#because yeah of course you should but also from the furthest reaches of time the arts have always been how we connect as humans

[critical-birb]

Sometimes I feel inspired to pick up my art supplies again and draw and paint and print beautiful things. I feel a burst of love and passion like I had in my youth to create things and share them with the world.

Then I log onto Instagram or twitter or any of the places I was aggressively told in university to post work to eight times a day if I even wanted a chance to break into the industry, and I see every small company that uses to be the entry points for young artists now using crummy AI art for everything they do and all of the larger companies and publishers advertising art that has been so aggressively forced into one very specific, lifeless style because that is what fits the market and is quick to produce.

I see every artist desperately posting the most beautifully crafted artwork that means the world to them and those posts being mindlessly ignored until they beleive their work is worthless because Internet culture has unfortunatly conditioned us all to be bottomless consumers and so hundreds of hours of blood and tears is nothing more than something to scroll past.

Then I log out and go back to bed, and my art supplies sit sadly on the shelf another year.

People love to say "create for yourself!" but that only takes you so far. Humans create as a way to share.

Imagine you baked a stunningly beautiful cake every week to bring to work - it took you practically the whole weekend to bake every teir and frost it and decorate it to perfection. And either no one eats it or a single piece gets taken, and nobody ever thanks you. There's a thousand cakes on the coffee table; most either store-bought ones or even fake ones.

Eventually you stop bothering to bring a cake in. You still bake, sure. You like baking. But you don't make beautiful cakes anymore. You only have you to bake for, after all. What's the point in making them beautiful or trying to create something new when you could just eat it out of the baking tray with a fork?

Its just all so....sad, isn't it?

[astraydestiny]

Daily Writing Complete‼️

Homestly, not really. I wrote 505, IM GOING BACK TO 505, sorry, words on my main story… BUTTT i wrote a bunch of notes and stuff that has to equate to like 700 words??? But thats for my main story, I finished one of the CW!!!

That’ll be out to you guys tomorrow. Im pretty pround of it! Especially for 1.5k! But… I feel like its a bit rushed, and in some places it feels a bit exposition heavy? But i do like the emotion and symbolism in the story. It turnes out pretty good I think! I cant wait for you guys to see this because then you guys can actually get a grip for how I write and stuff, and not judge my writing off these stupid blurbs and stuff! Yk, if you guys like the one tomorