#and this year the chain I work at decided to do POST-BLACK FRIDAY so it lasts until early December

[bigboobshaunt]

Feeling very "droopy cartoon eyeballs after a character got blown tf up" on this wednesday.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (4)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), voyeurism, exhibitionism, authority kink, praise kink, spanking, slight dom themes, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint, 

A/N: Slowing it down just a bit to move plot along. Freaking out on the reblogs and comments are encouraged and will be rewarded with cookies. Seriously though, I love hearing what you guys think and use some of it to make the next chapters better. I adore you all! Have at it!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:4 Apple Crumble

Steve Rogers had kindly offered for you and your team to stay at the Compound. For however long this mission would take, you were all going to start running straight at it early tomorrow. In terms of the mission, he was relieved to have your help. The sooner the serum was out of circulation the better and they truthfully did need your help. This underground world was more your scene now and you could better navigate it.

On a personal level, he was glad that you were sticking around even if it was on a contract. He would take whatever opportunity he can and make the best of it. That's how he's always been and he wasn't going to change that now.

He told himself that it was because he was the Captain that he was at your door this late after you all had agreed to part for the night. It was out of consideration that he carried with him some of his own clothes to offer you in case you needed something to change into. It was out of a need to clear the tension with you now that you were going to work as a team again that he was knocking on your door.

That was all.

You opened the door a moment later wrapped only in a short towel and with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. The smile that rose on your face was sly as you leaned on the doorframe with your arms crossed and your hip cocked to one side. He swallowed.

Maybe that wasn't all.

"What can I do for you, Cap?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was far too distracted by the little droplet that rolled down from your temple to the valley of your breasts. He shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus only on your eyes and not the inappropriate answers that sprung to mind at your question.

"I brought you a change of clothes in case you need it," he managed to say. "And I wanted to talk to you if you're not too tired."

You opened the door wider and took the clothes from him without a word, turning into the room toward the bathroom. You casually dropped your towel to the floor and Steve choked at the sight of your bare back, a small set of black panties the only stitch you wore. The breath in his chest released only when you disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open offering him enticing glimpses as you moved around.

Steve hurriedly closed the door behind him and as he made his way further in, he caught sight of an open go bag beside your bed with clothes clearly visible. There was also a shirt and sweats beside it, the design he knew belonged to Pietro. He felt a little embarrassed. Of course Pietro would have already beaten him to it and that your team always came prepared. Still there was a satisfaction that bloomed in him when you stepped out clad in his shirt, the hem barely reaching mid thigh and bare feet soundlessly crossing the carpeted floor until you came to sit with him on the sofa. You tucked your legs under you and rested your head on your hand over the back of the seat.

"Gotta say I like this look, Steve," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, self-consciously rubbing at his beard and pulling at the hair at the back of his collar. The light dusting of red on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"What? You don't like the all American apple pie look?"

You hummed and took a leisurely look at him from head to toe. Rugged and imposing as he appeared, the heat on his face intensified at your obvious appreciation and the way you swiped your tongue along your bottom lip. You were biting your lip when your eyes met his again, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how flustered he was getting and how much you were enjoying it. You've always found Steve handsome and he made apple pie look damn good, but this look on him was just so dangerously delicious.

You had a type.

"I'm more of an apple crumble kind of girl. I like the texture better," you winked. "And I don't mind a little beard burn."

"Will your team mind that I'm talking to you without one of them here?"

You raised an eyebrow and held his unsteady gaze, clearly understanding he meant more than just your professional relationship with the three men.

"You're curious."

"It's none of my business. That's not what I came to talk to you about," he stammered, unaccustomed to how forward you were.

"What did you want to talk about then?"

"I wanted to apologize properly and thank you for agreeing to help."

You groaned and threw your whole body back on the seat, causing Steve's shirt to ride up just shy of completely flashing him. You sat back up and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a long breath. It was only the fact that it was Steve that you were even entertaining this conversation.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Steve," you firmly dismissed.

"I do, Nem. We all do."

"Fine. List down what you're sorry about. Let's go through it one by one or we can draw lots to make it interesting."

"Nem," he said, low and clear with warning yet imploring you to listen. "Can you take this seriously for one second?"

The ever present smirk on your face dropped as you sighed heavily and ran a hand through your hair. For the first time since he's seen you, your expression softened a fraction and a shadow of the person he used to know passed across your features.

"Listen to me, Steve. I don't blame any of you. I'm not angry at any of you. I honestly have no room for more anger even if I wanted to be."

In the beginning you were. There were days while you were getting tortured that you hated them while you pleaded to the heavens for them to rescue you. It had taken a decade and three incredible men for that inferno of fury to turn into a manageable bitterness.

"Do you know how tiring it is to be so fucking angry all the time?" you chuckled darkly. "It took a while, but I learned to prioritize what I choose to be angry about."

"Salvacion," he muttered and you nodded, your eyes staring blankly forward.

"I've carried that name for a decade, Steve. That asshole has to die by my hands."

Steve saw now how selfish he was for forcing the conversation with the purpose of earning your forgiveness. It was for easing his own guilt that he was doing it when instead he should have just been thanking you for what you did and had to endure.

"Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I tried, Steve. When I was recovered enough I tried to go back. Did you know my sister had a girlfriend?"

He shook his head, throat suddenly closing at the sight of absolute misery in your eyes. He regretted starting this conversation even more.

"Jill. She was amazing to Lily and she was like a sister to me too," you smiled a little, not in your usual sarcastic way but with a hint of gentle fondness before your expression hardened once more.

"I saw her and I just couldn't bring myself to face her. I'm the reason the love of her life is dead. I couldn't, Steve"

It started off with the fear that they might have killed Jill too. You told yourself you had to know, but truthfully you were trying desperately to find a connection to Lily. You found her visiting the graveyard, laying flowers on two stones and spending the afternoon sitting on the ground tearfully talking to the dead. The shame burned through you and from then on you made it your sole purpose to destroy the man who took Lily from you both. Until then you had no right to face her. You had no right to return to the life you once knew.

Steve noticed that you weren't crying although the look in your eyes was swimming with grief. He expected you to cry, but somehow seeing you with dry eyes only made you look more in pain. You only clenched your fists, your shoulders tense and your jaw stiff. Steve decided he would tell the others instead of having you go through this conversation again.

He would do that for you.

You woke up surprisingly refreshed the following morning, strangely lighter than you have felt in the past decade. You didn't expect for that talk with Steve to have such an impact on you. You smiled ruefully, remembering your many counseling sessions with Curtis before and that maybe you were finally seeing his point.

FRIDAY had directed you to the larger conference room for today's briefing session with the rest of the team. You were wearing another one of Steve's shirts paired with your usual cargo pants, a fact that didn't go unnoticed judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smiles. Billy in particular was leaning in to whisper to Matt what was going on.

"You don't have to tell me. I can smell it," Matt chuckles, crinkles visible at the edges of his dark sunglasses. "His cologne is quite distinct."

You smacked Billy on the arm, but laughed with them as well before throwing a wink at Steve who proceeded to blush a deep red. As you took your seat, a cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of you accompanied by Pietro's ever bright smile. You smiled gratefully and took a sip, eyes slightly rounding in surprise at the taste.

"You remembered how I took my coffee."

"I've forgotten nothing about you, little star."

You haven't taken your coffee that way in so long. It's been just strong plain black coffee lately, the lack of sugar and cream where you lived with the boys being a factor. It had seemed pointless to eat something sweet when there was a permanent sour taste in your mouth from life. Now though you couldn't seem to help taking one sip after another, licking your lips before going in for more.

Right now this tasted right.

You didn't notice that Billy was smiling adoringly at you and sharing a look of approval with Frank as the briefing began, happy that someone aside from him was spoiling you. You certainly didn't know that Matt was smirking because he heard your heart literally skip a beat at the sweet gesture.

It took hours for the meeting to wrap up, but there was still more to do before you could actually take action. A number of the Avengers were sent out to gather more intel while the rest would stay to make further preparations.

"I only really need to talk to Frank a bit more," Steve said as he approached your group. "Why don't we have Pietro show you guys around the Compound? There are some improvements I think you'll find interesting."

Your tour guide for the afternoon appeared beside you, taking your hand in his and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He was just too cute that you couldn't help but let out a small smile. The effect he had on you remained it seems.

"A tour would be really helpful for me," Matt easily agreed.

"And I go wherever the pretty girl goes," Billy added, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"Great. Surrender your weapons and you should be good to go," Steve asked with a pointed look at both you and Billy who groaned in answer.

Billy was ready with a string of complaints and counter arguments when the clang of metal on the glass conference table stunned him into silence. He watched in complete disbelief as you removed every gun and blade attached to your body, efficiently dismantling them and lining them up on the table.

"Is she?" Matt murmured, leaning closer to Billy.

"Yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

By the time you stepped back, there was practically a decent sized armory on the table. How and where you managed to fit all of it on your person was a mystery to them.

"You missed one," Billy said, snapping out of his daze.

He stepped in front of you and casually slipped his arm up the front of your shirt and under your sports bra. His fingers grazed unnecessarily close to your now hardened nipples and he simply winked when you raised an eyebrow at him. Billy pulled out two small throwing daggers soon after and placed them alongside your other weapons.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about those," you chuckled.

"Do you always come armed to the teeth?" Bucky snapped, clearly bothered by the display.

"She doesn't want her team to carry extra ammo for her, Sergeant," Billy scowled at him, the obvious animosity surprising Bucky. When he turned back to Pietro, his expression was back to his usual playful one. "So how about that tour?"

Frank turned to Steve when you had exited the room. "You gotta teach me that trick, Cap."

"What trick?"

"First time in 10 years I've seen her take any kind of order without a knife fight first," he said, cracking a smile and shaking his head.

It turns out that coming back was doing some good for you and this made him more comfortable around the Avengers. He wasn't about to braid them friendship bracelets but he was less inclined to pop a cap in their ass. At least for the time being.

Walking around the Compound brought back some of that wonder you felt when you first stepped in, but it recalled everything you had lost. Sensing the sudden tension in you, Billy gripped you by the waist and pulled you into his side. He kissed your temple, a silent reminder of what you had gained.

Pietro had been an absolute sweetheart, specifically describing what was in the area for Matt's benefit and pointing out the changes to you. The training area was your last stop, the place you had spent the most time in during your short stint here. There were loud sounds coming from the area and walking in you saw fresh-faced recruits in paired off sparring sessions.

Your full attention was on Pietro as he happily listed off the new features and answered questions from Matt and Billy, the latter now in businessman mode as he thought of what he could implement for Anvil. You were having an unusually pleasant time until a familiar shrill voice demanded your attention.

"Well look what the street cat dragged in. Y/N?"

You knew that voice. A decade with torture and trauma included apparently couldn't change how much her voice grated at you. The cold smirk made a reappearance on your face as you slowly turned to face her, the three men with you were instantly alarmed at the change in your demeanor.

"Kim," you nodded.

"Thought you were dead."

"Thanks. Can't say I thought about you at all though."

"I see you're still pathetically clinging to Pietro."

"What can I say? He's really cute," you said with a wink at Pietro who seemed to enjoy the compliment.

She sneered at you, her irritation rising when you weren't backing down like you used to do. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about you, but you seemed rougher around the edges and far too cocky for her liking. Luckily, she still remembered a sure-fire way to take you down a few pegs.

"I'm teaching a class on hand to hand combat. How about we show them a demonstration on what a real fight looks like?"

You giggled as your smile grew, a disturbing sight that made even Kim doubt herself for a moment. You nodded your head in easy acceptance and she looked like she was pleased at herself for getting this opportunity. Before you could step forward though, you found Matt's walking stick blocking your path.

"What? It's not assault if it's provoked," you grinned at the frown on his face.

He hated it when you found loopholes, but he relented with a heavy sigh. He was too used to this. He leaned toward Pietro and told him that he should inform the Captain.

"Get some snacks too, roadrunner," Billy chuckled, delightedly watching you strip off your shirt and walking confidently towards Kim on the sparring mats.

Pietro had returned a moment later after completing his task, actually handing Billy a bag of fresh popcorn. The smile on his face froze when he caught sight of your bare skin. So far all he had seen as evidence of your torture was what was visible on your neck and face. He had stupidly brushed that fact aside, too excited to have found you again. Now the vicious marring on your beautiful skin was a cruel reminder of their failure as your team. They had failed you.

He had failed you.

Back in the conference room, the same feelings were shared by two super soldiers. They had pulled up surveillance on the training area after Pietro's message, just in time to see you take off that shirt.

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs at the horrific sight. He was alive and you had paid a heavy price for saving him. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the shame burning through him. He didn't want to imagine the amount of pain you had to endure to sustain those injuries.

"Don't you people dare look at her with pity," Frank warned. "Those scars are a testament to her strength. She's damn beautiful."

Steve agreed. He'd caught a glimpse of your scars last night and jarring as they were, your complete lack of self consciousness to them just made you more alluring. Looking back at the screen though he was concerned that you could hurt yourself. Kim was a top agent now, high enough in the ranks to be training recruits and leading missions. She had proven herself deadly in combat, but the way you were grinning was chilling in itself.

"One question before we start," you said.

"What?" Kim scoffed, flipping her braided hair over her shoulder.

"When's your next mission?"

"2 weeks. Why?" she answered, perfect brow raised in confusion.

"Just calculating your recovery time," you shrugged. "I'm nice that way."

Kim predictably charged at you then, growling and cursing at you under her breath. You smirked, standard SHIELD movements were easy to read for you. You stayed completely still and relaxed in your stance as she lunged at you with her fist. You timed your movement precisely, sidestepping at the absolute last moment. One hand grabbed at the back of her head, forcing it down to ram against your oncoming fist with a sickening crack.

Broken nose.

Kim shrieked in pain as the blood gushed from her nose and she tried to pull away from you. You didn't let her. You pulled her down by the shoulder to bend her over before driving your knee up her midsection. She wheezed at the impact, the mat below her smattered with her blood.

Bruised ribs. Maybe slightly broken.

You unceremoniously threw her aside, letting her fall groaning on her side. You clicked your tongue, watching her struggle and turning to the class she was supposed to be teaching.

"Lesson 1, kids," you waved your hands in Kim's general direction. "Don't end up like that."

Broken ego.

You turned to go back to your boys when the glint of metal caught your eye. You tilted your head just in time for the dagger to zip past your eye line, only thinly scratching at your cheek. Your hands reacted on instinct, reaching for the small hidden pocket along the waistband of you pants. You flicked the thin blade with deft fingers, embedding on the mat and landing it purposely close to Kim's eyes that it cut through her fake lashes.

"Nem!" Steve's unmistakable voice boomed through the speakers. You had forgotten that they had FRIDAY everywhere. "We said no weapons."

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheekily at the cameras. "It's just a nail file. I don't like keeping blood under my nails."

"You call that training?" Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and turning to Frank.

"I call that anger management," Frank said, amused at how unpredictable to handle they already found you when they've barely scratched the surface. He noticed how Bucky looked furious, his metal hand clutching a little too hard onto the table. "Don't like what you see, Sarge?"

Bucky didn't answer. He didn't tell them that he didn't like what he saw because he knew he was a major contributor in what caused it. If only he had been kinder, gentler, more honest. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

He walked down the hallways much later gripping a first aid kit in his metal hand and nervously running the other through his cropped hair. The cut on your face was barely anything, but he needed an excuse to talk to you. He was afraid you would turn him away, but he was terrified that you wouldn't. He didn't know what to say to you. He didn't know how to begin to apologize for everything he's done. His palm grew sweaty and beads were beginning to form on his brow.

He was only a few steps away from your bedroom door and he was sorely tempted to turn back around when he noticed that it was cracked open and he could hear voices from inside. He should have followed his instinct to keep his distance but a high whine that definitely came from you pushed him to peak through the small opening.

What he saw made his already thumping heartbeat grow quicker. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't this.

You. Stark naked. Grinding your mound on someone's face.

You looked absolutely glorious as you wound your hips in your chase for release; head thrown, back arched, and lips in a dreamy smile. The view he had of you, facing him and deep into your pleasure, was enough to cause his pants to tighten. He couldn't see which one of your teammates was beneath you, the bedframe blocking his view. Whoever they were, Bucky was jealous. He wanted to taste you too.

He felt that stirring of longing again now as he watched you in the throes of passion with another man. He felt it the moment you stepped back into their lives. He felt it during the 10 years they thought you were dead. And he felt it when you were still in training as a recruit every time you smiled at Pietro and Steve.

You picked up your pace and he could see muscular arms reach up to grip your waist and pull you down harder. You were panting curses, your breathing turning erratic and Bucky could see your thighs begin to shake. The sight of you coming undone has to be the most entrancing thing he's ever seen.

Movement from you and your partner pulled him from the hypnosis caused by your erotic display. His face heated up, deeply embarrassed at having watched you for so long and finding enjoyment in basically violating your privacy. He was about to leave when the man whose face you had been riding, came up to kneel behind you.

He pulled your hips back against his own, sliding his hard length easily into your dripping cunt causing you to moan so deliciously that Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. You reached your hand up to grip the back of his head, letting him bury his own in your neck as he set a languid pace with his thrusts.

Your head rolled to the side and your eyes opened, locking directly with Bucky's. You smirked and reached down to circle your swollen bud, pressing your back further against the hard body rutting behind you and purposely putting on a show. You winked at him.

He bolted out of there.

"That wasn't very nice, honey," the low voice was thick with lust in your ear. His breathing was growing labored too, finding your heat wrapping around him overwhelming.

"I don't see you stopping, Captain."

"How can I when you're gripping me so tight?" He snapped his hips earning a sharp moan from you. "Did you like that? Torturing my best pal with me balls deep inside you?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. Apple pie Steve wouldn't have whispered such sinful things to you, but this Steve could make you cum with just filthy words alone.

"Yeah, you did. Look at you clenching and soaking my cock from having Bucky watch you. You like being bad to him, honey?"

A sudden smack to your ass had you snapping your eyes open. He chuckled into your neck, biting down hard on the juncture as he felt you gripping him even tighter.

"Answer," he growled, landing a harsher smack to your bottom.

"Yes! Yes, Captain, I did."

"Good. Will you be good for me now, honey? You caused a bit of trouble today." His thrusting was still slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein with each stroke as he drove you into a stupor. "Will you be a good girl for your Captain now?"

"Yes, Captain."

He smirked against your skin, pleased at your compliance. He was reveling in the power he had over you. Frank had said that you never took orders without a fight, but here you were being so good for him. Pliable. Yielding. He was enjoying it.

He gathered your hair in one hand and pulled, your back arching beautifully and emphasizing where his cock was buried deep inside you. With each thrust his cock came out glistening with your slick. The image made him lose control, abruptly escalating his pace to rail feverishly into you.

He had you gasping and clutching at the sheets instantly, begging for him to go harder and push you over the edge. He bent over you and reached around to rub furiously at your throbbing clit.

"Cum like a good girl, honey. Cum around my cock," he commanded. "I wanna feel you fucking drown me."

You came, lights dancing in your eyes and your head empty of all thoughts aside from the pleasure that racked your body. He followed soon after with a loud grunt, the sensation of you fluttering around him too much to resist.

He fell on top of you, spent and satisfied. Your sweat and heavy breaths mingling together as you both tried to return back to the world. You liked the heavy feel of him on top of you, strangely finding comfort in the weight.

He dragged you with him when he rolled off you, spooning you and planting kisses on the back of your shoulders that had your skin tingling from his beard.

"When are you going to put him out of his misery?"

"When it stops being fun?" you chuckled.

Steve wasn't going to push the issue. He knew that it was up to you whether you forgave Bucky or not and when that would be. It would be on your own terms how things moved. Just like what happened between you two. He wasn't expecting it, but the heated argument about the injuries you inflicted on one of his best agents had somehow escalated into him spanking you and you growing wet from it.

Not that either of you were complaining.

You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a taunting smirk. "You sure your old heart can take being in a polyamorous relationship?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips before going back in for a much deeper kiss that had you swooning. When he pulled back, he was looking at you lovingly.

"I'm known for waiting too long about things like this. I lost my shot at you 10 years ago. I'm not missing out on you again."

His words were firm and genuine. He honestly thought that he would mind having to share you with several other men. He thought that he would feel jealous and possessive. Instead, he felt reassured. He knew that wherever and whenever he lacked, someone else would pick it up and he would be the same. There was a sense of relief knowing that you would always be taken cared of by people who felt the same for you as he did.

"Well then you have some making up to do for waiting so long," you said nibbling at his lower lip.

He groaned and grabbed your thigh, hitching your leg up on his hip. Your thighs and core were still sticky and slippery from both your releases. His tongue dove into your mouth and he could feel you moan against his lips as he ran the tip of his cock against your still sensitive core. Your nails dug into his back as he sunk in, fitting perfectly inside you.

"You're running with a super soldier now, honey," he said, eyes burning with want. "I can do this all day."

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A/N: Some asked about Jill and Kim so here you go, lovelies. Come freak out with me in the comments and reblogs. Thank you all for the support! More coming soon. 

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📕BTS Fic Reads - 2020 August

Okay so I’m such a hoe for fics that I probably have about a hundred on queue but I can’t help appreciate all the works that these awesome writers put here on Tumblr and AO3. 

Here’s my attempt to organize my readings - though if my mood fluctuates, I’d just end up going through my reblogged fics for reading or sorting through my watchlist of ongoing/incomplete fics/series

✅ -  done reading   | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]🥕

Dangerous Pairing @nightowls388 - KNJ |  supernatural  au, fantasy au, forbidden romance

[2/?] “Whether you’re a vampire or werewolf, love is still love. Betrayal is still betrayal.”    

Queen Cobra @fantasybangtan - KTH | mafia au, undercover au, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, thriller, s, f,a

[8/?]  when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

Arranged by obiwrites (AO3) - JHS | arranged marriage, unrequited love, angst, pining, jhs in love with someone else

[19/?] If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her.

Image, Bad Boy @kittentaegu​ - JJK | badboy, fwb, angst, smut, more angstttt (I binge-read on this for the angst), adorable JJK when he’s not an fboi

[14/?] I chose to read this on AO3. Incomplete, but Ch 14 had such a satisfying ending -  When by chance you walk in on the school’s infamous bad boy, not once, but two different times in one day; your life quickly spirals out of control.

I’ll Sue You, Min Yoongi by hosexi (AO3) - MYG |  neighbors, enemies to lovers, angst, smut, lawyer!reader

[9/10] Yoongi is the neighbor from hell

Whiskey Neat and Whisking Trips by lacielre (AO3) - KTH | comedy, fake dating au, baker!reader, veterinarian!taehyung, funny 😂🤣, ex!Jin

[2/4]  This is a story about the night you poured your heart out to your ex outside his apartment building as a stranger yelled at you to “shut the fuck up,” and that stranger, who was just as wounded as you, was Taehyung, and he needed your help.

His Side, Her Side @scriptaed - JJK | he said, she said, f, a

[11/?] a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be  - one last chapter before series ends 😥

Black Swan @softlyjiminie - PJM | professional dancer, enemies to lovers, fake dating, figure skating, s, f, a

[2/?] a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

The Key to my Drawer @jjungkookislife - KTH | bestfriends to lovers, s, a

[10/?]  A key, a drawer, and a secret Taehyung planned to take to the grave

The Nanny @jjungkookislife - KSJ| lawyer!seokjin, nanny!reader, single dad au

[2/?] Jin hires a nanny for his son, but when he hires you, he gets that and so much more

Acatalepsy @1kook - JJK |   survival au, apocalypse au, s, f

[2/?] Jungkook didn’t understand, and the longer he ponders it, he realizes maybe he never will. Some things are just better left unknown, he supposes. But that didn’t mean one had to face them alone. 

Aphrodite in War @jungblue - JJK | angst, exes au, fake dating au, roommates, sorority/frat wars, college au *this is really good 😍😍*

[2/?] Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle… Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

Palate Cleanser @btsmakesmehappy - KTH | agent au, fwb, strangers to lovers, s, f, a

[5/?] Part of The Company series -  Taehyung needs something to take his mind off his broken heart. His best friend, Jimin, suggests that he should meet another woman and the first woman he met was you. Would you help him even though you have your own problem, that you hate men?

Bad Guy @taehoneys - JJK | college au, fratboy au, badboy, good girl(?), 

[3/?] chose to read this on AO3 A certain video circulates the school after your big mistake and you never do mistakes, but you did this time…a big one: J e o n J u n g k o o k

Good Girl Series:  Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl  @bonny-kookoo - JJK |  good girl au, bad boy au, roommates, established relationship, s, f, a

[5/?]  Jeon Jungkook was known to have a specific type when it came to his partners; tall, gorgeous, dominant and older. When a new girl answers to his ad online searching for a roommate, he didn’t quite expect such an innocent being to turn up at his doorstep And what he definitely didn’t expect was his growing interest in her and the feeling of having her under him, all submissive and ready to be ruined. 

Agent of Love @ppersonna - JJK |  social media au, agent au, s, f, a

[1/?] as the FBI agent assigned to your phone, Jungkook keeps a diligent watch. he takes a special interest when you try your hand in online dating AND online sexting. desperate to keep you from bombing yet another potential date, Jungkook breaks his vow of silence to assist you in your plight to get laid.

Irregular Heartbeat @ppersonnakookies - MYG | social media au, surgeon!yoongi, intern!reader, 

[5/?] hot girl meets hot guy at a bar, lets him buy her a drink, then hooks up with him in the bathroom without even asking for his name. your typical friday night cliché. except for the fact that you’re a virgin, and the guy you drunkenly lose your v-card to is your superior at your new job.

Somewhere Only We Know @userseok - JJK | hybrid au, pining, angst, fantasy, smut

Prequel SOWK 1 SOWK 2 [being revised by author] Epilogue [to be posted]

you’ve been chasing after jungkook for years. after a harsh verbal altercation between both of you, you decide to leave him alone and pursue a relationship with someone who seems genuinely interested in you, thinking he would never return your feelings.

Elysee @ironicarmy - KSJ |  angst, drama, CEO!Seokjin, personal assistant

[1/?] Being the CEO of Korea’s largest fashion house is no easy feat. But to be the person behind the man, that being his assistant, is an even harder spot to maintain. In a company filled with affairs, bribery, deceit, lies and blackmail, you must struggle to survive and, eventually, climb your way to the top of the food chain. Seokjin, your boss, trusts you more than anyone, but when exactly does the line between friendly camaraderie blur with carnal desire? 

Beautiful Deception @jiminwreckedme​ - MYG? | mystery, thriller, ex!yoongi, angst, smut

[3/5] When your ex-boyfriend’s wife goes missing, you are the only one who can help him find her. But in a world where everyone is a friend and everyone is a culprit,  how will you find out what happened to the woman he loves?  Without falling for him all over again?

🥕[Completed AUs/Series/Drabbles -  to read]🥕

One Thing Right @hobios - JJK | fake marriage au, childhood friends, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, smut

01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08  09  ✅ (done, read it twice - this is just perfect ⭐ holy grail status)

Carousel @yoonia - MYG | mafia au, arranged marriage, heirs, CEO!Yoongi, suspense

Index: 16 Chapters & Epilogue | Drabbles and short stories |  Playlist |  Fan Edits

*a re-read this holy grail of a fic 🥰

Risk It @kookiesjoonies - JJK | social media au, exes to lovers, angst, smut ✅

Driving Me Wild @joonkookiemonster - JJK | demon prince!JJK, roommate au, comedy, fluff   ✅ (done reading, this is really cuuute 🥰)

Redefining Destiny @threeletterislife - JJK |  soulmates, enemies to lovers, mafia, fluff, crack, angst

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 (*have to read Yoongi’s story first*)

Rattled @gukslut - JJK | single dad au, angst, pining, enemies to lovers, neighbors, smut 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three  Chapter Four   Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight Epilogue ✅(done)

*was reading this when it was ongoing, but stopped at Ch 5 (angst was too much for my heart 😢) - thrilled to binge-read this from the start 😍

Guarded @xjoonchildx - JHS | mafia au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, tsundere, smut

01 02 03 04 05 06 Epilogue  ✅

Never Falling @yoonia - PJM |  Enemies to Lovers!au, Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, Assistant!reader, Smut, Angst, slow burn ✅(done)

Spellbound @minflix - PJM |  witches au (sort of based on the secret circle),  smut, comedy, fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers

Lie @yoon-kooks - PJM | angst, fluff, based on movie “Flipped”

0 // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // FINAL

On the Sidewalk of Champ Elysees @taeramisu = KTH | journalist!KTH, exes to lovers, smut, angst, paris, slow burn

Little Monsters @yoon-bug - MYG | established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, s, f  ✅

Take One @taetaewonderland - MYG | pornstar!yoongi, fanfictionwriter, strangers to lovers, s, f ✅

The Habits of a Broken Heart @softykooky - JJK |  soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers  ✅(done)

Into the Wilderness @gukyi - PJM | camp counselor au, unrequited love, friends to lovers

Oops @honeyj00ns - JJK | love at first hear, comedy, fluff, smut, “ You don’t know who the wonderful voice singing in the shower is, but you need to know”  ✅

A Song Request @n8dlesoupguk - JJK | drabble, romance,  where you always listen to the same radio station and he lives in the apartment complex opposite of yours ✅

Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates @ot7always - JJK | roommates, quarantined life, college, smut, fluff ✅

Your Favorite Cardigan in Summer Nights @prodkkyu - JJK | one shot, angst, high school sweethearts, exes au, summer fling  ✅

Crimson Park @heartbeatan - JJK |  mafia, boss!reader, mystery, angst

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 (Final) ✅

Pranks @mysecretatticsstuff - JJK | enemies to lovers, prank wars, angst, smut, fluff ✅

Too Long, Didn’t Read @fortunexkookie - KTH | college, writers, enemies to lovers, fluff ✅ (done reading, love love this)

You’ve Got Mail @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong - JJK |  Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, angst, ex-lovers, enemies to lovers  ✅ (done reading, love this)

Love at First Oink @glodenclosetau- KTH | social media au, neighbors, friends to lovers, piggies 🐽, romance, fluff, comedy ✅ (done - the cutest smau ever)

Sugar @seokjxnnie​ - MYG | ceo!yoongi, escort!reader, personal assistant, smut ✅

Amor Vincit Omnia @sunshyngal - MYG | Mafia au, arranged marriage, angst, violence, drama

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20  ✅

My Euphoria @beyochu​ - JJK | fake dating au, fluff, ceo!jungkook, florist!reader, romance  ✅ (done, really adorable)

All Aboard @ve1vetyoongi​ - KNJ | smut, officeworker!namjoon, enemies to lovers  ✅

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.8]

Pairings:  Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death.

A/N: **TW: A certain death is finally explained in this chapter. It is the second half of the chapter. It’s not in crazy detail but there is some important plot stuff mixed in.  I decided to post despite someone stealing my work. 😤 Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​ for looking this chapter over for me. Enjoy the sad I guess. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Stepping away from music for those ten months turned out to be the best thing you could have done for yourself and your career. Without the small reprieve, you doubted you would have found your way back to teaching, and you loved teaching. Not that it had been intended as a break at the time you walked away. You had every intention of never looking at another sheet of music again, but then Bucky came home and things became more complicated and somehow easier. You doubted that he knew what he was doing, and why should he? It wasn’t as if he had planned on coming home to pick up all your broken pieces so he could help put you back together. He did -- whether he realized it or not -- help you get some of your old life back. The bit that you could take with you into this new one. You even called a few of your former students and asked their parents if they were interested in picking up their lessons. Most said they would love to pick up where you left off, and a few said they found someone new in your absence. You couldn’t blame them. The world had continued while you chose to stand still.

Bucky must have noticed a difference because he told you he liked how pretty you looked when you were smiling. 

Lessons started with the school year, and fall was here before you could blink. You were surprised to find you weren’t dreading the holidays as much as you thought. It would be the first holiday season since you got the call and you had expected it to feel like the rest -- hollow and grim. Along with Easter and Memorial Day, you had skipped celebrating Steve’s birthday. There was a small cake you shared with Bucky, three bites in, and you couldn’t force any more falsities down. You spent the rest of the night in your room. It was one of the rare nights you hadn’t slept next to Bucky since he had been home. You needed the night to yourself, and he understood that. By morning, your wedding ring had found its way from your ring finger to a chain that Steve had given you years ago. It felt strange at first. From the moment Steve slipped it on your finger, it rarely left your skin, and when you did, it always felt like there was a piece of you missing. That feeling didn’t show up this time, but you imagined there weren’t many more pieces of you that could go missing. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, so you kept it tucked inside your shirt. Of course, Bucky noticed the absence right away. He never questioned it. 

It was a step forward (or maybe backward you weren’t sure some days). They were small, slow steps taken, but at least you were moving.  

You’re not sure when it happened, but one morning you woke up and everything didn’t hurt as bad, you guessed it started right around the time Bucky came home. While moving forward was necessary (as everyone continued to remind you), there were days when it felt like a betrayal. You are moving on, and Steve can’t come with you. A little guilt blackens your heart every time you smile on those days; so you falter and take those arduous steps back. It lessens with every laugh and smile Bucky draws out of you, but it’s there under it all, and there’s the fear too. You’re afraid if you move on and keep up with the rest of the world you will forget. You will forget everything you and Steve had, and it will be as if you were never anything at all. Bucky shook his head when you confessed that to him late one night with your forehead pressed firmly against his shoulder, fighting your sleep and the nightmares you were sure would follow. 

“You’re holding on to the past, Y/n. You gotta let it go. I’m not sayin’ you have to stop lovin’ him, but you gotta let go of the part of Steve that’s keeping you from moving on and being happy. Or it’s going to continue to tear at you until there’s nothing left.” 

“And if I forget him?” 

“You won’t, Trouble. You can’t forget a love like that. Trust me, I know.”

Bucky didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t dare ask. He’s never mentioned anything about falling in love in all the years you’ve known him. You’ve never seen him hold onto a woman for longer than a month and the idea of Bucky being in love, holding on to that love all these years without ever getting to know it turns your stomach inside out and shades your heart a bitter green. You’d rather not dwell on those feelings long enough to understand them. 

Neither of you spoke about it again, and you were thankful. You didn’t think you could handle discussing Bucky’s long lost love when you could barely pick out an outfit. You’ve been staring at your clothes for an hour now, and everything either looked awful or felt wrong. Maybe you needed to buy new clothes and start from scratch. Every piece you owned had a memory stitched into the fabric, and you didn’t need to be reminded of things you would never have again. Bucky pulled a grey flannel out of his closet, and you reached across the bed, yanking it right out of his hand to slip over your head. That would have to work for today. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to the closet to grab a blue Henley for himself. 

You always did like the way he looked blue. 

“I can go see Sam so you can have some time alone with Tasha and Wanda.” 

You didn’t say anything. Just gave a simple nod of the head, refusing to look up from the pile of clothes on the bed that now needed to be put away. You could leave it. The girls would be here any minute, and with Bucky gone, you could deal with it then. Bucky reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist and gave a gentle tug, forcing your gaze to follow the motion up to meet his eyes. He ran his thumb over the soft thumping in your wrist and stared at you for a while as if he was working something out. 

“Or,” Bucky suggested gently. “I can stay right here and work on my bike.” 

Your lips curled up in a small smile despite your brain’s wish to keep them in a permanent frown. 

“Okay,” You agreed with an easy smile. You slipped your wrist out of Bucky’s loose hold and made your way towards the door, stopping before you crossed the threshold and looked back at him with a deep frown replacing the pretty smile you were wearing only a second ago. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, y’ know?” 

Bucky’s laughter was followed by an exasperated groan. Of course, that was why you were upset. 

“Yeah, I know. You’re just fine on your own.” 

There was no fighting the grin Bucky’s words caused. “Yes, I am. But… you can hang around if you want to.” 

“I’ve meant to clean up my girl anyway. I’ll hang around today, Trouble.” 

Bucky assurance made your heart rest a little easier and maybe his too because he looked relieved when you nodded. The doorbell broke your silence and forced you to leave his side; you barely made it to the top of the stairs when you heard Bucky mutter, “Pain in my ass.” There was a fondness in his voice that made your heart leap. 

Even though you were back to teaching you made sure not to overwhelm yourself; Tuesdays and Thursdays you worked late into the evening. It was nice to have something to look forward to, and Bucky always had something to eat ready when your last student left around 8:30. That was nice too. 

Natasha had called earlier in the week wanting to come over Thursday night, and you had to explain that you went back to work. There was silence on the other end of the line, and silence was never good with Natasha. She was probably mad you didn’t tell her and that you were keeping things that important hidden, but it wasn’t something you wanted to advertise. Besides, Friday was as good a day as any to have the girls over. No one had to work the next day and took some of the pressure off. Everything felt normal when Natasha and Wanda arrived; you shared a hug or two. Okay, three. Wanda liked to hug, and she showed you the muffins she baked while Natasha held up a bottle of something that looked as if it could melt the glass it came in. You didn’t know what you expected. You hadn’t thought you would feel so excited to see them. Not because you didn’t love them, but having excitement around anyone but Bucky has been rare these last few months.  

Sometimes the unexpected was good. 

You chose to sit on the window bench that happened to overlook the side yard where Bucky had his black and chrome bike parked and was sitting on an old milk crate hard at work. That didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. Not that anything ever does. 

“So are you two living together now?” 

You slowly draw your gaze up from the wine glass in your hand to look at Natasha and Wanda, who was skillfully avoiding your eyes as she blew on her tea for far longer than necessary.  

“Yes. Is that a problem? It’s not like we talked about it or anything. It just sort of happened.” 

Natasha shrugged in answer to your question and waited for you to go on. She wanted more of an explanation, so you rolled your eyes and explained why Bucky was staying with you. 

“He didn’t have anywhere to go when he came home.” 

Natasha smirked at the suggestion that Bucky would have been homeless if he hadn’t come to live with you, and you knew right away what you said had been a mistake. “Besides his mom’s, right? She lives twenty minutes from here. What about Sam’s? Or at my place with Clint and I? And I’m a hundred percent certain Sarah Rogers would have taken him in if everyone else in his life let him down for some unknown reason.”  

You turned to look back out the window right as Bucky looked up, catching his eye, and you felt the panic in your chest lessen. Bucky gave you that pretty smile and scrunched his nose at you before going back to work. You fought to keep your smile small and lost the battle before it even got started. Wanda’s voice pulled you back into the living room; it was gentle as if she was trying to offset Natasha. 

“I think what Nat was trying to ask is if you are planning on staying here together, or is he going to get his own place eventually?” 

“We haven’t talked about it. I suppose he will at some point, though...” 

You frowned at the thought. Why did that bother you so much? 

“He doesn’t have to do anything, you know?” Wanda added at the sight of your upset. “He might want to stay here.” 

“Maybe, but he has to move on eventually,” you added, dread filling your voice from the mere thought of Bucky leaving you. “He can’t stay here just to keep me from falling apart for the rest of this life.” 

They were right. Bucky will eventually want to get back to his life. He can’t babysit you forever.  There was going to come a time when he will want to date, fall in love, and get married. Maybe even have kids. Do all the things that you were supposed to do with Steve. The thought of Bucky leaving you to have that life with someone else made you sick, and you know it’s selfish. It’s unfair to expect him to stay there with you because you don’t want to lose him to someone else. 

“How are you doing?” Natasha sounded a little softer this time, sensing your unease. “Are you sleeping?”  

“Yeah, I started sleeping in Bucky’s room with him. It seemed to help.” 

They stayed quiet but shared a look. You weren’t fond of whatever that was.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Wanda rushed out far too quickly, but Natasha was quick to cut in, and by her tone, you could tell she’s been feeling this way for a while. “I’m just wondering how long you are going to keep punishing yourself?” 

Natasha stared at you and Wanda swore under her breath. They talked about this before coming over. That was clear by the glare Wanda was settling Natasha with. You briefly wondered how often your friends discuss you like that. More often than you approved of, you were sure. 

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m allowed to be sad. My husband died--”

“You’re right. You are allowed to be sad. Just like you’re allowed to find new things that make you happy and start putting your life back together.” 

“I’m fine, Nat. I don’t need anything new. I have our house and my music--” 

“And, Bucky?”

While she was right, you did have Bucky, in a sense. Bucky wasn’t new. You had a feeling what she was suggesting would be very new and not a notion you wanted to entertain.

“Natasha--” 

“It’s okay to be happy again, Y/n. It’s okay to let your heart get put back together and heal. It doesn’t cheapen what you had with Steve. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, and it doesn’t mean you are betraying him. You aren’t doing anything wrong by letting yourself find happiness again. Even if that happiness is found with Bucky.” 

You had a feeling what Natasha was hinting at, but hearing it outright like that made you a little queasy. Did people, your friends, talk about you and Bucky like this? Is that what everyone was worried about, who would get you next?  

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid Y/n. You’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” 

“He’s been my best friend since I was thirteen. It’s not-- It’s never been--” You took a deep breath and told them both, firmly. “He’s my best friend.”  

Wanda pinched Natasha’s thigh and grabbed your hands from where she sat on the floor between you and Natasha. “All Nat is trying to say is if you wanted to find happiness again... with Bucky or anyone for that matter, it’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong by moving on.” 

“It’s been nearly a year since you lost Steve. It’s time to start picking up the pieces, Y/n. With Bucky or without. You can’t stay stuck in this in-between, and you can’t go back.”

You turned your gaze back out the window to catch Bucky staring at you. He quickly looked back at his bike and fiddled with the wrench in his hand. It reminded you of all those days he would hide you in Shop class so you could skip Geometry with Mr. Coulson. The memory makes you grin. The girls might be half right. Maybe you couldn’t go back, but that didn’t mean you wanted to let it go completely.

----

Three hours after Natasha and Wanda left, you found yourself wandering around the house with what you thought was purposeless. It started in the kitchen, and you slowly made your way through your home, somehow ending up in the doorway to Bucky’s room. Your heart must have told your feet where to go and left your brain in the dark. His hair was still wet from a fairly recent shower. The ends were darker than the rest and shiny from being wet. It wasn’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, but it was long enough that he could slick it back. His beard had become relatively thick due to his laziness these last few months. To be fair, most of his attention has been on you. When he mentioned trimming it a few weeks ago, you wrinkled your nose at the thought, and at the time, he had laughed. 

He never did trim it after that. 

Bucky glanced up at you, hovering at the threshold to his room, and he smiled, crooking his finger for you to come in. You pushed off the doorframe and made your way over to where he was resting on the end of the bed, wet towel lying on the bed next to him. You wanted to tell him it was getting your side of the bed all wet, but you thought better of it. 

It’s not your bed, after all. You have your own you should probably start to sleep in and let Bucky get back to living his own life. 

“Have a good time?” Bucky asked. There was a softness in his voice he saved for you and you alone. 

You shrugged.

“Tasha called me stupid on the way out. Got any idea what that is about? Should I be scared?” 

You grinned and brushed a fallen strand of hair back to lay with the rest. “I don’t know, but being scared is always a safe bet when Nat is involved. How’s the bike? It looked like you got a lot done.” 

“She’s good. Just cleaned her up a bit and changed the oil. You know, I like fiddling with her a bit, and she’s been sitting at my mom’s collecting dust.” 

You cupped his cheek and gently rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. He nuzzled your palm right away, eyes falling closed, and he seemed to relax a fraction. There was tension in his shoulders you hadn’t noticed before, a darkness that has never lingered in his eyes this long, and his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore. He’s spent all this time taking care of you, and you never once noticed how badly he was struggling. 

He was lost just like you. 

“Hey.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice and quickly pulled away from your touch as if he remembered he shouldn’t be doing that. You slowly drew your hand back, letting them drop to your side and choosing to sit next to him instead. 

“Wanna talk?” 

“‘Bout what?”

He looked dejected, troubled. A little scared, too. 

“What’s been weighing on your heart.” Bucky dropped his gaze, his tell for waiting to drop the subject, but you pushed a little more. “I didn’t see it before. I was too wrapped up in my shit, but I can see it now. The guilt and the hurt.”

If he honestly couldn’t talk, or didn’t want to, you would drop it. 

“Y/n, you don’t want to hear about that.” 

So it was about Steve’s death then. You had a feeling. 

“If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I need to hear it, Bucky, and I think you need to talk about it as well.” 

It took a long time before Bucky made any movements at all. He shifted further away from you, tossing the towel onto the desk chair and turned to face you. You mirrored his position tucking one leg under you on the bed and letting the other hang off the edge. He was still quiet, gathering his thoughts and a little courage, too. You nudged his barefoot with yours and he gave you a small smile.

“Steve was… He was walking in front of me. Like he always does-- like he did, and Sam was on our left.” Bucky licked his lips, tossing words around his head to find the right ones. This was harder than he thought it would be. 

“I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been. That’s my damn job. I was too busy staring at the damn…” Bucky stopped short, and the look of guilt he gave you said he feared you already knew his crimes and found him deserving of judgment. 

“At what, Bucky?” 

Bucky dropped his eyes and shook his head. 

“You’ll hate me.” 

“Bucky… I could never hate you. Nothing you could do would make me hate you.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, squeezed them shut really. He didn’t want to see your face when he said what he had to say next. “I was staring at your scarf. It was sticking out of his collar, poking up right out of the back of his BDU’s and all I could think about was you, and how I could never have-- I was distracted.”

He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes with the palm of his hand. You had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him close. Bucky needed to get this off his chest and you needed to hear it. 

“Next thing I knew, there was a shot fired and then about ten after that. Maybe more. I don’t know. Steve was down, and at first, I thought he dropped to take cover, but my damn ears were ringing, and shots were flying everywhere. I tried to yell out, but I couldn’t hear my voice over the noise. Sam was trying to drag me away, but I couldn’t leave him lying there…” 

Bucky’s words became stuttered and choked. You could follow along, but you had to piece together the holes Bucky couldn’t fill. He explained how Steve had taken the bullet for him, how he had been distracted and didn’t see it in time. Bucky told you that he had pulled Steve undercover, and Steve had begged for Bucky to take care of you for him. Bucky left out the reason Behind Steve’s choices that day. You didn’t need to know that when Bucky asked why he did that, Steve told him with that stupid lopsided smile, “You’re my best friend, Buck and Y/n... S-she can go on without me. She can’t live without you though.” 

You wiped your tears away with shaking fingers. Bucky blamed himself for Steve’s choices and you couldn’t let him go on thinking he was at fault for something he had no control over. Scarf or not. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Yn...” 

“No, Bucky. It wasn’t your fault. If it had been the other way around, you would have jumped in front of him. We both know you would have.” 

“But if I was--” 

“It’s not. Your fault, Bucky.”  

You crawled into his lap and pulled his head to your chest. Bucky tightened his arms around your waist, clutching at the thick fabric of his shirt still clinging to your skin. “I don’t blame you, and I know Steve wouldn’t,” You cooed softly in his ear. ”He would do it a hundred times over, and I know you would do the same for h-him.” 

Bucky tucked his nose into your neck and took a shaky inhale. The two of you sat like that as the glow of the room slowly faded from orange to dark blue. Bucky’s quiet sobs had settled into barely-there sniffs along with your own. There was a new heaviness resting on your chest, but despite the pain that came with knowing the truth, it gave you a tiny bit of closure. He never said if he believed you or accepted your forgiveness. You prayed he did. You hoped now he would be able to forgive himself, too.

“Bucky?” 

There a beat of silence. Bucky rubbed his beard against your neck making you shiver. You could feel a faint smile on your skin when he finally spoke. 

“Yeah?” 

Bucky slowly lifted his head, so the two of you were sitting nose to nose now, you were so close that when you whispered he could feel your breath against his lips, “I’m glad you came home… to me.” 

Maybe now, you could both heal and move on to something new. 

“Me too, Trouble. Me too.”

Previous // Next

[fuck-customers]

hohohoho backer crarrel: thanksgiving week edition has been a wild ride

mega long ranty semi-coherent post so sorry abt that

ever since i had to cover for my covid-having shift lead, my manager's been scheduling me more closing shifts. not so much a "fuck managers" part but it's incredibly irritating since every time it's been me an the newest part of our team. so not only do i have to learn the closing ropes all on my own, i also have to borderline train a new person since she doesn't! do! anything!! unless you tell her to. she's super quiet and introverted, which i get! bc everyone has to start somewhere! but i'm not even 100% sure why she was hired bc we have to be outgoing and peppy and proactive. doesn't exactly line up with making the closer do all of your work on top of all her own stuff. 

i had to work thanksgiving night. that night, we had over 30 names on the restaurant's wait list at multiple points bc people still don't understand the concept of a pandemic. our to-go wall was also completely full on top of all the thanksgiving family meals we were sending out. so instead of just coping with the wait that they signed up for when they ordered food or put their name on the wait (where they tell you how long your wait will be!!) they complain to me!! just bc i wear an apron!!

that same night, there was a woman picking up her food. she was very upset bc she had to wait 😲 for her food 😲😲 while i was pulling up her order. grumbling, "this is the worst restaurant experience i've ever had," the whole nine yards. then complained she didn't get enough turkey gravy. i told her i could have someone bring her some (bc the to-go people are supposed to do that, retail's typically not supposed to leave the retail part) so she'd have to wait a few seconds. so she called a manager, who offered her a pie. she asked if we had any other pies bc the FIRST ONE SHE SAW was broken (it wasn't, i looked after she left) to which i told her she'd have to wait a few mins for another one to be brought up from the kitchen. otherwise she was free to pick any!!!! other!!!!!! pie!!!!!!!! on the pie stand. got a million times more huffy and just decided to get one off of the stand. 

there was another guy that same night who also had a to go order. i told him to get in line bc i wasn't about to stop in the middle of one transaction to get this guy's order pulled up. i get done with that transaction but some other guy with ornaments comes and sets his stuff down on the counter before i can wave the guy with a to go order over. instead of getting mad at the guy with the ornaments, the guy gets mad at me for not prioritizing him. starts yelling at me, pointing figures, again! the whole nine yards! luckily my manager was at the other end of the cash stand and made attempts to calm him down with stuff like "i can help you down here," "i'll take care of her [me]." he didn't mention anything about any sort of discipline, so i think i'm good? first though, he had begged him to stop yelling at me but the guy didn't enjoy being told to "please stop," bc he told my manager to talk to him like a man. i mean, my manager's a little effeminate, but if you perceive "please stop" from him to be less than a man, that's not our issue. thank you for yelling at a 17-year-old retail worker on thanksgiving night though! i hope that made you feel manly :)))

black friday rolls around and since we're surrounded by tourist attractions, hotels, and a mall, we ofc got a lot of traffic again. there was a couple who were complaining that another chain breakfast spot wouldn't let them in bc they weren't wearing masks. the guy said that he was so mad that he had to pull off to the side of the road bc he was so pressed over the fact that he had to wear a mask. as someone whose family member DIED OF CORONAVIRUS, i didn't take too kindly to their """oppression""" and did my little squinty smiley eyes so i looked somewhat polite. as the crarrel's resident brown queer girl, i sure WISH that was the level of oppression i faced. 

one good thing: my manager (the one who got between me and the arguing customer) offered me and the other cashier iced lattes :))) it was sugary and the coffee was burnt but tbh it was exactly what i needed and the gesture was incredibly kind :')))))) 

[dear-evanrosier]

Youtube Star (Muggle AU) (Parts 1-3)

Wednesday

Remus thought it was absolutely hilarious when the kids in his class were talking about the new video that Sirius Black had uploaded the day before, especially when one of them asked if he watched the latest. This specific set of questions had started when Remus had accidentally shown his screen saver- a selfie of him and Sirius, which Remus had taken right after making a corny joke, so Sirius was laughing in the photo- to a student while checking a text from said husband. It had sparked so many rumors that he still got bombarded with questions, and the slip up was over three months ago.

"So, Mr.Lupin did you watch Sirius Black's new video? He uploaded one last night!"

Yeah, I spent three hours helping him edit it and pick out the topic.

"No, I don't watch his content."

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

"Turns out Sirius Black is married! Did you know that?"

Yeah, I was the one who put his ring on.

"Nope, that's very cool. Now do your work."

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

"Did you go to his meet and greet in London last week?"

Yeah, I was backstage for ten hours waiting for him to finish talking to all of you.

"No, I went to the park."

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

He ended up having to change the lock screen so the students wouldn't try to go through his phone. He was just lucky none of his students had noticed the ring on his right finger matched the one shown on accident multiple times in some of Sirius' videos. He knew if the students found out then they would never get any work done, so Sirius agreed to keep it a secret.

That is until one morning Remus frogot his lunch at their house, and he only has twenty minutes to eat but their house is thirty minutes away. He decided to go without it, not wanting to make his students miss the test they had the next class. The period ended and he checked his phone, noticing a text sent almost fourty minutes ago.

Sirius❤-You left your lunch at home, can't have my Moony starving. I'll bring it over there.

He rubbed his face with one hand and listened outside, realizing the hall was louder than usual and there was laughter along with a heavy clacking sound that he knew belonged to the black combat boots of his husband.

"Who's that bag for?" Came from the hall, quite muffled due to the wooden door and chattering students.  He stood up and stretched, and walked over to the door, opening it slowly.

He immediately spotted the thick black curls down to the shoulders, wearing Remus' favorite outfit. Plain black jeans that hugged his legs, a chain dangling from one of the belt loops to the closest pocket, and one of Remus' dark green jumpers over top. The black hem of a band t-shirt just visible under the v-neck. He was also wearing a tad bit of eyeliner, which made Remus think he was even hotter. He was taking pictures with the students lining up in front of Remus' door, waiting for their next lesson with him. At the sound of the door opening, Sirius looked away from the camera and spotted the fluffy sandy colored hair and freckles covering his husband's face. He took the picture, muttered an "Excuse me." and ducked from underneath the outstretched student's hand. He walked past the rest of the line up to Remus, who was blushing terribly and had an eyebrow raised. "Yes, Black?" He inquired, and Sirius snorted.

"That's Lupin-Black to you, love." He replied, and placed a soft kiss on Remus' lips. Remus put a hand on his cheek and let the kiss last a second longer before he pulled away and gestured to the shocked expressions across the students' faces. "You know they had a test today, right?"

Sirius smiled and shook his head. "You did not tell me that. Sorry, love." He kissed Remus again and lifted up his hands, showing a paper bag with 'Moony❤' on the front. Remus rolled his eyes affectionately and took the bag. "Thanks, love." He looked back at the students. "I think you broke them," Remus told Sirius, who also turned around to look at the students' faces.

All of the kids who followed or knew of Sirius had their mouths open almost comically. Sirius let out a bark of laughter and turned back to Remus. "What, did you take your ring off?" Remus shook his head and held up his hand, showing Sirius that he still had on his identical ring. A student gasped and grabbed both of their hands, comparing the rings. "You alright there, Lavander?" Remus asked, and the bell rang. Sirius went to leave but the students wouldn't let him, blocking him from leaving the hall. The students in Remus' class ushered the two into the room, not giving them a chance to leave.

It wasn't that big of a shock that they were gay. Both of them had been public about it, actually. Remus wore little pins with pride flags on his jumpers often and would hand them out if a student asked. And Sirius' video with him coming out had gotten well over 10 million views. It was just the fact that their soft academia teacher who liked books, tea, minimal social contact, wearing oversized jumpers, and poems is married to the complete opposite. A grunge YouTuber who loved coffee, wearing band shirts and chains, adored being in the spotlight, and always had on some form of makeup.

After they had practically forced the door closed and sat in their assigned seats, Remus' couldn't help but chuckle. "I must say, this is the most focused I have seen them all year." Sirius laughed and sat on the edge of the teachers' desk, till Remus lightly pushed him off. He hopped off and eyed Remus. "Ok, where do you suppose I sit then?" He asked, and Remus got a cheeky grin, gesturing to an empty student seat in the front row.  "I am twenty-seven, not fourteen." Sirius scowled but took the seat, the students' eyes following him because Sirius Black, a youtube star, is in our classroom and is now sitting five feet from us.

Remus called their attention to the front of the room, but the students still glanced over a Sirius every few moments. "Ok, if we can get through this lesson, we can spend the last twenty minutes of class questioning my husband and me but only if you take some notes. I'll push your test back to tomorrow." A few of the students clapped, and Sirius did too, earning an eye roll and a shhh from Remus. Sirius chuckled but remained quiet during the class because he knew how much teaching meant to Remus. The kids still stole looks at Sirius whenever they could manage, but he kept his eyes on Remus the entire time, enjoying the sparkle he got whenever Remus did something he loved, not just teaching.

The class was surprisingly focused. Remus expected them to not shut up, but it was the complete opposite. Every eye was on him, but he was avoiding a specific set that normally would not be in there. He knew they were probably turning back to Sirius when he wrote something on the board. He ended up being done with the notes in only twenty minutes, giving them half an hour to question them. "Ok, we're done with notes. You can start asking questions."

The students began immediately. There were so many and they were so loud neither adult could make out the words except for few parts.

"Can-"

"Video-"

"Star-"

"Ring-" And that was basically all they could hear.

Sirius got up from where he was sitting and moved back to the teachers' desk, and didn't get shoved off this time. Instead, Remus came over and sat next to him. While the students were shooting their rapid-fire questions, Sirius turned and whispered in Remus' ear, "How often are they like this?" Remus whispered back, "Only when they talk about you, so I'd say all the time." Sirius just chuckled in response. The kids had stopped asking questions by then, so they were just staring at them while they had their short, whispered conversation. "Ok, since you guys stopped asking questions, please ask one at a time," Remus asked, and the students began the questions, just slower.

"Can you post a video so everyone knows?"

"Is his the voice the one in videos from a different room?"

"Since when did you like youtube stars?"

"How come you never showed us your ring?"

"How long have you been married?"

"Forget that, how long have you been together?"

And a lot more. After they stopped talking again, Remus and Sirius began answering questions.

"We've been together for twelve years, married for eight," Sirius told them, and a couple of kids swore because he started making videos ten years ago and nobody realized that he was married for the majority of that time. "How come you didn't mention it?!" A girl from the back shouted, and Sirius chuckled. The two kept answering questions until they got to the last one. "Are you going to make a video making it public?" One boy asked, and the two adults glanced at each other. "Er, I don't know. It's up to Remus, really." Sirius told them, then checked his watch. He jumped off the desk quickly. "Shit, I have to go. I have that meeting in about ten minutes." He placed a chaste kiss on his lips, then waved to the students. He opened the door, waved one last time to Remus, and left. The students in class turned expectantly to Remus, but they didn't get a chance to speak because the bell rang. It was the end of the day since it was an early let out.

A few of the kids in the school who drove managed to get pictures of Sirius on his motorbike, waving at them before he sped off, none of them knowing what he was doing there.

When Sirius got home two hours later, Remus was sitting on the couch, reading a book. After a small discussion, they went to bed, excited for the next day.

Friday

"Quiet down! Quiet down, everyone!" Remus began the class, attempting to call attention to the rowdy group of kids. After they all stopped talking, Remus began his speech. "Since you, all got great marks yesterday, you can have a free day today. Do whatever you like, just stay in your seats and please remain quiet." He sat down at his desk, leaving the students to their own devices. A girl stood up and walked to the front of the room where Remus's desk was. He looked up when she was standing next to him.

"Can I help you, Lavander?" He asked, and she smiled. "Actually, professor, I was hoping I could play a video on your computer?" She asked. Remus, who already knew what video she wanted to play, agreed. She searched up the video titled 'Introducing... My Amazing Husband!' and paused it before it started, turning back to the class. "Have any of you seen this yet?" She asked, and everybody shook their heads. "Good."  She pressed play and sat down, every eye on the projected screen.

Sirius was in his normal chair, his hair in a bun and wearing an oversized jumper and multiple rings on his fingers, giving a mixed vibe. "Ok. It's on. Hi guys! So yesterday, I went to visit my husband at work so I could drop off the lunch he forgot. He does that often."

"No, I don't!" A muffled voice came from behind the closed door, and Sirius snickered and swiveled his chair to face the door as he cupped a hand over his mouth. "Whatever you say, Moony!" He called back before turning his chair again to look at the camera.

"Anyways, I brought him his lunch and his students found out. So when I got home from a meeting later that night, we talked a little. And did more."

"Sirius!" Another muffled shout. Sirius just laughed in response. "Ok, ok! But my dear husband has decided that he is okay with everyone knowing who he is. So, will you come in here, love?"

The door opened to reveal Remus, standing in plaid pajama pants and cropped band shirt hanging just above the waistband of his pants. Sirius eyed him as he came into the room, sitting in Sirius' lap.

"Did you really have to wear my crop top? You know it distracts me." Sirius told him, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. "Yes. Yes, I did. It's payback for when you wore it and you knew I had to grade papers." Remus responded, and Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Fine."

He looked at the camera again, gesturing to the man in his lap. "So, this is my husband. And I wanted to show some videos of a younger us, which Remus has agreed to show. Isn't that right, dear?" Remus nodded and Sirius pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Please be warned that there is some blood in a couple of these videos, I just figured I should tell you in case that stuff freaks you out," Sirius explained.

The footage changed, showing the two as teens, seventeen at the oldest. It was light out and looked to be around summertime. Both were only wearing swimming shorts. Sirius' were dark green and Remus' was a light blue. There was a large tattoo of the star constellation, Sirius, over his heart and the alchemy symbol for water on his right bicep. Remus had phases of the moon tatted on the inside of his right forearm.  They were standing on a roof, the footage shot from the ground. "Jump! Jump, Sirius, jump!" The cameraman yelled, and Sirius nodded enthusiastically while tying his long hair into a bun using the scrunchie on his wrist.

"Of course! You know I always will!" Remus grabbed his hand as soon as he let go of his hair, yelling back. "Absolutely not, James! I don't care if it's onto a trampoline, he will not be jumping off a roof! Peter didn't, so neither will he." Sirius gave a mischievous glance towards the camera then back to Remus, whose eyes widened.

He quickly tried to free his grasp, but Sirius clenched his hand tightly. "No, no no! Sirius Black, I swear on Merlin's saggy tits if you-" his promise was cut short by his own screaming. Sirius ran off the roof at a sprint, dragging Remus with him. The camera followed them as best as possible considering how fast they were falling.

Their hands broke free when they landed, and Sirius bounced away, almost falling off the edge of the trampoline had he not grabbed the metal. He climbed back over and jumped over to Remus, who was laying on his back in the middle. He rolled over him, pushing himself up by his legs and arms overtop of Remus. "Ok there, Rem?" He asked, and Remus huffed, staring away from Sirius.

"No! You could have bloody well killed me!" Sirius laughed and shook his head. "No, I couldn't have. It's barely a ten-foot jump. You've done worse." Remus huffed again and crossed his arms to the best of his ability since Sirius was still hovering over him. Sirius changed his position, moving his legs so he was basically sitting on top of Remus. He used one hand to cup Remus' cheek and force him to look him in the face. "You fell for me." Remus smiled slightly and cupped Sirius' cheek back. "Why, I suppose I did. But that didn't have a bad consequence, so I don't really see how that's worse." Sirius ignored the last bit and brought his face down to Remus' kissing him, who eagerly kissed back. A boy with brown hair jumped over them, causing them to bounce away from each other, and Remus really did fall off the edge.  

Sirius got over there as fast as possible, jumping off the trampoline. James followed him on the ground. Sirius was helping up Remus, who was holding his face with a hand. It looked like he had hit his face into a nearby lawn chair, which had blood on the leg. "Please, let me see." Sirius pleaded with him, and Remus winced as he pulled his hand away, exposing the wound. The large gash went from his left jaw diagonally up to the bridge of his nose. It was an angry red but the color was almost purple around the edges and bled freely.

"Peter! Get the car! We have to go to the hospital!" Sirius called, and Remus put the hand back over his face. The boy with light brown hair ran past the camera to the cars, apologizing over and over. And the camera changed scenes.

Now it was dark out, the stars lighting up the night sky along with fairy lights strung up. The people there were dressed in fancy dresses or long-sleeved collared shirts and slacks. One woman had red hair tied into an elegant bun, adorned with pins that sparkled, had on a wedding dress that was to the floor and flowy. The bodice was covered in jewels that shone when the light reflected off of them. She was dancing with an eighteen-year-old Sirius.

"You really do look beautiful, Lily," Sirius told her before spinning her around and dipping her. She giggled and replied with a "And so do you, Sirius." They kept dancing for a moment until Lily looked away and then quickly turned back to him. "So?" She asked, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

Lily rolled her eyes and gestured to two guys dancing, one in a tux and one wearing black slacks a light blue collared shirt. The one in a tux had glasses and unruly black hair that looked like it had a bad attempt at flattening it. The man in the blue shirt had a large scar across his cheek from his jaw to his nose and freckles covering his face. His soft honey-colored hair was fluffy and hanging over his face. They seemed to be laughing and having fun as they spun each other around. "When are you going to propose to Remus?" She asked, and Sirius stopped for a moment before he continued the small patterned dance.

"How did you know about that?" It was in a hushed tone, but the camera still picked it up. "I was in your flat getting the planner that James left, and I found it when I looked in the couch cushions. Turned out the book was under your bed." She was practically laughing as she told him, purely because of the shocked face. "Besides, it's not like it's a big secret, anyway. You give him this look every time you see him, and he does the same. I'm surprised he hasn't proposed to you yet." Sirius contemplated her words for a moment and offered a small smile. "Thanks, Lils. Oh! I think James wants to dance with you." He nodded his head behind her at the man with black hair.

He held out his hand to Lily and bowed. "Can I have this dance, my dear wife?" Lily giggled and freed herself from Sirius' arms, taking his hand. "Why you can, my dear husband." James chuckled and led her away from Sirius. Remus took her spot, resting his head on Sirus' shoulder as Sirius put both hands on Remus' waist. "Hello, love. Enjoying the wedding?" Sirius asked, and Remus shrugged.

"No matter how many times James said he would marry her, I never actually thought it would happen," Remus spoke freely, and Sirius laughed at the bluntness. "I don't blame you. It took him six years for a date, and I was worried he would screw something up at one point." Sirius responded, then caught sight of the camera on them, and his eyes widened. He murmured something to Remus and let go, walking to the camera.

"Peter! How much did you get?" Sirius asked, staring straight at them. "Almost all of your dance with Lily." The person behind the camera responded, and Sirius groaned and ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at Remus. "Please don't show this to Remus, I don't know when I'm going to do it, and I definitely don't want Remus to find out because you showed him this video." Peter spoke again, "Of course not, Sirius. I wouldn't want to ruin your plan."  "Thanks, Petey." Sirius flashed a grateful smile then walked back to Remus, spinning him around twice before dipping him and kissing him madly.

The screen changed again, showing young kids all wearing black shorts and white t-shirts, holding water guns. It looked like James, Lily, Peter, Remus, and Sirius in a line, in that order. They looked to be about fifteen and were standing in a large grassy field, a large stone manor off to the side. "Mum, are you recording?" A young James asked and someone out of shot responded. "Yes, hun. Am I going to be recording this entire thing?" James nodded eagerly and started talking. "Ok, I don't know if this will ever be put somewhere public, but we're recording this because we want to. Maybe we can show our future kids. Eh, Evans?" He turned to the redhead next to him and she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Really, Potter? I'm only here for Remus, and that's cause he's almost my brother. I am not here for your terrible attempts to get a date." She huffed and moved in between Remus and Peter to escape James. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. But anyway, it is our dear Remus' birthday and being the genius that he is, came up with the best idea for us to do. Tie-dye war!" He held the water gun above his head, the dark liquid sloshing around inside.

"All of our water guns are filled with a different tie-dye color. So we are going to put these goggles on so we don't get any in our eyes- Sirius will you get the goggles?" Sirius walked off-screen, coming back a moment later and passing out the goggles.  He returned to his spot in line and snapped his own pair on. "So. How this works is we just shoot each other until everyone is colored. The person at the end of the game who has the whitest shirt gets to give each one of us a dare later tonight when it gets dark and we set up a fire. Does everyone agree?" James looked down the line and got smiles and nods from everyone. "Ok, then. Mum, on the count of three?" He looked toward the camera as he said it, and the woman behind it immediately started the countdown.

"Three... Two... One... GO!!"

All of them took off, running in different directions trying to hide. Remus, before taking off, managed to shoot each of them with a long stripe down their backs, so that if they stood in a line you could see it. He ran to the side, hiding behind a large tree out so the camera didn't see him. There was a loud shriek, however. Remus ran out from behind the tree, Sirius following right behind him, shooting him with the gun so his back had turned into splatters of navy blue. Remus ran behind a large rock, out of Sirius' view. So he turned his attention to Lily, who was standing near a mound of wildflowers. Her eyes widened almost comically wide, and Sirius aimed for her shirt.

As he shot the dye, Lily was shoved out of the way by James, "Noooooooo." whose front was now almost completely blue as he laid in the grass. Lily knelt down beside him. "Why are you so dramatic?" She placed a kiss on his cheek then ran off, leaving him to be attacked by Remus, who had now left his place from behind the rock to take his turn at the sitting duck. No one noticed Peter and Lily from behind the trees, sneaking up on the group. Then they yelled, "CHARGE!!" and everything was fair game. Hot pink and navy blue and dark green and pastel blue and mint green were flying through the air, all of the colors landing on the others. Well, on most of the others. When the game was finished, Remus had won with his shirt only partly covered in color, the majority of his front was white. The others were completely covered in a mix of colors, hardly any white spots.

They stood back in the line, eyeing Remus with jealousy as James' mother declared him the winner.

TW: Mentions of Child abuse, blood

It was dark again, and they all had blankets wrapped around them, huddling in front of a fire. The camera shifted a bit then was still. "James, honey. I'm going inside to make sure dinner is done, your father will be home soon. The camera is set up in that chair so it can see you all. Don't do anything too reckless." The woman's voice was back. James smiled and looked above the camera. "Thanks, mum. I love you." "Love you too, James."

"OK, since I won, I get to give you each dares!" Remus bounced to his feet and the others groaned. "Should have known you were going to win, mate. You're too smart for your own good." Remus chuckled at Peter's remark and walked around the circle, eyeing them as he passed. He stopped in between Lily and James, smirking at them. Lily's smile dropped. "Remus Lupin I swear to Merlin if you do what I think you're going to do-"

"Oh, don't worry Lily. This is in your favor. Kind of." He waved her off with his hand. "Lily, I dare you to kiss James." Lily looked shocked, and James was elated. She stuttered, and Remus bent down to whisper something in her ear. He stood back up and smiled, but Lily only returned a glare. "Fine. I'll do it." She stood up and took a step closer to James, pecked his lips for less than five seconds, and sat back down. James had a large grin on his face, as did Remus.

"Ok, James. Your turn. I dare you to not ask Lily out for two months." James' grin fell and Sirius roared with laughter at his face. James glared at Remus and huffed. "Ok, then. Only cause it's your birthday. And cause it's getting a little old." Remus' grin spread and he walked back to Peter. "I know you don't like anybody, so I'm giving you something different. Jump off the tree. The small one, of course. I don't want you getting hurt." Remus motioned to the short tree next to them, and Peter stood up, dropping the blanket on the ground where he was.

He walked over slowly, climbing up as high as he could, which was only about four feet off the ground since it was a small tree. "You'll be fine, Petey!" Sirius called at his hesitation, and he yelled back, "Ok!" before jumping off. He rolled once he reached the ground, spinning once or twice before he stopped, sitting on his knees. He held his head for a moment before staggering up and back to his spot on the ground. Sirius clapped him on the back and looked to Remus, who sat beside him.

"Ok, Remmy boy. What's my dare?" Sirius asked, and Remus put a  hand on his chin in mock contemplation. "Kiss me." It was clear what he said, but Sirius still exclaimed in shock. "What?" Remus stumbled over his words at the reaction but stopped the moment Sirius grabbed the top of his shirt and smashed their mouths together roughly, getting catcalls and wolf whistles from the other three. Sirius pulled apart, breathing heavily and still holding onto his shirt.  "Was that a good dare?" Remus asked, and Sirius responded by kissing him again.

The footage changed once again. The room was filled with candles and it looked romantic. Sirius was standing in a white button-down and black slacks, his hair neatly parted. "Remus, can you come in here for a moment, love?" Sirius called, and a voice came from behind the door. "Just a minute, Siri! I'm making dinner!"

"This is more important than dinner!"

"Fine, fine!"

Remus came into the room, wearing just a jumper and jeans. He looked around at the candles, breathless. "Holy shit, Pads. This is amazing." He stepped forward cautiously, making sure to not knock any over. He looked Sirius up and down before practically jumping on him and kissing him madly. After a moment he put his feet back on the floor, still holding onto Sirius' shoulders and their foreheads together. "This is so beautiful, Sirius. I don't deserve this."

"You deserve the world, Remus. That's why I did this. And also so I could teach you to dance." He moved them into a waltz position, one hand holding onto Remus' hand and the other on his hip. Remus copied the position. "I know I suck, but why teach me?" Sirius chuckled and began the movements with no music. "We may need it someday. You never know." He placed a kiss on his nose and spun him, making a candle knock over. But it didn't catch on fire. Sirius took note of the shocked face and chuckled. "The ones on the floor are fake, I know how clumsy you are."

The footage changed once more, with a Sirius sitting in front of the camera and adjusting it, his dark hair curtaining his face. "Love, what are you doing?" Remus's tired voice came from behind, and Sirius finished with the camera, backing up and sitting next to Remus on a light blue couch, grabbing his hand. Both were sitting in Christmas pajamas and a tree was in the background, the colorful lights standing out against the grey walls. It had to be the previous Christmas or the one before since both men looked almost the exact same.

"Sirius, it is eight-thirty in the morning. I want to go to sleep. So, please, tell me what I'm doing so I can pass out until we have dinner with Peter, James, Lily, and Harry. I'm quite sure Marlene and Dorcas are going to come. And there's no doubt that Lily invited Frank and Alice, who are going to bring Neville. So that's seven other adults and two children. I need energy for this bullshit."

Sirius chuckled, kissing Remus' hand quickly. "Yes, love. I know. But I wanted to film a video while I had the idea. And I won't even think of posting it till you're comfortable with being out." Sirius smiled at Remus, who rolled his eyes. "Fine. What this amazing idea you had to wake me up for."

Sirius let go of Remus' hand to turn around and pick up a notepad that was sitting on a table just behind the couch. "Terrible pick-up lines." He grinned, and Remus groaned, grabbing a throw pillow and pressing it over his face. "Do you really have to? On this Holy day?"

His voice was muffled by the pillow, which just made Sirius chuckled again.

"Yes. You know I'm an atheist. So come one then, love. It'll be fun."

Remus took the pillow off his face, grumbling, "Tell me why I married you again."

"Because I'm handsome and you love me." Sirius grinned, and Remus grumbled something the camera didn't pick up. But it was enough to turn Sirius a tad bit pink. "Well yes, that too. But anyways."

Remus smiled at his flustered husband and looked at the camera, eyebrow raised. "So are you just going t say random pick-up lines, or are they all Christmas themed?"

Sirius shrugged, running over the list. "Little of both. I just wanted to see your reaction to some of these, considering you don't get embarrassed easily."

"I probably will since one, it's you and I'm one hundred percent sure that at least three-quarters of those are going to be dirty, and two it's on camera so you will definitely be using this against me in the future."

"Nah. Only half of them are dirty. So, can I start asking them?"

"Fire away, love."

Sirius smiled and kissed Remus quickly, then pulled his finger down the line until he found one that made him smirk. Remus' own smiled dropped lightly, trying the read the list upside down before Sirius pulled it away quickly. "Tch. Nope."

Remus groaned again and Sirius smiled before reading one of the lines.

"Good thing I have my library card, cause I'm checking you out."

He added a wink to the end of the line, and Remus shook his head.

"I sure hope you do, considering we're married."

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly and huffed before reading the next.

"You stole my heart, so can I steal your last name?

ubnbnubnnu9n9ubn9ne9uvnvnfsvns9nsfubnfb

Now James was holding the camera, trying to set it up on an unseen object. Remus was behind him, shaking his head.

"Let me do that, James. I usually help Sirius so I know how to do it."

"Sure. Knock yourself out, Remmy boy."

Remus rolled his eyes at the nickname and moved in front of the camera, only taking a few more seconds to put it in place. He moved back and sat next to a huffing James.

"I did most of it."

"Sure you did, James."

He huffed again and leaned back on the couch, stretching out. The full extent of the room was open, and it was beautiful.

A large ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the sleek leather couch the two sat on. A large cabinet with no doors behind them was full of framed photos of James and an older woman and man, smiling at the camera. A few had Sirius in them, arm slung over James shoulder amd smiling widely. More frames lined the walls of the large room, some paintings and some pictures of James and his friends.

"James, what are we doing?" Remus asked after a moment of the other doing nothing.

"My dear Remus, we are going to-"

James cut off abruptly, turning his hesd to look at something off screen.

"Did someone knock at the door?" Remus asked, and James nodded, getting up and walking out of frame. A small squek signaled the door opening, before James shouted.

"Sirius! Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you?!"

Remus jumped up and also ran off camera, coming back with James half dragging a bloody Sirius between them. They set him on the couch and he winced and cried out, his injures fully  exposed to the camera.

A large cut ran from the corner of his lip to under his eye, similar to one of Remus' s scars and still bleeding a little. His lip was busted and swollen, along with a black eye. He tried sitting up and cried out again, clutching his side in a way that suggested he broke a few of his ribs.

"Sirius, what happenened?" James repeated, and Remus held a hand out to stop him.

"Hold on, James."

He bent down, taking one of Sirius' hands into both of his own. The other was still clutching his waist.

"Sirius, I need you to tell me what happened, ok? Will you tell me?"

He let out a broken sob and leaned forward, trying to put his head on Remus' shoulder, instead yelling out once more and falling back on the couch, panting and wincing every few seconds.

"Shh, baby. Please tell me."

He lifted Sirius' hand to his mouth, kissing it gently out of the view of the camera.

"She found the letters."

It wasn't much, but Remus visibly paled when Sirius said it.

"What does he mean? Remus?" James was looking between the two, face caught in a worried expression. Remus turned to him, lip caught between his teeth.

"We wrote letters back and forth instead of texting. His mother found them."

James paled too, and walked closer to the couch.

"James, the camera. Get the camera. We'll have to show this tape to the court."

Remus stood up, placing a gentle kiss to Sirius' forehead and leaving the room while James walked quickly towards the screen, looking angry amd scared all at the same time.

It went back to just Sirius.

"I am so sorry, I did not know that taoe was in there. I apolgize if I have triggered something for any of you."

[ragnarachael]

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

i’ve been meaning to do this for FOREVER when i saw this in my notifs!! i was tagged by @sdwolfpup! (i know a few others like Bee and Star have tagged me, but i CANNOT RECALL AND I AM TOO LAZY TO HUNT SO HERE WE ARE.)

Name/nickname: rach by most, slut by the lovely @shiningloki, princess and more by @frostbitten-written,  my love and probably more by @lokistan, and bean by @walkingaline!

Gender: female

Star sign: gemini!

Height: 5′7″

Birthday: June 20

Time: it is currently 4:06 am! (4:32 am by the time i finish! bijou is running around like crazy and is trying to type and say hello so—hi from my cat!)

Favorite bands: Hozier is an ever constant in my music rotation. other than him, Mother Mother. i listen to too much music to really check.

Favorite solo artists: uhhhh i THINK i just listen to bands more often than solo artists. does Hozier count for here?

Song stuck in my head: ZANZIBAR BY BILLY JOEL.

Last movie: The Mask! I watched it with Hayley a few nights ago.

Last show: that i can recall? Bridgerton!

When did I create this blog: wayy back in September 2013!

What do I post: i post my writing, tom hiddleston gifs (listen. look. sue me.), tidbits of my life, little jokes and stuff! i’m a storyteller, i love rambling about things! so primarily that!

Last thing googled: “can cats drink vanilla almond milk?” because my dad asked me if bijou could have some of the milk he used for his cereal.

Other blogs: i have a sideblog more “formal” than this one: rancheely. i also have an rp blog that i really need to get back into!

Do I get asks: as of late since i’ve been a bit inactive, no. but normally i certainly do! i currently have a bunch of mutuals who have sent me really sweet chain messages. i keep them in there to smile during the day! (i also have so, so many drabble reqs i still need to hit. don’t call me out)

Why I chose my url: well, the first two urls fit my likes then. this url (ragnarachael) is because of Thor: Ragnarok! Ragnarok really kicked me into my whole Marvel stage that i’ve been in since mid to late 2017! thank you tom hiddleston in a whole black suit!

Following: 496!

Followers: 1,098! (holy shit??? i love you guys???? also i love how i’ve been gaining followers while i’m inactive it’s so amusing??)

Average hours of sleep: hah. sleep? what’s that? (in reality: it varies. sometimes nothing. other nights? 2 to 10 hours. depends entirely on me and my brain.)

Lucky number: i don’t have one!

Instruments: ukulele that i haven’t picked up in a year, used to play the drums and a little piano! 

What am I wearing: black leggings, a thespian t-shirt, no socks! (should probs grab some though i cannot feel my toes)

Dream job: actress, or writer! maybe a journalist or something to do with english, if i ever decide to pursue an english degree!

Dream trip: oh god. paris. italy. ireland. london. i’m stopping here my list can and will grow.

Favorite food: at any restaurant if they have southwestern egg rolls, i legally have to order a serving of it. for me. for the table. whoever. so those. (also maybe those pot stickers from t.g.i friday’s i had the other week)

Nationality: american, usa??

Favorite song: this month it is crabwalk by party in the hills! Cana hates it, Hayley loves it. listen to it.

Last book read: the last book i touched to read was actually The Invisible Life Of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab! (we ignore how i started Midnight Sun and haven’t picked it up) however, haven’t done much reading unless it’s forms for work or my personal life! 

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: 1.) MCU! (preferably Asgard, if i can’t do that, shove me into New York around maybe say Spider-Man: Homecoming? or actually perhaps Doctor Strange—)

2.) Bridgerton! (blame my love period pieces, thank u mom) 

3.) MAMMA MIA. PLEASE

well. now i have to tag some people, but i honestly cannot think of any because i know mostly everything on this list about some of my mutuals i talk to. so if you’d like to do it, i tag you!

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

Warnings: None, swf. 

If you prefer reading this on wattpad, I posted the story there too. My account name is @ KarlaNicoleM I have the same profile picture and backdrop. Hope you enjoy 😊

Due to there not being many things to do during this first week, I've been mainly sitting at my desk or hanging around the class with Aizawa and watching over the students. I was currently wrapping up my day with some late lunch and a Netflix at my desk when I heard a booming voice walking into the teacher lounge. "M&M!"

I choked on my soba. "Mic! I'm eating damn it!" The tall man tackled me once I turned my seat over.

He continued to hug me into his chest, "I'm sorry, I just missed my sweet little M&M. Now that it's Friday, we should hang out and catch up." Mic's green eyes looked lovingly at me with glowing excitement.

"I missed you too. Even though we've talked nonstop while I was gone. But don't you have your radio show tonight?" I pushed him back slightly, still wanting to be held by my best friend. The dude smelled like vanilla and hairspray, which wasn't the best combination, but I'll sacrifice my nose to hold him.

"It's not until one in the morning. And it's almost 3:15, so I got more than enough time to give my lovely shrimp attention." He patted my head and grinned.

"When do you sleep?" I asked while swatting away his hand.

"Don't know." I shook my head—same old Hazashi Yamada. The biggest doofus, I know. "Plus, it won't be just us. Iris and Kayama are joining, and I am still trying to convince Aizawa to come. It's just dinner; that's it."

"Eeee, I don't know. Did you invite Lily... errrr... Ms. Rowell? Iris knows her, and I don't want her left out."

"Of course she's invited! But she did say she'll only go if you are."

"What about All Might?" I raised my eyebrow.

"He said no." The Yamada pout just made a comeback, folks!

"Awe no, I guess I'll still go. I'll just leave my soba for another meal." Mic shouted with glee and nearly busted my eardrums again. He went in for another bone-crushing hug, but this time he picked me up and twirled me around. I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement.

"Mic be professional, or I'll write a complaint to HR." Aizawa walked in sluggishly with his sleeping bag in hand and papers in the other. He looked even more beaten up today.

"Oh, is someone jealous? Don't worry, Aizawa; I got some love for you too." Hizashi put me down and went open arms in Aizawa's direction only to meet with Aizawa's capture weapon clinging onto his body. "This is just mean. Are you going to dinner with the rest of us?"

Aizawa retracted his weapon and sat down at his desk, "No. I have papers to grade and then go on patrol. I told you this."

Mic went to sit at his desk next to Aizawa's, "Yeah, I know, but dinner is happening at like 5. It gives you roughly more than an hour to grade, and patrolling is late at night while I'm at the station. PLUS M&M is coming this time. It's like the old gang is back together!" The six-foot-one man hunched over and clasped his hands together while his friend just stared at his computer, ignoring him. I slowly sunk in my seat; I don't think me coming along would convince Aizawa to come.

I tried to make myself look busy and pretended that I ignored their conversation, which is hard given how loud Mic was. "You still go by that dumb nickname?"

I looked up at Aizawa. His charcoal grey eyes bore into me, "Hmm, well yeah, I never minded it."

"Are you really going to dinner? Don't you have work to do?" His eyebrows scrunched in annoyance, but his voice shredded a little curiosity.

I pursed my lips, "Nope, no students feel the need to meet with me at the moment. And you haven't addressed any concerns about them, so I have a pretty open schedule."

"What have you been doing this whole week, then?"

"Helping 1-B's counselor adjust to how things work here mainly. I also have been reviewing the student files and my notes if a random student comes in without an appointment or helping Toshinori adjust and give him my advice on teaching. Oh! Mic also gave me a few of his English assignments to review and grade." I swiveled in my seat as I talked to him.

Aizawa looked a little surprised but tried to hide it quickly. The raven-haired mess of a man turned to Mic. "You make her grade your papers?"

"ONLY WHEN SHE ISN'T DOING ANYTHING!" He held his hands up.

Aizawa hung his head and sighed, "I'll send you a file of things I noticed about the students and my recommendations on what to talk to them about sometimes this weekend. Just please stop making things easy for Mic." I just nodded and muttered thanks while he logged out of his computer and got ready to go home.

"Get some sleep, Eraserhead!" Mic yelled after Aizawa left the lounge. "Now, that it's just us. I'll take you home and wait for you to get ready to go out."

"Um, what about you? You're in your hero outfit?" I say as we packed up.

"I'll change at yours." He shrugged. "I have a bag with my civilian clothes in the teacher's lockers."

He's only saying that because I literally live on campus, the walk wouldn't be bothersome. Principal Nezu was nice enough to give me my old "dorm" from my high school days at UA to live in while I work here. Now, UA wasn't a boarding school by any means. But when I started going to school there, I was, well, a special case. Due to my quirk, and my family problems growing up, the staff thought it was a good idea to live on campus to keep other people and myself better safe. My dorm was pretty much a quick home improvement project. It was located in the back of the campus, away from students' line of sight, and many trees covered it. Nezu told me after I left, he decided to build more dorms for staff that didn't originally have a place to stay either. So, you'll find Lily and Iris here too, aside from me.

When we got to my dorm, Mic had no shame in going to the guest room/my office to change. I almost forgot how well he knows this place because of high school. I made my way into my own room to change out of my work clothes. I took my hair out of my bun and let the wavy dark brown locks fall and give my scalp a rest. Looking into the closet, I yelled for Mic, "'Zashi, what's the dress attire?"

I hear a knock, and the door opens slightly, "Are you decent?"

"Yes." I saw while taking out a grey sweater and showcased it to the man. "Is this okay, with a skirt and boots? Or do I have to pick something else out?"

Mic was wearing a maroon long sleeve with... white pants... Am I really asking this about what to wear? Then he still had his hair up. He was holding a black bomber jacket and had a gold chain around his neck. He also switched his sunglasses to his normal glasses. "Considering what I am wearing? That outfit should be fine. It's supposed to be dressy casual." He scratched the back of his neck, "Do you have a hairbrush I can use? I can't find mine in my bag, and I want to brush out the hairspray."

I pointed him to the bathroom and then proceeded to change. I went with a navy blue skirt with a white cross-line pattern and some thigh-high black velvet boots. I got to add some height to myself while hanging out with my colleagues that are all 5'8 and above. Don't want to look like anyone's child. Because of how my hair had a weird bump from the bun I wore all day, I decided to go for a half up half down hairstyle, mimicking Mic's man-bun, and then I just touched up the makeup I had one from work. Hizashi and I were about to walk when he stopped me and handed me my glasses with a stern look. I smiled and grabbed them and put them in my bag, "I don't need them right now."

"This is why you're blind." He shook his head and opened the door for me. I simply smiled and made my way out with him behind me.

"Kayama, I said I didn't want to drink, I still have my radio show." Mic continued to push Kayama's third beer away as Kayama laughed.

I was sitting between Iris and Lily and enjoying the show Mic and Kayama gave the whole restaurant. "So, ignoring them, how's your first official week in Japan?" Iris spoke up. The cute strawberry blonde brunette was so excited to hear that Lily and I were coming to work at UA. At some point, we were all working together at the Rebel Agency; Iris was my age, but I skipped a year in school, so I graduated with Mic and Aizawa. So, she didn't come to the agency until a year after I was already working there, but as soon as she came here and Lily became close friends, so it wasn't hard for her to settle in. I remember Lily even commented that the agency needed a little more cheeriness when Iris joined.

"It was alright; I didn't know rusty my Japanese was going to be. I literally sound like how I did when I was in school." I took a sip of my glass. "Literally worked so hard on my R's and L's, and now I am back to square one."

"At least you knew Japanese before working here. I learned a little through you and Iris. But before this job, I had to take classes, and I still mess up." Lily took a bite of her food.

"Good thing, the students are learning English, so it makes it easier for both of you, right Mic?" Iris was looking at the two of us and rolled her eyes at Mic and Kayama.

Mic and Kayama both had stopped their shenanigans to join in on the conversation, "I'm just glad to have the whole gang back together, and some new people. Lily, you are just as amazing as my M&M says."

Kayama was looking towards the direction of the entrance and tapped Mic's shoulder, "Yamada, didn't you say that Aizawa wasn't joining us?"

"Yeah, why? OH HEY SHO!" Aizawa strolled to the table wearing a long sleeve black shirt, dark washed jeans, boots, and his capture weapon wrapped around his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I ended up having a little extra time on my hands. I came mainly to speak to Montoya, though." He shifted a little on his legs with his hands stuffed in his hands and his dark hair falling out his small ponytail. "It's about work."

I moved to get up, smoothing out my skirt, and grabbing my purse. "Alright, let's go outside then." Aizawa held his hand out to guide me back to the entrance as I stepped out in front of him. The winter air of January lightly kissed my cheeks and ears, definitely intending to make my skin blush. I faced Aizawa and hugged myself as it noticeably got colder. I should've brought a jacket instead of relying on this sweater. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"It's a few things. First, I want to ask you if you would like to assist me in training the students?" He folded his arms—the long sleeve shirt doing a really horrible job hiding his arm's defined muscles.

"I don't have a teaching license in Japan. Literally, the only thing I can do is counseling because of my psych degree. Plus, I don't feel comfortable using my quirk on students." I hugged myself harder and shifted my weight to my left foot.

"You could say it's for counseling purposes. You're able to absorb their quirk and mimic them, making it better to understand them and counsel them. And it's better for someone to have a similar quirk to train them." He countered.

"I only like using my quirk on villains. Even out the playing field and also have them be punished for misusing their quirk." I was getting annoyed. He, of all people, should know how I never like to use my quirk on innocent people. Let alone students.

"Can you at least think about it? I think it would be great for the students. Plus, you made a huge impression on them. They won't stop talking about the number two American Hero." He smirked a little. "They'll probably listen to you more than they do with me."

I huffed, "Don't kiss my ass; it makes me uncomfortable to know you have the ability to do it." I paused a little. It wasn't a completely illogical idea. And he's right; I could say it's for counseling purposes. But then that would put Class 1-B at a disadvantage... "Oh my god! Are you asking me because you and Vlad have some weird rivalry when it comes to your classes?"

The stoic man just stared blankly at me with barely noticeable wide eyes, "No..." He looks anyway but my face. He's lying.

"I can't believe you asked me to... I can't... I have no words." I started laughing.

"Stop laughing." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and held a scowl. I swear no one would believe me if they knew that the Eraserhead had a childish side.

"I'm sorry. I'll have to think about it." I wiped the tears coming from my eye as I clutched my stomach from laughing too hard. "What was the other thing you needed to tell..." I was interrupted by a crashing sound and screaming. Aizawa and I looked over in the direction of the sound to see people running towards our direction. The next thing we see is a huge guy with molten rock and lava quirk terrorizing everyone in his path. "Shit. I can't do anything while on my suspension. Any bad move I make that ends up on the news, and I could say goodbye to my license forever."

"Go back inside and tell the others. I'll take care of it." Aizawa motioned me back inside the restaurant.

"But you don't have your suit. Your goggles! People will see that you in your civilian clothes, then what? You'll be exposed." I grabbed his arms to pull him inside with me, but he stopped me.

"I'll be fine. Trust me; stay inside." He placed my hands gently in his and gave me a soft look. It was like I was looking at the seventeen-year-old boy I left years ago. I was frozen. Next thing I knew, I stood beside Lily while Aizawa called for the rest of the table to help him out.

Not being allowed to do hero work sucks.

———————————————————————

My master list 😊

Tag list:

@inumorph @thatgirlwithcamera @mel-sanch

[aquaticalay]

Centurion .Chapter Four.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sequel to For Something Greater

Summary: (Y/n) is an active duty Navy SEAL Commander, the first and only woman to ever become a SEAL. After successfully stopping a genocide with the help of the Avengers, she becomes a bridge between the military and the earth's mightiest heroes. But even as her relationship with Bucky grows, she decides not to tell him about the nightmares and trauma that haunt her. Both their secrets begin to unravel when Bucky accidentally stumbles upon a piece of dangerous information about (Y/n) that she doesn't know about herself— something she must never find out about.

Genre: Action, Drama, Romance

Warning/s for the series: cursing, violence, death, eventual smut, PTSD

Warning/s for the chapter: nothing, just Bucky and the reader trespassing lol

Word count: 2.1k

Note: The plot is heavily inspired by the song 'in the dark' by Bring Me The Horizon, and 'Mercy' by Muse. So yeah, go listen to it if you want to :)))  I'll post a new chapter every two days.

Let me know if you want to be in the taglist

(Taglist will be reblogged)

THIS IS A SEQUEL TO 'FOR SOMETHING GREATER.' IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, THE MASTERLIST IS IN MY BIO.

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS SERIES REVOLVES AROUND POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER. (Including, but not limited to: anxiety/panic attacks, extreme mood swings , nightmares, intrusive thoughts, insomnia, irritability, hypervigilance, and hyperarousal)

Bucky woke you up at three in the morning. He told you that you're going to go to a place that might hold some information about Petrov. You agreed reluctantly, wiping the yawning tears from your eyes.

After you got dressed in leggings and denim jacket, and him in a black zip-up hoodie and jeans, he gave you a gun. It was a black Avengers-issued semi-automatic gun similar to a Sig Sauer P320, only more powerful and practical. Small with a built-in silencer, it was obviously made for concealed carry, possibly for espionage purposes. He handed a black inside-the-waistband holster that came with it. He eyed you carefully, "There's seven bullets in there," he informed, then his voice became low, "For emergencies only."

He was serious about it, and you understood. To be honest, you weren't planning on using it either. Not unless you really have to.

You nodded, tucking it under your waist band, the holster pressed tight against your skin. You would expect red marks there when you take it off.

You watch him do the same with his own gun, a similar model to the one he gave you, slightly bigger in size and darker in color. He opened the door, his steps heavy and motioned his chin to the door, a gesture to tell you that you should go out. 

When you went out, the hallway was lit by dim lights, illuminating only what needed to be seen. Buciy followed you out. He closed the door behind him so gently, that you can only hear a tiny click from the wooden frame.

"Friday," Bucky called the AI in the hallway, "If anyone asks, we're going on an early morning dri—"

"Whoa, what's going on here?" Sam asked groggily from the other end of the hall. He had a nearly empty glass of water in his hand, and he was wearing shorts and a shirt. You assumed he was thirsty and decided to go to the kitchen for water.

"We're going to Brooklyn Bridge," you manage to say quickly, before the silence became too suspicious. "To see the sunrise," you finished, a convincing tone in your voice.

Sam was still half asleep. You could tell by how he walked clumsily and how his eyes fluttered. You hoped this would give you an advantage. After a few tense seconds, he eventually let out a chuckle. "Alright," he shrugged lightheartedly, "You two lovebirds have fun."

You threw a smile and 'thank you' at Sam before hastily going the other way, pulling an impressed Bucky with you.

The two of you descended to the basement, slipping into a car. 

The car Bucky got was an Audi R8, sleek black like a stallion in the night, perfect to blend into the dark.

Driving out of the facility and into the streets of New York, Bucky glanced at you, a cheeky grin on his face. "Nice save back there," he told you.

Weakly, you let out a laugh. You sank back to the car seat, making yourself comfortable. You ignored his statement, taking it as playful, but pointless banter. “Where are we going, anyway?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I know where Nick Fury lived in New York. I know he’s not home either,” he told you, his metal arm gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes focused on the long, urban road ahead. There were only a few cars aside from you. So few, in fact, that you could count them with your fingers. It was an exceptionally empty early morning for New York standards.

“And?” You urged him to elaborate his point.

“He might have a file or two on his computer on Petrov,” Bucky confirmed. You looked at him curiously. “And would you like to tell me how you know?”

“Before he went to… wherever he is now, he told Sam and I about his computer servers on old SHIELD data, and since Hydra infiltrated SHIELD…”

You nodded. “Hydra and SHIELD are the same,” you concluded his sentence. You were mildly surprised that he had thought about the plan this far.

You watched the long city roads stretch out in front of you, dim city lamps like lighting bugs fluttering above you. It would've been romantic, given different circumstances. 

Bucky didn’t turn up the music, but you didn’t mind the soothing silence. In fact, you quite liked it. You liked the way the low hum of the engine and Bucky’s breathing was the only thing you could hear. It felt peaceful. You haven’t been able to feel serene in a while, and this was a nice change.

As you looked out the window, admiring the architecture of the concrete jungle, you felt Bucky’s hand snake into yours. You let him grip you palm and he took it up, pressing a firm kiss on the back of your hand. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he did that for reassurance. For comfort, for both you and him.

When you looked at him, you notice that he was wearing a silver chain around his neck. You recognized it. It was your dogtags. Knowing that he was wearing you sent a feeling of warmth in your chest. You had his, too, inside your bag in the avengers facility. You need to remind yourself to wear it next time.

"You know," Bucky muttered, eyes glinting with an idea, "What you said about going to the Brooklyn Bridge for sunrise…"

"What about that, hm?" You hummed in response. His hand was still holding yours, laid on his lap.

"We should actually do that some time," he suggested.

"I like the sound of that," you said. You rub small circles on his hand, giving him a feeling of tranquility. Bucky smiled, but it's too small for you to notice.

Before you knew it, he pulled up on a neighborhood in Newark, New Jersey. He parked a few blocks from the actual destination, just in case. The two of you walked out and on the concrete floor in silence, the early morning breeze stinging your skin, prickling like frost bites.

You had put on a baseball hat, and he threw his hood over his head carelessly and just enough to cover his face, just in case there were unsuspecting cameras. The two of you had put on gloves, too, to avoid fingerprint identification if anything went wrong. Oh god, you wish nothing will go wrong.

Nick Fury’s apartment was on Clinton Hill, an old building and in the third floor, a three minute walk from where Bucky parked. It was old, red bricks as the interior. The front door was dark wood, mosaics decorating the small window, making it not as bland as it would be without it. The staircase was the same color as the door, squeaking as you stepped on it. 

You’d say you were breaking in, but Bucky had a key, presumably the one Fury gave him, which lead you to ask yourself, is it really breaking in when the owner of the apartment gave you the key?

He slipped the rusted copper key in the hole and turned it. The door creaked open, and you slipped in.

Neither Bucky nor you wanted to turn on the lights. You didn't want to deal with the risk of dealing with suspicious civilians. Instead, you fished your phone from your back pocket and turned on the flashlight.

Dimly lit, his home was a simple studio too small to be a functional and strategic safehouse. As you looked around more you realized that you'd rather not describe it with the word 'home.' It felt cold. There was no personal touch whatsoever, nothing to make it feel homey. It was outdated by about thirty years, old kitchen and filing cabinets pinned against the peeling drywall. There wasn’t even a bed, just a dusty red couch that looked straight out of a retirement home. The only thing that was remotely modern was a windows computer on a small desk from the 2000s.

Like an instinct, you knew what to do. You let Bucky hold your phone for light, and you sat in front of the computer. Bucky followed behind you, watching it load slowly. You tried to crack the password, covered fingers dancing on the keyboard.

You didn’t know why, but your regular bypass technique did not work.

Of course it didn’t work, you thought to yourself, This is Nick Fury. He must have layers over layers of security and protection, even over this outdated computer.

Bucky cursed under his breath when he realized what was going on. Without a great hacker, getting inside this computer would take forever. You would have brought Scott Lang with you if you could. But that would mean your little secret wouldn't exclusively be yours anymore. It's not that you didn't trust him, it's just that you weren't willing to risk it.

Bucky started pacing around the room, a sign of distress. Suddenly, he noticed a creak on the floor. It was quiet, but both his and your supersoldier hearing could identify the sound. You glanced at him, knowing what he’s going to do. He kneeled down, taking the loose floorboard out. It was a small piece of wood, tiny, even, but what he saw under the hardwood floor was satisfactory. 

You saw him pull a roll of paper from under, and he passed it to you quickly, flicking it in the air and into your palm.

You unrolled it, and sure enough, it contained the binary code of the password, and translating it wouldn’t be too hard, since a custom software on your phone allowed you to do it quickly.

You entered the password, and you were in.

Bucky quickly inserted the USB. You started searching for Project Mercy, but frustratingly, nothing showed up. 

“Try searching ‘Michail Petrov,’” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. You did as you were told, and hit search. A few profiles appeared on the screen. 

Three people were named Michail Petrov in Hydra.

Bucky took a closer look on the screen, and on their photos. His eyes were suddenly fixed on the third photo in the list, jaw tightening at the sight of him. He pointed at the profile, then growled under his breath, “That’s him.”

You clicked on it, and windows of his history opened, flashing on the bright screen. Looking through it carefully, you tried to find a few keywords: lab, project, bioengineering.

As you scanned the files, your eyes found one word that you’d been searching.

Petrov graduated from Moscow State University in 1975 with a PhD in genetics. He began his bioengineering project by making lab-grown animals in his lab in Kaunas, Lithuania. His project was shut down in 1994, for ethical reasons.

Ethical reasons, you repeated in your head. If anything on here is about Project Mercy, it would be this one.

You searched the files for Kaunsas, Lithuania, and found the full address to his last known lab there.

You quickly moved that file and a few other important ones in the USB. 

As you ejected it, Bucky placed the roll of paper back in the floorboard. It looked untouched. 

You nodded as a sign that you were done, and you can go now.

Just as you and Bucky were going out the door, you heard footsteps from upstairs. Bucky held you back from the exit, waiting for the footsteps to pass. You knew, as long as you were quiet, everything would go according to plan. You and Bucky froze, waiting for whoever was out there to get out of the way.

As the footsteps neared, you heart dropped.

You phone suddenly rang, bells echoing throughout the room. Diego Miller’s name on your screen.

Damn SEAL protocol. The protocol that didn’t allow you to put your phone on silent, the one you unconsciously brought into your habit. You managed to turn it off just a second layer, but it was too late. You heard the voice of a woman call, “Hello? Is anyone in there?” 

There a was a fake courage laced in the woman's voice. She knew no one was supposed to be there, that it was an empty apartment. She knew the bells didn't belong there.

She carefully put down her basket of laundry and knocked on the door. Once, then twice. Nobody answered.

With trembling fingers, she pushed it open to find it unlocked. Looking around the empty apartment, she was both relieved and confused that she found nothing.

You and Bucky already jumped off the three-story building and disappeared into the dark.

The only evidence you left was an open window, curtains blowing in the morning breeze.

-

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker-Skip (1)

I don’t know if you’ve read the story about Skip and Peter? I read it a few weeks ago and I thought it would be cool to write something about it. Enjoy! This will be my new series; if you want to be tagged, let me now! I’ll post a new part (if this works) every Monday.

Plot: Peter’s new life couldn’t be better. College, aparment for himself, you. Still, Parker’s luck is not on his side, and the memories are coming back.

Warnings: it gets dark. Really dark, for Peter. Mentions of child abuse and rape. Angst, so much angst.

The sun was bright as Peter walked the sidewalk towards your new college, with his jacket thrown over his shoulder. He had managed to get out of class a few minutes earlier, even being the first day and all; so that he could pick you up and ask you about your day. A warm breeze combed through his hair, and birds flew around, chirping, both sure signs that summer was backing off and autumn was on its way. Peter worshipped its arrival, with its coldish weather and Halloween. You tucked on his side watching scary movies, planning awful pranks on the avengers together. He was smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

People around him chatted excitedly, and he saw the first students getting out of the building. A group of loud girls walked past him, and maybe in another place or time, he would have looked at them and blushed at their blanted looks. However, he had the most beautiful girl walking down the stairs in front of him, and he didn’t notice them.

You were easy to spot through the fence. The bright yellow blouse he had helped you to choose the previous night stuck out, hair pulled off your face with a high bun. Peter’s heart swelled with love when he noticed the small chain in your backpack, red and black with big white eyes. With a smile, Peter stepped up to meet you halfway, following the path that led to the front of your college.

“Hey”

Your head went up instantly after hearing his voice, and you saw a dorky looking Peter in front of you. He was wearing a white shirt with the first buttons undone, wanting to make a good impression in his own university. The backpack was hanging loosely from his side, and he was gripping one strap as if it was the first time he saw you.

“I, uh, I wanted to give you a surprise” he said, shifting his weight. “Got out early, thought you might like me picking you up. But I won’t do it again if-“

Peter was thrown a few inches forwards when your lips collided with him, arms around his neck and he chuckled softly. He felt your smile through the kiss, and the doubts about stepping over a boundary were long forgotten. The kiss lasted too little for his liking, and you were out of his arms in seconds.

You let out a excited giggle when you teared apart, jumping a little, happy to see your boyfriend’s face again. You were dying to tell him about your day, about your new classmates and hear about his.

“I want you to do this every day” you said, chin held high.

“Teachers won’t like that a lot” he laughed. “I had to get out early, but it was worthy”

Turning around, you gripped Peter’s hand and started telling him about your new classes. You were enthusiastic about the whole deal, and were almost bouncing with excitement; too busy to notice how Peter didn’t move an inch.

It felt as if the world stopped for him. The laugh got caught on his throat, it chocked him, it died, as Peter’s eyes landed on a man across the stairs. He was holding a big bag with papers, talking with another teacher he guessed while walking your way. His body went cold, and the air was filled with the smell of cheap aftershave and songs from cartoons. The group of girls that had been giving him eyes disappeared, you disappeared, and all that was left was Peter and a man with sandy hair.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in college, he was May’s apartment. He was watching cartoons and having cereals for breakfast. The disgusting smell of lemons filled his nostrils, and he could almost feel them. His hands, on his hips, on his chest, on his thighs. Peter crying, begging, so-

“Pete?” you pulled at his hands softly, wondering if he was even listening at you. You looked to where he had his wide eyes fixed, but only saw your Statistics teacher talking to the principal. “Bub, you okay?”

Peter blinked and shook his head, trying to put an smile for you. He took a deep breath and exhaled, looking away from the familiar man. Because that was it; he was just familiar, nothing else, nothing more. A look alike. It couldn’t be Skip, and his frenetic mind made a list of reasons; he moved far, far away. He wasn’t a teacher. His hair was longer. And, he couldn’t have been a whole day near you. Not there.

So, he just squeezed your hand and pulled you forward, almost dragging you out of the building.

“What was that?” you asked, frowning. You quickly forgot about your day or his. “Something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine. Fine. Just zoned out for a second” he said, words stepping over each other. “Do you want to Thai? I’ve seen a place near my university. Looks a bit shady, but-“

“Peter” you made him stop walking, and he finally looked at you.

In the middle of the busy streets, he felt much safer than in your university. Because he wouldn’t try anything in front of so many people; if he was Skip, which Peter didn’t want to believe. You looked at him worriedly, but he only grinned back. Placing both straps on his shoulders with rather shaky hands, he shrugged.

“Really, Y/N, is nothing. You know I tend to get lost in my head” he reassured you.

Of course, Peter Parker had a lot of years of practice in lying. He had lied to his aunt with the spiderman thing, and had tricked Mr Stark more than once when a patrol had gone too bad. And, well, even if he wasn’t proud of it, you didn’t find about his night activities until he decided to tell you. So it wasn’t difficult for him to make you believe that everything was alright, and start again the conversation about your classes.

Smiling again, you linked your arm with his and kissed his cheek, talking again about the first period. As you did so, Peter’s mind went back to the man. You walked to the Thai place; you ordered, waited for your food and Peter managed to tell you a little about his day without throwing up everything he had in his stomach. Because, the more he thought about him, the more similarities he found between Skip and him.

It was ridiculous.

He was far away, Peter was safe, you were safe, the world was safe without him. He had seen his car drive up the street with his little eyes, and May had assured him thousands of times when the nightmares came. Still, the thought kept ringing on his head for the whole lunch. When the dessert arrived, he decided to out and end to the anxiety.

“What are the names of your teachers?”

“Hm?” you asked, your mouth full of cream.

“You know the name of your teachers?” he repeated, swirling his spoon around the mint ice-cream that was making him sick.

“Hm, I suppose? I don’t know, I haven’t meet them all yet” you swallowed what you had in your mouth before talking again. “Why do you want to know?”

“I-I’ve heard there are common teachers between the colleges” Peter said, hoping you hadn’t noticed the stutter. “Just wanted to know if we might have one of those.”

“Oh, I didn’t know” you looked down at your cake, trying to remember some of the names. “There is-there is this woman called Mrs… Mrs Doubtfire.”

“What?” Peter squealed, and let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, I thought the same!” you smiled, and pointed the spoon towards him. “And she kind of looks like the one in the film. Only that is really old and doesn’t know how to smile”

“At least it’s not Umbridge” he joked, feeling a little better.

“I think it’s worse” you sighed, taking another spoonful of your dessert. You offered it to Peter with a quick glance, but he shook his head. “An older girl had told us that she is always breathing down your neck, and that if she sees you going out on a Friday night, she’ll take one point from you.”

“She made that up” Peter snorted. “Please, tell me she just made that up.”

“I wish I could, bub” you rolled your eyes. “But she’s not the only one that had told us. There is the guy whose class is tomorrow that says it’s true”

“Another teacher?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of… weird, though. Doesn’t give me a good feeling” you said, not really caring about your words.

The guy had approached you in the corridor when you were walking to the third period, with a girl you had just met. Even if for her it had been normal, you had noticed something off about the blonde man. You had blamed it to Peter, whose paranoia had made a space on your heart.

But, while you didn’t care about it, it made Peter’s heart skip a beat.

“And… um, what’s his name?” he asked. Peter took a small bite of his ice-cream. It melted on his tongue, but wasn’t as good as it should be. Surprisingly, it tasted like lemon, and Peter gagged.

“I don’t really remember. Last name is Westcott, but I don’t know more” Peter almost threw the spoon to the floor, but caught himself before doing anything to startle you. “He teaches Statistic, first class on Tuesdays. I’ve heard he… gives candy when you get a question right. I’m not fond of the idea. But who am I to judge? Guy might be a total teddy bear.”

You went back to eating your cake and the knot of Peter’s stomach tightened. He held onto the table, hoping that you wouldn’t notice the way his knuckles were turning white, and hoping that if he held on tight enough, he wouldn’t be ripping away from the planet while his thoughts spun out.

Closing his eyes, he counted. Opening his eyes, he searched for the five objects. A lady’s purple purse. Black sauce scattered on the floor. Big lamp a little crocked. The blue necklace you were wearing. Waiters’ uniform. You had taken his silence as the end of the conversation, and you were happy to eat your food in peace. Tears pooled in Peter’s eyes and he wiped them out quickly, not wanting you to see them. But you did.

“Are you crying?” you frowned, spoon mid-way to your mouth.

“No, no. It’s just-brain freeze” he chuckled, and sighed in relief when the alarm in your eyes disappeared.

“I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to order an ice-cream” you teased, winking at him. “Someone so hot can’t handle the cold”

He tried to smile for you, to force the memories away. But he only managed to give you a small smirk.

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

Peter waited until he heard your heartbeat slow and your breath go back to normal to roll out from the warm covers of your shared bed. Renting an apartment with you had seemed as the logical decision. You were dating, studying in the same city and didn’t have enough money to afford something bigger. Peter had been shaking with happiness when he opened for the first time the wardrobe and saw your clothes beside his. But, as the anxiety consumed him, he wished for his old apartment, where May slept like a baby and he could sneak out.

He slipped on a plan black sweater without a hood and dark jeans, putting back the boxers that he had thrown a few hours before under the bed, too focused on undressing you to care. Peter ran to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror; dishevelled head, red and swollen lips and bright eyes. However, they were not from the love making, but from the need of letting all of it out.

Angry and frustrated, Peter turned around and walked back to the bedroom; stopping when he saw you sleeping soundly on your side. You were hugging a pillow, probably missing his body next to you. Even if he didn’t want to say it out loud, Peter was always the little spoon when you two slept. It made him almost regret his decision, seeing you sleeping so peacefully. He really wanted to be back in your arms; but he also wanted to safe, above everything and anything.

So he sneaked out.

It wasn’t Spider-man problem. He wasn’t trying to stop some robbery, or save some lady from nasty guys. No, it was Peter Parker’s business. Skip Westcott was Peter’s business, and keeping you safe from the thing he feared the most was also. The suit didn’t come with him that night, only the web-shooters so he could be back into your arms sooner.

Peter had found Skip’s address hacking into the school’s website, and Google Maps directed his way into the night.

There was a playground at the end of the street where he lived, and as Peter walked past, the wind blew through the chains of the swing set. He stopped and stared at the park. Even in the dark, the memories came back. Hands. Touches. Begging. Moaning. Pain. Thrusts.

He moved past it and didn’t stop again until he stood in front of the white fence surrounding the blue house. A nice park was in the driveway, and the yard had some flowers growing. No one would ever be able to tell what kind of person lived there.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tom Tags:

@delicately-important-trash

[sockparade]

tips for surviving the pandemic: things i learned from my immigrant parents

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since the WHO announced that the coronavirus (COVID-19) was officially a pandemic. This has been a long, challenging week for a lot of people and it is nothing short of terrifying to read reports of what is happening in Asia and Europe as many predict that we’ll likely endure a similar fate here in the United States. In the midst of all of this chaos and uncertainty, I’ve been reminded of so many lessons that my Taiwanese immigrant parents taught me. I’m sharing them here so that others might also benefit. Thanks Ma. Thanks Daddy.

你昨天已經出去了.

“You already went out yesterday.“

1. Learn how to stay home. Our family is eight days into self-isolating at home and Tony asked me this morning if I had cabin fever. And strangely, the answer is no. I’m not. Not to downplay the difficulty of this moment but my experience with this “shelter-in-place” ordinance reminds of pretty much all my summers between kindergarten and 8th grade. Both of my parents worked full-time so summer was just three blissful months of nothing. No structure, no plans, no camps, no playdates, and no responsibilities. My parents never made me feel like I was missing a thing by staying home and I don’t remember ever feeling bored. There were always library books to read, stories to write, and thoughts to journal. Hours were spent playing school with my big sister (now a first grade teacher!), making up random games like who can avoid touching the carpet longest, learning Kim Zmeskal’s latest gymnastics floor routine, writing lyrics to Kenny G saxophone solos, and rehearsing for our variety show that we would perform to our tired parents at the end of the day. And that’s not even including the hours we spent watching The Price is Right, CHIPS, Knight Rider, and Airwolf (yep, no cable).   

As a teenager I carefully plotted all my hangouts with friends so that I didn’t have too many consecutive days when I was out of the house. Whenever I asked my parents if I could hang out with friends, they would always say, “But you already went out yesterday. What’s wrong with staying home? Why do you always have to go out?” It was as if having too much fun two days in a row was off limits. If there was a big party on Friday, I would purposely make sure I stayed home Wednesday and Thursday just to increase the chances of being able to go out on Friday. I know a lot of people talk about how awful their high school years were but I was one of those lucky kids who had a really great group of friends that made me feel seen, loved, and cared for. The downside was that I couldn’t get enough of it. I was always thinking about the next hangout, the next event, the next thing. It took me all the way until my late twenties to fully appreciate the fine art of staying home and to finish my unexpected transformation into the expert homebody that I am today. 

I’m reminded of that old quote by Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." 

It’s great to be out and about, but it’s also really important to learn how to stay home.  

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晚上要吃什麼？清冰箱.

“What are we eating for dinner?” “Cleaning the fridge.”

2. Be creative with what you have. I love food. Not in a foodie sense, but I get a lot of pleasure out of eating. I’m not a food snob by any stretch of the imagination. I thoroughly enjoy a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as much as I enjoy a fancy, inventive, Michelin-starred meal at Commis. What’s hard for me is when food is eaten as sustenance rather than with delight. But my parents taught me that you can always take pride in preparing a meal. No matter your ingredients.

My mom is an excellent cook. I know a lot of people think their mom is a good cook but my mom is legitimately skilled in the kitchen. There were some nights when I’d ask what was for dinner and my mom would just reply, “Cleaning the fridge.” 

Now for some, this might sound terrifying. But my mom could honestly make something out of nothing. I still crave my dad’s simple egg and garlic fried rice. My parents raised me to be able to make an tasty meal just from rummaging in the pantry and fridge for random leftover things. There were plenty of summers where lunches and snacks were an individual culinary adventure for each of us kids. I still remember the day I witnessed my baby sister add a Kraft single on top of her onion ramen noodles. She saw my confusion, shrugged and said, “You should try it, it’s good.” 

With all the hoarding folks have been doing during this pandemic, I’ve found myself feeling quite anxious. Trying to calculate if we have enough food. Estimating how many more meals we can eat at home before we need to make another grocery run. As someone who struggles with a scarcity mentality it has been hard not to panic. But then I keep reminding myself that I know how to make good food using just whatever’s available. 

You know, I was pretty disappointed with Mary H.K. Choi’s second novel, Permanent Record, given how much I enjoyed her debut novel, Emergency Contact. But I was absolutely thrilled with the shine she gave to what her protagonist calls “Hot Snacks”.

Here’s an excerpt from Permanent Record that is a beautiful ode to creative food mashups and immigrant kids everywhere: 

“I edit and post a Shin Ramyun Black video set to music. My favorite instant noodles with three flavor packets and so much garlic. It’s a classic Korean HotSnack, especially when you throw in cut-up hot dogs, frozen dumplings, extra kimchi - and this is where the artistry comes in- eggs, cheese, corn from a can, and a drizzle of sesame oil on top. And furikake if you’re feeling wealthy. The next night I put up a bacon, egg, and cheese not in a bagel but in a glazed honey bun. Laced with sriracha and pan fried on the outside. Then it’s chilaquiles with Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chorizo. Jamaican beef patty casserole disrespected with a smothering of Japanese curry and broiled. With Crystal Hot Sauce over the top and pickled banana peppers. I’m trolling with that one but the controversy is berserk. When I run out of old videos, I make saag paneer naanchos with Trader Joe’s frozen Indian food, and it’s a hit. Especially when I add yogurt and a thick layer of crushed-up Takis on top.”

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看連續劇.

“Watch soap operas.” 

3. Find a way to escape. I’m generally pro technology but I��ll admit I’m a little bummed at the way iPhones and iPads have made TV viewing such an individual activity. I like how Disney+ has gotten some families back to watching TV together again. Although I will say, we really coddle our kids these days. I grew up in a time when movie ratings only applied in the theaters and we watched movies with our families like Alien, The Fly, and Gremlins. We were scared out of our minds and sometimes could only watch through the cracks between our fingers covering our eyes because it was so scary. Okay, this also might be why I can’t watch horror movies as an adult. 

From a young age, my parents taught me that watching other people’s drama unfold on screen is one of the best way to escape your own drama. Some people say binge watching became a thing when the TV networks started releasing shows on DVD. Others give credit to Netflix releasing their original content a whole season at a time. But truth be told, I first learned how to binge watch from my parents. 

We would rent 30-40 VHS cassette tapes from that random spot in Bellaire Chinatown. Can you picture it? You needed multiple plastic bags to transport that many VHS tapes. 

Do you remember the one about the dying mother who needed to find homes for each of her 7 children? I don’t think it’s normal for a 10 year old to cry so much but you better believe it’s made me learn the true value of a soap opera escape hatch. 

Are you in a pandemic? Now’s the perfect time to pick up that YA novel, binge that reality show, start that kdrama, or rewatch all six seasons of The Sopranos again.

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下個禮拜會下雨.

“It’s going to rain next week.”

4. Be informed about what’s ahead. If you ask either of my parents about the weather at any given time they can reliably tell you the daily percent chance of precipitation and humidity for at least seven days out. They’ve always been this way. They would inform me of the weather at various points throughout the week. They planned their yard work and car washes around the weather forecast. There’s something about the way the weather forecast is available to everyone. And it feels like it’s just a matter of making the small extra effort to access it and gain a slight advantage. I feel like so much of the immigrant mentality is to be diligent in making the right choices to not screw yourself over and seizing opportunities whenever you can. And it wasn’t just weather but this is such an obvious example of it. 

I remember my dad saying to me once, "Can you imagine if someone decided to read every book in their local library? If they just went shelf by shelf and systematically read all the books? You could do it, you know. It’s free, it doesn’t cost any money to check out a book from the library. But no one really does it.” 

I think immigrant parents get a bad reputation for forwarding chain letters and health/science hoaxes they get on email, WeChat and Line. And in a pandemic, yes, they are definitely susceptible to misinformation, rumors and flat out untruths. But the thought behind it seems right. 

The mistrust of government leadership is actually quite relevant right now in this pandemic. Many immigrants left countries with governments that were overtly corrupt, oppressive, and used propaganda to influence its citizens. And while many Americans still take pride in living in a country that verbally champions freedom and democracy, the truth is that our government has already failed us and lied to us in many ways. During this pandemic, we cannot wait on leaders to tell us what to do. We must be diligent in reading for ourselves, seeking experts, using our critical thinking skills, and making preparations accordingly.

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會不會冷?

“Are you cold?” 

5. Check in with yourself. Check in with others. I have so many memories of my parents walking through the living room and asking me and my sisters if we were cold. It felt like they couldn’t walk past the thermostat without asking us if they needed to raise it or lower it. As if they couldn’t hear us sneeze and wonder if they needed to turn off the ceiling fan. They couldn’t see us sitting in a dim room without turning on a light for us. There are so many times I fell asleep reading on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me. Or sometimes I was fully awake doing something random, like playing Egyptian Rat Screw with my sisters (a cardgame for the uninitiated), and my mom would walk by and wordlessly drop a warm, heavy blanket over my shoulders. That’s care, y’all. Consistent, immediate action, and often without words.  

The tip here is to pay attention to your discomfort during a pandemic. There’s this immigrant stereotype of stoicism and that’s true to some degree but maybe the resilience is made possible not because of unnatural toughness but largely because immigrant parents can also be so incredibly perceptive and tender in some very tangible ways. 

When everything is chaotic around you and you’re busy multitasking these next few months, don’t ignore your needs. Notice how you’re feeling. Physically and emotionally. Where are you carrying your stress and tension in your body? You don’t have to tough it out. Oh and remember to check in with your people on how they’re feeling. Is there a light switch you can turn on for someone? 

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笑死人.

“Laugh to death.” 

6. Laugh to survive. Look, we didn’t have the perfect family or anything like that. We’ve definitely had our share of difficult times, financial stress, health issues, arguments, and pain. But my parents also really knew how to laugh and taught us to laugh with abandon. Like, bent over, tears running out of your eyes, can’t breathe kind of laughing. Our dinner table was kind of like a writer’s room. It was difficult to tell a mediocre story. You had better come prepared with a punchline or a point. It was a tough crowd, every night. On many occasions I stopped myself halfway through a story upon the self-realization that there was no real way to land the plane. Polite laughs were nowhere to be found, except perhaps a charitable smile from my baby sister. But it didn’t stop us from trying. I think my sisters and I are all probably better storytellers for it and we definitely have learned to try to bring humor into difficult times.  

I know that this pandemic is so incredibly dark and depressing that it can sometimes feel disrespectful, inappropriate, or childish to laugh at anything. But my parents taught me that you laugh to survive. Nothing is ever so dark that you can’t find a reason to laugh. And sometimes you really need to find something to laugh about.

I’ve been taking long breaks each day from major media news outlets but I have been finding such joy and laughter from the meme creators on IG and the comedic geniuses on Twitter. In Taiwanese when something’s really funny, people will say a phrase that is imperfectly translated as laugh to death. Like you killed a person it was so funny. Now’s the time to find that content or those people who will get you to laugh to death. 

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我要去挪車.

“I’m going to go re-park the cars.” 

7. Go to bed with a plan for the next morning. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas where one property developer built the entire neighborhood and used the same eight or nine floor plans for all the houses but changed up the brick and trim color to keep things interesting. Most homes have a long driveway that connects a garage set near the backdoor of a home to the street. By the time I was driving, we had four cars in total -- two in the garage and two on the driveway. At the end of the day when everyone was home for the night and my dad was getting ready to go to bed, he’d announce, “I’m going to go re-park the cars.” Then we’d all kind of stop what we were doing and rearrange the order of the cars to match our morning departure schedules. This meant figuring out who was leaving when in the morning and sometimes also prompted brief check-in conversations about any changes in our usual routine. 

In a pandemic it can sometimes feel like there are a million different things to attend to and large conceptual concerns that demand your attention. But there’s something calming and centering about spending a few minutes each night thinking through specifically what needs to happen just tomorrow. Not the day after or next week. Get super tactical and specific about what tomorrow morning looks like. Check-in with your partner about any aberrations to your schedule (e.g. I have a super important conference call at 7am tomorrow) to minimize any unnecessary surprises. There’s something magical about setting up your morning that helps you rest just a little easier at night. 

______________________________________________

星期三我們有禱告會.

“On Wednesdays we have prayer meeting.”

8. Make time for your spirituality. Growing up my parents both had physically demanding jobs. My mom was a seamstress for many years, providing alterations at my aunt and uncle’s dry cleaners. She later worked in an elementary school cafeteria and then eventually became a classroom aide for special needs students. My dad worked at that same dry cleaners for years until he got a job at the post office. He then became a letter carrier, delivering mail on foot. The summer months were especially grueling, carrying a heavy sack of mail in 100 degree, humid weather, and walking until sweat soaked his shirts and blisters formed on his feet. They had every excuse to skip weeknight events. But unless they were sick in bed, I can’t remember a time when they missed their weekly prayer meeting with their friends from church.  

Pandemics have an unsettling way of forcing us to confront our mortality and can trigger a bunch of unresolved shit that has been bubbling underneath the surface. We’ve lost some of our usual coping mechanisms and it can be super hard to quiet the anxieties, fears, and other demons that we usually try to keep under control. This isn’t a lecture about a particular faith or belief system. It’s just a reminder to prioritize your existential questions, your interior life, and your connection to things much bigger than yourself -- whether that’s a community, a yoga practice, a faith group, a tradition, or something else. 

I have a fledgling meditation practice that I’ve been trying to strengthen since last year. When I say fledgling I mean that sometimes I bail before the ten minutes is up and check my phone. Even though I’m not very good at it yet, I can really tell the difference on the days that I make time for it. Our church started hosting its weekly Sunday service online and that’s challenging for me because a church service feels like it’s designed to be so much about the physical rhythm of going to a place, seeing faces of people I love, hearing their voices co-mingling with mine in song and in prayer, and tasting the bread and wine in my mouth. The online service was short, and just for viewing through a zoom conference call, but there was still something meaningful about setting aside that time Sunday morning, asking our wiggly kids to be present, and saying the liturgy out loud knowing that in homes all across the country, other people are doing the same. 

If things are really going to get as bad as some are predicting, we’ll need the spiritual strength to make it to the other side. Those habits are hard to form overnight. My parents taught me that you really have to make the time for your spirituality non-negotiable, so that you won’t abandon it when it’s inconvenient or when you are too tired.    

______________________________________________

沒辦法.

“What choice do we have?” 

9. Rise to the occasion. Whenever my parents are telling old war stories about things they had to do to get to where they are today, inevitably one of us will say, “Man that’s crazy, how did you manage to do it?” And instead of pointing to some super personality trait of theirs or some complex self-help principle, they always say, “We had no choice.” It’s not said in a defeated way, but in a posture of accepting that life can be cruel, unfair, and capricious. And that it’s not helpful to dwell too long on the why’s and how’s. My parents taught me that you can’t stay in despair mode. You eventually have to push yourself into problem solving mode and you do whatever it takes to move forward.  

This coronavirus is so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime. It is so unprecedented for me that my brain is having a hard time processing the reality of what’s happening right now and the rest of my lived experience. I spent the first few days of this week just being overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and irritable. At this point though, I’m in go mode. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family and taking care of business. What choice do we have? I can hear my parents saying it. One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll say it to our kids too. 

[ladytesla]

My drunk parents’ interpretation of The Arcana Main 6

Anything in parentheses was said by me.  Inspired by a post in which OP’s friend was given pics without any other information (link me so I can give credit), I decided to try it on my 60 year old mom and stepdad the other night.  I only gave them the pictures and told them to tell me their names and whatever else they wanted to about them.  Enjoy.  I sure as hell did.

Mom- Um, his name’s Caesar.  he’s a snake charmer? [note: the art I showed her had Faust in it too]  Basically he’s one-eyed? Very fit.  He’s a, um, boyish man.  He’s gay. I don’t know.

Pops- I think he’s a deadly assassin and he’s also a homosexual. (what’s his name?) Sensational Pal. He has a penchant for purple and violet colors.

Mom- Ok, Michael Jackson.  DON’T YOU DARE PUT THAT.  NO.  He has a big black cape and skinny legs.  He looks like Michael Jackson.  He’s definitely a bad guy.  He is angry.  He is trying to be powerful, and he wants to be the leader.  But apparently his name is Julian (You looked at the image description!).   (He’s actually a good guy AND he’s a doctor) why?  Do I see that anywhere on this?  No.

Pops- I think it’s a girl.  She’s a badass.  She’s a deadly assassin.  Terrible. One of the worst of all.  Cannot be trusted.  She’s really not missing an eye, she’s only wearing the eyepatch to mislead you.  Her name is Black Mamba—(It’s a guy) His name is Black Mamba.

Mom- Let’s go with, uh.  She’s definitely a queen, or a spirit of some sort that has power.  Let’s go with Aphrodite.  Lot of purple.  She’s powerful because she has a very strong gaze and a stance that looks powerful. Nadia’s a bad guy.

Pops- She works in a daycare center and she excels in making lunch, primarily tomato soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  Her boyfriend’s name is Phillip and he works over at Pep Boys. Her name’s Sam.

Mom- Her name is Ginger.  She’s sassy, manipulative because she might have a dagger in her waistband.  She looks so, uh, inquisitive?  She gets a lot of information without really trying.  She can be good or bad depending on what she needs to do.

Pops-Her name is Fauve.  Um. She works at Hot Topic and uh she doesn’t, she’s not registered to vote, she has no idea who the president is, she doesn’t know who the vice president is, she’s not sure if she’s actually graduated from high school, she’s a complete and total airhead.  Her boyfriend’s name is Phillip and he’s also dating a girl named Sam.  She doesn’t know that.  She’s the easy piece.  I shouldn’t have said that.  That wasn’t very nice.

Mom- He’s very evil.  He’s very strong.  Um.  His name is Dagmar.  I first thought of Morpheus.  He’s in chains because, but they’re broken chains, so he was a prisoner so he’s broken away.  He wants to gain power but he’s not sure how yet.  (His name is Muriel) That’s a dumb name.  (He lives in the forest) HE DOESN”T HAVE MOSS ON HIM HE CAN’T LIVE IN THE FOREST.

Pops-I think his name’s, uh, his name is Lars.  He’s a bad mutha.  Been in lockup several times.  He don’t take no shit from anybody.  He’ll kick your ass.  You want him on your side because he’s a bad mutha.  His name’s Lars.  His dad was actually, uh, worked for, was a mercenary in the Congo in the 60s. Kicked the ass of the belgiums [sp]. He was beheaded and his ghost still walks this earth carrying a machine gun and he’ll fuck you up (His name is Muriel) What kind of a – that ain’t a manly name at all.  They used to make cigars named Muriel when I was a kid.

Mom –*laughter* His name is Flash Gordon.  He’s a prettyboy.  He apparently is pretty wealthy.  He’s got many medals that he probably hadn’t even won.  Since he’s all white he’s never fought anyone because he’s never gotten his suit dirty.  He’s hoping to keep his status and other people will fight for him because he doesn’t want to fight for himself. (He got that arm lopped off in battle) No no no. He got between a sword and something, but it had nothing to do with battle.  His face is still intact.  (Look at his eyes, what do you think?)  Maybe he’s a devil child?

Pops-His name is Anastasia.  That’s all I know about him.  (Anything else?)  He’s a snappy dresser and he never misses a Black Friday and he likes to eat breakfast at La Madeline.  He’s a girly man.

[fuck-customers]

This is a Fuck My Store Manager post. It's kinda long, so I apologize for the length but Black Friday weekend is coming up and I need to vent before I have even more to complain about.

I work at the pet store chain that rhymes with BetShmo, and I only applied/got hired because I (1) am a professional dog trainer outside of the store and (2) I used to know the stock manager from junior high & high school swim team. She put a good word in with her manager and I didn't even interview for the position. The downside is that after I got hired I figured out pretty quickly that I didn't want to teach the company's watered down, bullshit "training" classes and told my manager this. She said it was okay and "let me" stay on as a cashier. I'm on the autistic spectrum so I suffer from anxiety, a sensory processing disorder, and some days I'm not super great at interacting with people, plus I have a hard time hearing the customers when the store gets busy. My store manager, the assistant manager, and -- pretty much everyone I work with -- knows this. I'm not private about it, and no one really cares/treats me differently because of it. Except for her.

After the whole situation where I mentioned to her that I don't wanna be a dog trainer, she has been treating me differently.

The very first thing I hate about being "only a cashier" is that there's a definite line of shelves that denote the front of the store from the middle of the store. Cashiers are told that in order to not leave any customers waiting that they need to stay behind the front of those shelves (in front of small animals, and stay in the leashes/toys for dogs section). The reason I hate this is because the bathrooms are back behind the small animals section, and no matter how often I may call for "backup" when no one is at the register -- depending on who the manager is at the time -- I may have to "hold it" and not be able to go to the bathroom for an entire shift. It's gotten better since I switched to being only a cashier (because a majority of the managers like me now), but I used to have to wait to use the bathroom on my "10" if I even got one that day. Now that we have better supporting/shift managers that like me I can go multiple times in a shift as long as I'm fast and more people answer my call for "backup."

I've been working there since the beginning of the summer, and I told my store manager I can't work on Sundays because of "religious observance," (really just want to be able to have family dinner every week at my parent's house, but work doesn't need to know that), but instead of just finding another person to cover the closing shift on Sundays, she said to me "We work in retail. It's unrealistic to expect to have ANY weekends off." When the only other cashier at the time got weekends off pretty consistently. Like I'm talking she was only working Friday mornings and having Saturdays/Sundays off which is wildly out of the norm for any other retail jobs I've ever worked. Especially for a cashier.

That same cashier -- we'll call her Chelsea -- has some mental health issues going on and has been moody/rude since she dropped out of college in the Spring. Like I'm not judging, we all have issues and she's getting help for her's finally, but during the time when she was not on medication/seeing a professional, she requested to "make a statement" about me and one little misunderstanding between us (her being asked by a different manager to recover the small animals section at the same time I was asked to and said I was slacking/not doing my job and just following her around the store) blew up into a whole 6 page report of blatant lies that resulted in me getting called to the office and almost written up within the first month of working there before I had the chance to defend myself. For some reason after that, my store manager decided she likes Chelsea more than she likes me and PROMOTED HER TO STOCK MANAGER EVEN THOUGH SOME OF THE THINGS SHE SAID SHOULD'VE RESULTED IN SUSPENSION. Chelsea still gets better hours than me and my store manager still likes her better.

In the last two months my store manager has hired four new cashiers, and out of all four of them only one of them isn't long-time best friends with her daughter -- that I know of. One of these new cashiers spends a ton of time on her phone and I only care about this because I get yelled at all of the time for "being on my phone" (ie when the store is dead I will text my boyfriend back or check Facebook for a few minutes) when she doesn't! But when I even so much as LOOK at my phone to check the time (depending on where you're at in the store, the clocks are all between 10 and 30 minutes fast or slow) I get told if I pull my phone out one more time I will be fired on the spot. That's a real thing that happened one weekend, and she told me that if she has to keep reminding me to keep my phone put away then she's going to take it from me and fire me??? Like we're not in middle school, bitch. You can't just take my phone from me.

The four or five new people she's hired in the last two months are all hired as "cashiers" but because they're best friends with her daughters, they get to pick their hours -- to the point where if one of them has a dentist appointment or something that conflicts with how they were scheduled, the store manager goes in and manually changes their schedule even if it's the WEEK OF. I have had several conflicts with doctor's appointments etc and she's always told me I have to find my own cover for my shift. These cashiers are also all allowed to be on an entire 6-7 hour shift doing recovery or helping with the stock room, but I only get scheduled to be on the register even though I have a disability and can't handle it some days. And because my managers know about it, I can say to them "Hey I'm not feeling it today, can I switch with someone who is doing recovery? And only one manager tries to live up to that promise at all. (Like in the middle of the 1-2 o'clock rush on a Saturday I've broken down into tears and a panic attack and had to take my ten and go back to the register.) Even after this, she doesn't schedule me differently. Oh, and because we have so many cashiers now -- EVEN THOUGH I'M THE SENIOR CASHIER AT THIS POINT -- I get the sloppy seconds of everyone's hours. I'm talking MAYBE 3x 5-hour shifts all over the weekend with ALL WEEK off, while the other cashiers get long morning shifts and can request weekends off willy-nilly. For the last month and a half, I've had Monday-Thursday off even though I've mentioned that I need more hours to just make rent, let alone other expenses. So that's fun and fresh.

This same manager hired a new "Fish Specialist" behind the old "Fish Specialist"'s back and then MADE HER TRAIN HIM. The upside to this is that the new Fish Specialist is pretty cool and likes me well-enough, so I get to go back there and he teaches me stuff about being a Fish Specialist. Although I've never gotten scheduled back there, despite knowing almost as much as the head of the department. Why you might ask? Yep, because my store manager hates me and doesn't let me move from the register.

But there is a happy ending to this story. I heard from our dog training specialist that our store manager was going to be promoted to higher management at the beginning of next year, and I have yet to find an employee that isn't excited about it. And recently I heard she's getting promoted at the end of this year, like before New Year's and I couldn't be more excited. Fuck her.

[jawnjendes]

don’t want your hand this time | shawn mendes

chapter 1/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: i know i know i posted a thing yesterday but UUUHHHHH im just tryna get to the saucy parts of this bc SOMEBODY decided to be all hot n sexy in a certain music video ANYWAY this is just an intro chapter of sorts and we are introducing some new characters!! lmk your thoughts thots!

***let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

When Annalise Flores has shit to do within a time limit, she forgets about everything else. Her phone goes on silent, she ignores her other obligations, and she makes sure to get whatever is in her focus done. This has proven to be disastrous in the past, like when Annalise just needed to clean the entire dorm before starting any homework assignment was due the next day. Or when she reorganized the filing closet at the dealership before adding up the gas receipts she was ordered to do. You get the idea.

Annalise was very determined to get all of her unopened boxes, and her clothes to fit in her tiny, beat up car so she didn't have to make multiple trips, given how far campus is from Shawn's apartment. He promised he would help her move when he got home, he had that huge Jeep after all, but Annalise was way too antsy. Besides, they already fought about this, and she didn't want to start anything all over again. She didn't want him to feel obligated to help if only one of them was into the idea of her moving out.

After pushing on the car door three times, it finally clicked shut. Annalise successfully managed to stuff all of her clothes and half her boxes into the backseat. The rest of the boxes were in the trunk. The windows were all covered, so maybe she wouldn't be able to see her blind spots, but at least Annalise wouldn't have to make a second trip. She silently thanked the Tetris gods for blessing her with the appropriate skills as she went back up to the apartment.

Shawn's living space didn't look that different with all of Annalise's belongings out. Most of it was all stashed into the "recording" room over the summer, and neither of them spent any time in there. There was more space in the closet now, too. It was no longer just a black abyss, and all of Shawn's belongings were now undisturbed. Annalise debated smuggling out his black Nike hoodie, but given the circumstances it was best to leave everything as it was. The apartment didn't look any different really, but Annalise still felt an ache from her throat down to the bottom of her feet as she removed the spare key from her chain and left it on the glass dining table. This was easier than saying goodbye to him in person.

~

Campus was nowhere near as quiet and lonely as the apartment. Students were running around like headless chickens, trying to locate buildings, schedules, and friends. She already had a key to her dorm, so she parked near her building and carried her backpack and two boxes up the walkway. Annalise's resting bitch face and the clunk of her boots on the ground gave her less of a struggle to push past other students. Weak and fragile as she was these last couple of months, she's still got it.

The dorm building wasn't too far from the last one she lived in, but it was going to be a bitch getting to her classes. Maybe she should invest in a bike… or she should get her shit together and take the bus.

Annalise's new dorm was on the third floor, and it was furnished. Weird, yes, but she was not going to complain. It was a bit smaller, but not cramped. There was a tiny hallway between the two bedrooms, and one cramped bathroom. She noticed one room already had boxes sitting on the floor, and she couldn't help but get just a little excited. Stella hadn't completely abandoned her. Annalise wasn't even mad about their three month long silence, she was just happy that she would be seeing a familiar face.

She didn't run into Stella at all during the multiple trips she took bringing all her stuff in. Annalise knew she was here, though. Her perfume scent was always left behind in any room she had been in, and Annalise definitely caught the scent in the dorm. The same amount of boxes were still in her room by the time Annalise finished bringing all of her's in. She figured she could have texted Stella, but she kind of wanted to surprise her… even though they both knew about the other.

She checked her phone anyway. The only text she had was from Shawn.

"How come you didn't wait for me?"

Pursing her lips and smudging the signature black lipstick, Annalise cleared the notification and went to sit in the armchair in the living room. She was way too tired to try to reason with him. She certainly couldn’t jump into the "I miss you" crap so quickly either. She didn't want to, but Shawn obviously did when he sent another text. Out of sheer habit, Annalise opened the notification instead of clearing it, and she cursed under her breath.

"You've been gone only a few hours and this place already feels so sad and empty. Why did you leave your key?"

Yeah, she left him on read. She didn't know what else to say to him.

Thankfully, the lock on the door jiggled and in came Stella carrying a large cardboard box. She gasped and her hazel eyes lit up when she saw her dark natured roommate. She quickly squatted down and set the box on the floor before coming at Annalise with open arms.

"Mi esposa hermosa!"

Annalise will never say this out loud, but Stella gives wonderful hugs. They two girls haven't seen each other in over three months, so getting a nice tight hug was something that was really needed. They rocked from side to side, giggling at the motions. It was like nothing had really changed.

"When did I become your wife?" Annalise asked, amused as she leaned back to look at her.

"When we decided to live together for the third year in a row!" Stella replied. “Oh you got a little…” Her thumb rubbed under Annalise’s lip, showing her the black.

“The struggles of being goth,” she joked.

Stella giggled, and then the rambling began. "How are you? I'm so sorry we didn't talk much over the summer. Did you stay with Shawn the whole summer? Oh, is he here?" She bounced on her feet, looking around the dorm.

"Uh yeah, I did stay with him the entire time," she told her. "And no, he's not here. He's working."

Annalise knew he wasn't. He had found her abandoned key, which meant he was home. And he was probably sulking. And he was going to sleep alone...

"But he'll be here later, right?" Stella asked, nudging her arm. "Y'all are gonna christen your room, eh?"

She really had to ask, didn't she? She really had to jokingly ask a question that would change the expression on Annalise's face, thus warning her of the things that had happened. She wasn't sure why she kept an obviously fake smile on her face as she silently stared at her roommate. The silence alone wasn't enough, apparently.

Normally, Stella would dramatically gasp, sit her down, and ask Annalise to spill every detail. Instead, she sighed.

"Fill me in while you help me bring my stuff up."

~

Classes and club meetings resumed within the next couple of days, so it gave Annalise plenty of excuses to keep her texts to Shawn dismissive and short. She knew he was coming and going from campus for class too, but due to their different majors, he was going to be very far away from her. Not to mention, he didn't know where her new dorm was located, so it wasn't like he could track her down.

Except… Annalise had to retake biology. She knew Shawn was at the science building quite often, and she had hoped her bio lab fell on a day that he was at the fine arts building. But you know, life just happens, and sometimes you see your mans between classes. Sometimes you just see him leaving classroom, towering over the other students because he’s a giant. Maybe you’ll see him with a very short girl at his side, and they’re both laughing at something. Maybe he won’t see you either because he’s balls deep in banter with this random girl.

There was a lump in Annalise’s stomach following that minor event, and it made her anxious and uneasy for the first day of that class. Still, she was determined to stay on board with the separation they both agreed on. It was better that way for now. She didn't know about Shawn, but Annalise fully intended on keeping the distance, suspicious-looking friends be damned.

Anyway, she could find friends of her own too. Gaming club meetings started up again that Friday, and it was something to look forward to. After god knows how long, Annalise attended said meeting after receiving an email from the head of the club, Josh. He and his friend, Paul, ran the club most of the time. They managed to get plenty of people to sign up during the rush earlier in the week but only seven of them actually attended the first meeting. Just like every year.

Both Josh and Paul were scrawny blond boys with "nice guy" complexes. They were polite for the most part, given that they inducted Annalise into the club the moment she signed up. But they also quizzed her on just about every popular, mainstream video game there was once they realized she would actually be showing up to the meetings. It took time, and a bit of Annalise telling them off, but they were civil towards each other now.

"Annalise!" called Chad as the lady herself entered the classroom in the communications building. He was another member, and he had his two frat bros with him, Kyle and Jared, and they both chanted her name in their deep, manly voices.

All different heights, but same amount of insane muscle. For lack of better words, these guys were meatheads with good intentions. Chad was a student with one of the highest GPA on campus, practically competing with Josh. Kyle was the star student in his major, sports medicine. Jared was that guy who beat up bigots as a hobby. All three of them were fully dedicated to their fraternity, Sigma Chi.

Then there was Patrick, who nodded to Annalise as a greeting. She nodded back and took the empty seat next to him in the circle.

The people who think Annalise Flores is a complete hardcore goth have not met Patrick Markowski. This was a guy who was always decked out in leather, ripped jeans, and black eyeliner. He had a proper faux hawk, which is what made people notice him the most. He typically surrounded himself with other goths, unlike Annalise. He was truly dedicated to the lifestyle, while she deviated from even that sometimes. This was the only guy in the club Annalise was actually friends with.

Anyway, all seven of these nerds shared the same appreciation for video games, which brought them all together in a circle, in an empty classroom, in the communications building this evening. However, Annalise's entrance caused the guys to deviate from the main topic.

Josh and Paul had been staring at her with their mouths open the second she entered the room. The Frats were visibly excited and each gave her a high five. Patrick merely stayed quiet and smiled.

"Heard you almost fucking died!" Chad told her. "And you didn't tell a single one of us!"

"I thought you had actually died," Josh spoke up. "Since you never miss a meeting and all."

So that got around. Cool.

“I wasn’t dying,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes. “I just had part of my colon surgically removed.”

“No way…” Jared said in wonder.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” said Paul with a gag. He brought the collar of his red Pizza Planet shirt over his mouth.

The Frats stared at Annalise in awe, almost impressed by her vague explanation. She really didn’t understand the fascination, given everything that happened during and after the hospital. Of course, they knew nothing about any of that. At the same time, Annalise was annoyed at Paul’s dramatic reaction, so she kept talking.

“It might happen to you too if you don’t take care of yourself and listen to your body,” she told him. “Or worse, you could end up with a bag of your poop attached to your belly.”

Paul gagged again, much louder this time. Then Annalise decided that that was enough and directed the conversation to the club’s main topic: video games.

“So who’s played Team Sonic Racing?”

It was only the first meeting, so the group made a plan to bring their Switches and play next time. The Nice Guys prompted to play a round of Fortnite online later, but Annalise was not up for that game in the slightest. Too mainstream. Too chaotic. She never could get into it.

“Well, we can play without you,” Paul suggested, “not everyone has to join in.”

“Isn’t that a rule, though?” Patrick asked pointedly. “If we’re gonna play something together, we all have to agree on one game. Besides, I don’t play Fortnite either.”

Paul's eyes darted around, trying to look for a counterargument, but he sighed. “Fine. Anyone else got any suggestions?”

“What about a D&D campaign?” Annalise said. “Or some type of board game?”

Josh scoffed. “It’s video game club. Besides, me and Paul already have a campaign with our other friends.”

“‘Course you do,” she mumbled, folding her arms.

“Ooo! I got an idea!” Kyle spoke up, raising his massive hand. “We should hit up Bart. That bar with the art and retro games?”

Annalise perked up. Finally, someone with a brain cell. “I participated in a Smash Bros tournament there. It’s really fun, we should all go one weekend.”

“A bar?” Josh said in distaste.

“Yeah! It’ll be a class field trip or something!” Chad agreed. “It’s awesome, bro! They got a Gamecube and an N64! Sometimes they do karaoke night, but only with songs from different games!”

Then, Kyle looked at Annalise with a smirk. “Bet your boyfriend would perform there, eh?”

Even when she was far away from him, Shawn still had a presence wherever she went. “Heh, maybe…”

Luckily, none of these guys were the type to hover. The subject went back to going to Bart one weekend, and then the group chat was revived to discuss further adventures. Once the meeting was adjourned, Patrick followed me out the door.

“So, Annie. No offense or anything,” he said, walking in step beside her as they walked down the corridor, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My summer was great, thanks,” Annalise said, too busy glancing at her phone to cringe at that awful nickname. No new messages for once.

“Nah, seriously. You were in the fucking hospital, and I find out through Snapchat?” he asked seriously. “Did you even tell anybody? What the hell happened?”

She didn’t remember posting anything about her hospital stay anywhere on social media. However, the only two people who were there with her were social media freaks. Stella was the type to tweet every single one of her brain farts, and frequently Snap where she was every second. Shawn was less active on his platforms, but he was still quite popular in the Toronto area, so he had a sizeable following. Annalise knew he took a picture of his hand holding hers while she was in the hospital at least once. Maybe it made it to his Instagram story a couple of times.

Sighing, Annalise gave Patrick the gist of her exciting adventure with her large intestine. Some underlying guilt wanted to be felt as she recalled staying and Shawn’s for so long, but she decided to spare those details.

“Looked death in the face, eh?” he said, nodding in what looked like approval. “Badass.”

She chuckled. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be yeeted off this mortal coil.”

“Ugh, you use the word yeet? How much has that guy changed you?” Patrick stuck his tongue out at her, flashing the piercing he had on the muscle.

“Hey, I’m more down with the kids than he is.”

The pair were quiet as they made it out to the courtyard. The night was chilly and cloudy, the only light coming from the lampposts on either side of the walkway. It felt different knowing Annalise was with only a friend rather than her mans, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the urge to talk about him.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Patrick asked after a minute. “Being so close to death?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. “Although, when I was under, I had a really vivid dream that my… uh, Shawn cheated on me.” Way to not talk about him.

“You sure it was a dream?”

They were passing by one of the picnic tables, where Patrick pointed to. There was a group of people standing around the table, and two people sitting on top of it. One of those people was Shawn with his acoustic guitar. He was singing with the girl who was sitting next to him, the same one he was walking with at the science building. It wouldn’t have seemed weird if Patrick hadn’t said what he said. It would have been left alone if Annalise hadn’t thought about that stupid fever dream.

“Come on,” she said to Patrick as she stalked off towards the group.

“I was joking!” he said with a laugh.

Still, Annalise walked with a purpose and he followed her. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and kept her chin up as she made herself apart of the tiny audience. It was quite the sight, two nerds decked out in all black and heavy eyeliner amongst a group of normals watching two other normals sing a pop song. No lie, Annalise just wanted to get a look at this girl she had never seen before.

Olive skin. Black, curly hair. Very short next to her guy. Very pretty voice coming out of very pretty lips. She looked at Shawn and he looked back at her as they sang an eerily familiar song. Musically speaking, they seemed good together.

“I’ll leave you with the memory, and the aftertaste…”

The tiny audience clapped. Patrick was nodding in pleasant surprise, probably having never heard Shawn’s songs before. Annalise applauded as well, but she couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes as she watched Shawn and this girl high five each other.

They were both comfortable with all the attention, it was easy to see. Shawn was beaming in a way that hadn’t been seen in a long time, and then he laid eyes on Annalise. He still had that smile on his face, even though it faltered a little bit. She kept her face neutral and quirked her eyebrows at him as a silent greeting.

“Should I leave you guys alone?” asked Patrick as he and Annalise watched Shawn get down from the table top.

“No,” she replied simply.

She almost regretted having him stay. He had to witness Shawn and Annalise attempt to figure out how to greet each other. A side hug would have been awkward for reasons not only having to do with the guitar strapped to his shoulder. She definitely couldn’t kiss him, because that would have started something she had been trying to distance herself from. They finally settled for a mildly uncomfortable handshake, and Shawn kept holding her hand as he spoke.

It had been almost a week since Ann moved out, and she only sent him one text in that time span. It was the black heart emoji. Better than nothing, but not better than seeing her in person.

“You haven’t answered my texts,” Shawn told her. If she was going to decide when she'll give him attention, then he wasn't going to beat around the bush when he saw her.

“I’ve been busy,” Ann replied, feebly attempting to shake her hand away.

Shawn nodded, but he wasn't thoroughly convinced. Between work and school, Ann was a hermit. Or so he thought, given that she now had this new goth dude at her side. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Who’s yours?” she quickly said back.

“I’m Patrick!” said Patrick, holding out his hand. “Annie and I go way back!”

Shawn let go of her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, brother. Wait… Annie?” He chuckled.

Her cheeks heated up, and she decided to move her eyes somewhere else, specifically on Shawn’s unnamed singing partner. She was chatting with some of the other people still around the table. Annalise noticed she talked with her hands a lot.

“She lets me call her that even though she hates it,” Patrick said, snapping her back into the moment. “Right, Annie?”

“Do not,” she warned. Then she looked at Shawn. “So who’s the chick you’re singing with?”

Shawn took in an almost reluctant deep breath as he turned and called the girl over. If there was anything he had yet to discover, it had to be if his girl was the jealous type.

Annalise's dark brown eyes narrowed once again while he wasn’t looking. Call it anxiety or paranoia, but she was oddly suspicious. Patrick caught the glare though, and he nudged her arm to snap her out of it.

“Ann, Patrick, this is Alessia,” Shawn said when the very short girl joined them. “She’s a first year. Alessia, this is my…” He elongated the vowel. “Annalise. And her friend Patrick.”

Okay, so… a sinking feeling in the tummy. That’s what that felt like. Couldn’t be mad, though. Annalise wasn’t so quick to use the boyfriend word these days.

“You’re Annalise!” Alessia said in pleasant surprise. She did not hesitate to hug her, arms going around her shoulders and practically pulling her down to her level. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Honestly, Annalise was just glad she didn’t call her the goth girlfriend. Or the goth anything, for that matter. She didn’t hug Patrick, though, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how did you two meet?” Annalise prompted. So maybe she was a little more than curious to know how and when Shawn found the time to get another girl at his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shawn replied a little too quickly.

His eyes bored into hers, throwing them into a staredown. He broke through the fake, polite smile Ann had on. Of course he broke it. He was the only one who could. However, Shawn couldn't read the expression she had on. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, happy or not… He couldn't tell if she wanted to change her mind about this separation or not… Ten months together and Ann was still a mystery.

“Uh, Shawn and I have like, every class together,” Alessia said slowly, looking between the couple, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. She scratched the back of her head.

“Annie and I have been in the same club for two years,” Patrick added in the same tone. He too noticed the tension.

“Oh, which club? There’s some I’ve been checking out…”

Those two kept up the conversation. Shawn’s gaze on Annalise made her throat close up. He wasn’t smiling or feigning politeness anymore. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard and glossed over. Inexplicable guilt began to form in her chest yet again. She knew he didn’t understand.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @yourdelightfullyleft @shawmndes @havethetimeeofyourlifee @calyumthomas

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 3

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Malcolm didn’t get a second of sleep that night.  After more than an hour tossing and turning in bed, mind racing, he reluctantly reached for his tablet and glasses, turning on the bedside lamp.

A simple Google search turned up hundreds of thousands of articles on inheritance, but none seemed to offer any solutions to receiving the inheritance without meeting the stipulations of the will.  He was an old man, perhaps he was going senile?  Why would he do this?

He shot off an email to the will executor and solicitor, asking Is it possible he was not in sound mind?  Is there a previous version of the will that doesn’t include this marriage requirement?

It was likely a vain hope, but he had to try.  Resolving to forget about the marriage idea for the moment, he turned his attention to finding a job posting board.  After a few false starts he tried charity administrator openings London, and with a sigh, began reading through the first posting.

No matter what happens, this is going to suck.  Thanks a lot, Uncle Wally.

-

Friday

By the time his alarm went off he was dressed and ready to go, texting Graham to cancel his morning pickup and deciding to take the Underground instead.  Pausing just outside the gate and staring up at the townhouse, he realized with a jolt, Everything I have is tied up in the Estate.  If I lose this inheritance, I lose everything.

At twenty-seven he’d fled Glasgow before the ink on his divorce papers was dry, bringing Clara to London for a fresh start.  His uncle had been kind enough to give him a job working for The Thistle Foundation in the mailroom, and he spent most of the next decade working his way up and earning his keep until Wallace decided to retire, leaving Malcolm in charge.  The townhouse went with the Estate, having been owned by the family since shortly after it was built, and he didn’t so much draw a salary from the Foundation as receive a stipend from his uncle.

I’m fifty years old and have almost nothing to my name.

It had always been a given that he would inherit; Wallace had never had children, his only sibling Malcolm’s father, and Malcolm was in effect an only child, his brother having died decades ago.  He’d never had to worry about assets, had few personal expenses.  To lose the Estate would cost him everything.

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed his stop, barely making it through the doors onto the platform before they closed.  Coming up to street-level he looked around, catching sight of the little shop Rose usually got their morning coffees from, only recognizing it by the familiar logo.

Stepping inside, it wasn’t until he was facing the cashier he realized he had no idea what Rose usually ordered.  “Erm, hi.  I don’t do this, my assistant is usually in here – pretty, blonde, big smile, name of Rose?  D’you-”

“Oh, you must be Malcolm!” the girl, Amy, gushed, eyes lighting up.  “Of course we know Rose, she’s in here everyday!  Oi, Mel, Rose’s regular order, stat!”  She turned back to him, finding him blinking at her in surprise.  “Always nice to meet a fellow Scot.  Rose is great, isn’t she?”

“The absolute best,” he agreed proudly, unsurprised but touched by the impression she obviously left everywhere she went.  That’s my gi- that’s Rose.  “I’d be hopelessly lost without her.”

“Too right.  Anyway, here we are, that’s ten quid,” she passed over two large takeaway cups of coffee and a pastry bag.

Right.  Feeling like a moron, entirely out of sorts after first the previous day’s bombshell and then no sleep, he dug out a twenty-pound note and thrust it across the space.  “Keep the change.  Thanks.”

Picking up the order he made his way to the door, more focused on the drinks than where he was walking, elbowing open the door and slamming right into someone entering.  “Shit!”  He barely managed to keep hold of everything, coffee sloshing dangerously but only spilling a little, and he looked up to give the person a piece of his mind only to stop dead in surprise.  “Oh, fuck me.”

Rose arched one eyebrow in response, a smile flickering over her lips.  “I’d rather not get banned from here, if it’s all the same to you, ta.” She plucked one of the cups from his hand, lifting it to her nose before taking a large gulp.  “What’re you doing here?”

Stepping out onto the sidewalk they started down the street towards their building, falling naturally into sync.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d come in early.  I saw the place, and…” he trailed off, shrugging one shoulder.  “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she echoed, rolling her eyes.  “Clara stopped by, talked my ear off until half two.  Decided to just get a move on.”

The silence was awkward, which only served to annoy him; they had always had a good rapport, after the first six or so months once she had settled into her role.  Now, eight years later he considered their partnership to be a well-oiled machine, two halves of a whole despite the on-paper power imbalance.

He held the door for her as they entered their building, nodding to the security guards as they buzzed through.  Rose hit the button on the lift for their floor, and they rode up alone.

Malcolm followed her to her desk, watching as she flicked on the lights and shrugged off her coat, vaguely curious to her routine; she typically arrived only a few minutes before him- long enough to be settled and ready to face the day, but recent enough that his coffee was always hot and fresh.

“Oh!” she yelped, turning around to see him leaning on the corner of her desk, watching her.  “D’you need something?  My computer’s still booting up.”

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, before he sighed, shoulders slumping.  “No, I’m good.  Just- oh, you know what you’re doing.  I’ll be in my office.”  Extracting his muffin from the pastry bag he slunk into his office, falling into his desk chair and turning to gaze listlessly out the window.

What am I supposed to do?

-

It was, quite frankly, the worst day of Rose’s professional career.  Things got done, most of her duties able to be completed on autopilot after so long, but she could muster no spark to put into any of it.  No banter. None of her signature Rose Tyler charm.

Her computer dinged and she glanced up from where she was poking at her salad halfheartedly to groan.  “Oh, you’ve got to be motherfucking shitting me.”

“Rose Tyler!”  Malcolm’s delighted voice made her jump and yelp, “I’m so proud of you.  That was almost a proper swear.”

“Missy’s on her way up,” she didn’t even look at him, clicking on the IM box from Mickey, the building’s security guard and one of her oldest friends.  It was just an emoji, two wide eyes, but it was their code.  “What do you want me to do?”

He sighed heavily.  “Fine, I’ll see her.  I swear, she must have my office bugged or something.”

The lift dinged, and she raised her eyes to glance at him.  He looks like he’s having as rough a day as I am.  He’d said he hadn’t slept; had it been for the same reason she hadn’t?  No, he was probably thinking about the gala.  Of course it was about that, dingbat.  “I’ll send her in.”

“Thanks.”

He disappeared back into his office as Missy walked in, and Rose had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing or rolling her eyes.  What did he ever see in her?  Missy Tucker was without comparison the most extravagant, eccentric person she’d ever met, and that included all of her mother’s rich society ‘friends’.

“Good afternoon, welcome to The Thistle Foundation, do you have an appointment?” Rose asked sweetly, as the older woman approached her desk.

“I’d like to see my husband, please.”  Missy’s smile was just as fake-sweet as Rose’s, as they went through the whole song-and-dance.  One of the very first things Rose had been taught on her first day, by both Malcolm and her predecessor Jo, was to stall Missy as long as possible, making enough trouble that she didn’t find it worth it to visit the office.

This is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, Rose lectured herself, pretending to stare intently at her screen for a moment.  “I can give you a few minutes, but he has a call at one that he can’t miss.”

“Thank you.”  And she swept past Rose into Malcolm’s office.

Once the door shut behind her, Rose let loose an undignified snort.  Taking a subtle picture with her mobile, she texted it to Clara with the caption Your mum’s here.

Missy Tucker was the subject of ongoing amusement amongst the three; every time she appeared after months of no contact she had an entirely different style, often with a slight tweak to her features suggesting she was a fan of cosmetic surgery.  Today her chosen look was that of evil Mary Poppins, complete with a plum-colored ankle-length skirt and matching dress coat, a white dress shirt buttoned to the neck with an elaborate bow, black heeled boots, a delicate hat, and an umbrella Rose would swear was an actual prop from the movie.

She looked ridiculous, and like she would be right at home as the evil orphanage matron in a Victorian version of Annie!

Are you fucking kidding me? Clara pinged back almost immediately.  I love my Dad, but God I wish I was adopted.  Please tell me I didn’t inherit her fashion sense!

Snickering, Rose shook her head and returned to her work polishing up her resume.  At precisely one o’clock she buzzed in on the intercom, using what Clara called her flight attendant voice.  “Malcolm, I have that potential donor on line two.”

“Thank you, Miss Tyler.”

A moment later the door opened and Missy stalked out, a murderous expression on her face.  “I’ll talk to you soon,” she threatened her ex over her shoulder, ignoring Rose as she stormed towards the lift.

Rose waited until the lift doors closed before rising and entering Malcolm’s office.  “So?”

He was lying on his couch with his head back against the cushions, a crystal cut glass of scotch hanging loosely from his hand.  “She wants to reconcile, says she’s changed, wants to go back to what we once were.”

“What did you say?”  She settled gingerly on the end of the glass coffee table by his head, watching as he opened tired eyes to stare at her.

“That who we were went up in a flaming pile of shit twenty-three years ago when I caught her high in bed with the babysitter on our fifth wedding anniversary.  That who we were was a childhood friendship that went too far.  That who we were died many, many years ago.”

He looked so sad, Rose’s heart went out to him.

“It’s far, far too late now.  A part of me will always miss that, always wonder, but…  It’s ancient history.  Never mind that this is all because of Wallace’s death and the inheritance.  She didn’t say it, but I know her.  Anything that even sniffs of money or power and she’s first in line, plotting how to get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose offered, giving him a kind smile.  “You deserve better than her.”

Sighing, he struggled upright, turning to plant his feet on the ground and set the untouched glass of scotch on the coffee table next to her.  “Thanks.”

Their eyes met, and for once, she didn’t blush and look away.  Clara’s question from the previous night circled back through her mind, and she let herself actually see him.  Ice blue eyes capable of such a coldness shined back, warm and open, something only a privileged few were allowed to see.  His strong features could be severe, Clara had once called them attack eyebrows, but when he smiled… his entire face would light up, almost like he was a different person.

She'd always found him attractive, may have had the occasional fantasy involving them, a bottle of wine, and a hot tub, but love?

Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she automatically licked her own.  She would be lying if she said she’d never wondered – didn’t everyone, at some point?  He drew closer, and she realized that she was leaning in; they were both leaning in.  Is this really happening?

Rose’s eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding, and she could feel his breath against her lips when-

“Dad?”

[whirlybirbs]

"let me buy you a drink" w/ punchy + drunk!poe

» BAR BRAWL!

summary: things were good, then an old friend of poe joins the resistance. sura likes jessika, poe likes you, you think poe like sura... it’s a mess. and then, enter gret franz. cue the bar brawl.pairing: poe dameron x cadet!reader, punchyrating: t for some drinking references, bar fights over a girla/n:  a drabble based off poe + punchy from pre-flight check! this operates along their story-line, after the mission and pre-getting-together! this got long so.... here we are.

The base’s cantina is where, at any give point on a Friday night, you can find nearly all of the Resistance's Starfighter Corp. Dagger, Stiletto, Cobalt and especially Black Squadron all operated under the age-old guise of: work hard, party harder.

Karé and Jessika insist you deserve a round or two on them after the bantha-shit you’d been dragged through all week; you’d been off your game ever since returning back from the Voss mission. Blame a certain Black Leader for that. You feel like you can’t go anywhere without --

“Look who it is!”

You try to avoid Poe’s gaze as you rendezvous with the other half of Black Squadron.

Snap Wexley greets Karé is a smile and a kiss. That riles a chorus of chirps and jeers from the squadron. You greet Oddy, L’ulo and Snap with quick knuckle bumps and high-fives (each personalized, of course), before offering Poe a curt nod from around Jessika. 

He swigs his beer. 

Awkward.

"Who are we toasting tonight?” Oddy chirps, eyes bright as he moves to toss a credit towards the bartender. 

Jessika’s hand come down on your shoulders and she shakes you in good fun. “We’re getting Punchy messed up tonight.”

“No, c’mon --” you mumble, raising your hands, “I’ve had a shit week enough --”

“No,” it’s Karé this time, “No backing out, you agreed to get wild with us -- girls night, remember?”

“Speaking of...” Snap leans, elbowing Poe in the ribs, “Look who just got here.”

You watch the exchange, eyes narrowing as you spot Poe’s brows dart upwards. The back door of the cantina swings open and through the dimly lit, crowded room, you see her.

Suralinda Javos is new. 

From what you were able to gather from Snap and L’ulo, she’s retired New Republic Navy -- she worked as a journalist for a bit and after a visit gone awry, Poe recruited her for the Resistance. There’s, apparently, a mixed history there. And that is cause enough for you to dislike her. 

God, you wish you could wipe that look off’s Poe face. She’s not even that great. Okay, fine, she’s beautiful. And tall. And lean and dangerous and cunning and...

You feel like a T-40 X-Wing, and she’s latest model when she walks in the room.

Not to mention the clash of personalities. 

She was promoted to Crimson Squadron’s flight commander in the matter of a week, no doubt for word down the chain.

You are, by no means, by the book -- but the Squamatan is chaos in the sky. You nearly throttled your helmet through your windshield after drills one day when you watched Poe leap from his cockpit, cheering and commending her and loving how reckless she was. 

So, yeah, there’s maybe a little jealousy there. Reckless was your thing. And when you were reckless, Poe just... got all huffy and did his usual ‘kid’ routine. 

“I could go for that round about now,” you deadpan, ignoring the way every pilot in the bar seems to gravitate to the teal-skinned Squamatan, “Anyone else?”

A gruff grunt. It’s Jessika. “Yep.”

“Count me in.”

Karé and Jessika had, really, been your saving grace post-Voss; they were kind enough to listen to you rant and rave -- and eventually help you navigate yourself to the point of, yeah, you didn’t hate Poe. The self-exploration stopped there, though. Whatever this was happened to be a bit more complicated than not-hate. You couldn’t say you you were excited to admit that you didn’t hate Poe at all, quite the opposite, because having feelings for your flight-Commander is so not good.

So, you shut up and pull your big-girl flight suit up, because you were content on just being good with Poe. 

No arguments, no side-hand comments, no butting-of-heads. You’d even smiled at him after drills; it was like the sweetest sucker punch in the world.

Until this week.

It was too good. And then Suralinda traipsed into it all.

Long story short, Jessika and Karé can’t stand her either. Which, honestly, is so not your vibe. You were very anti pitting-girls-against-girls because of shared interest in a man, but you’ve always been bullheaded and Jessika and Karé are good friends. 

And, right now, beside the very gorgeous Suralinda, you’re thankful for good friends. 

“Hey, you.”

You scoff at Poe’s greeting for the Crimson Leader. Suralinda offers a big smile, hand moving for his arm. “Hey!”

Jessika and Karé shoulder you, muscling you down the line and far from the interaction happening -- all before leaning over the bar and gesturing for a round of shots. And that is pretty much how the night goes. Little by little, the Squadron joins you and the girls.

Poe and Suralinda continue their cosmic level flirting, and you settle on joking with the rest of Black Squadron. 

You’re trying to stack shot glasses when a hand on your shoulder interrupts. 

You turn, buzz spinning the room in the best way. 

And there’s Gret Franz, Dagger Squadron’s offensive left-wing -- tall, dark, handsome. His smile is lopsided and dangerous and you’re hooked; everyone knows Gret is a flirt, but suddenly you’re in the spotlight and you can’t get enough of it.

And Poe? Poe’s all set, thanks. 

“What’s up with that?” Suralinda asks, brows quirked as she juts her chin to motion in your direction.

Poe’s entire face falls.

He hates how sweet your smile is then. It reminds him of the one you’d spared him on the space depot, all toothy and bright. Dimples dig into your cheeks and Poe watches as Gret Franz makes you laugh. Actually laugh. And makes half his squadron laugh, too. 

“You like her,” Sura chirps, “Don’t you?”

Poe’s known Suralinda since his first year in the academy -- and though L’ulo and Oddy like to tease, their friendship is only platonic; any romance was blasted out the airlock Poe’s second year when Suralinda shut him down hard and fast. 

Poe, it’s not you, really, she’d said one night, seriously, I don’t swing that way. 

Suralinda’s just trying to get an in to make moves on Jessika. All those risky flight maneuvers, all the lunches in the mess at Black Squadron’s table... and still, Jessika Pava is a little too busy being a good friend to even notice the advances. 

Nothing ever works smoothly with Resistance Starfighters and romance. It’s just not how the gears roll. 

“No,” he says it too fast. Sura rolls her eyes, “She’s... we’re just squad-mates.”

“Is that why you don’t like her?”

Yeah, duh, fraternization isn’t just a Navy rule. Poe says nothing, only moves from his post at the bar to shoulder his way down the line. 

Something spikes a hot anger in his gut when Gret’s hands move to your lower back, leaning over you to press his chest to your back. The proximity stirs a jealousy in him that he tries to push away, but... he’s tipsy. And ---

And Gret is a trash flight-leader.

Imagine your surprise when you’re suddenly not only the subject of Gret’s attention, but Poe’s -- the curly haired commander arrives at your other side, nudging you and offering a slow smile. Gret notes the man by your side and sudden center of your attention. 

Poe and Gret’s gazes connect.

At once, both of them blurt out:

“Let me buy you a drink.”

You have to do a double take. The Squadron behind you falls into a heavy silence at the sudden rivalry being created -- you turn to look at them both, shifting from foot to foot then, eyes darting between the flight-leaders. You blink, mouth falling open as you try to find the right words to say. 

The shots have your thoughts working slow, sticky like honey.

“Really --”

“No,” Poe laughs, “I insist, man --”

“I thought you were busy --” Gret chirps, “With Sura.”

“Sura and I --” Poe says with a tight smile, blinking up at the taller pilot, “... are just friends. So, why don’t you run along back to Dagger Squadron’s little corner and let me buy my Lieutenant a drink?”

The bar now, has their attention trained on the growing tension between the two men, voices stifled and eyes drawn. The bar seems to back up two paces, making room with the egos clashing. 

“Oh,” it’s a sharp laugh, “Big talk coming from you.”

“From me? Yeah?”

“Last I checked,” Gret jabs, “You got laid out by your Lieutenant. Twice.”

Poe’s jaw clenches. You can see the anger there. He wets his lips, swallowing before turning his head to shoot Snap a look; for a second, you think maybe Poe’s going to back off. And then, brown eyes land on you.

“She’s got a mean hook.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Poe pokes the bear. 

“Too bad she’s not into academy drop-outs, Gret.”

Then, you watch Gret, aforementioned New Republic Navy Academy dropout, land a hit on Poe. You’re, honestly, blown by it -- mostly because starting fights was more your thing than it was Poe’s thing. Secondly, because the whole bar proceeds to erupt into a brawl, seemingly over the rivalry created in an instant over buying you a drink. Fittingly enough, though, when your brain and body decide to get it together through the haze of enough alcohol to knock a Tauntaun out, you’re the one that ends the fight.

“Enough!”

The shriek stills the bar as you pull Poe and Gret from each other. Black Squadron, in various ends of the cantina, cease their punching. The whole corp follows suite. 

You swallow, hair wild as you try and catch your breath. Standing and squaring your shoulders, you speak slowly.

Your speech is slurred, face hot. You jam your finger into Poe’s chest, ignoring the split lip. You lean, staggering a bit.

“I... will buy myself a drink.”

And like that, it’s settled.

You buy yourself a drink. And Poe goes home with his ego (and his jaw) bruised.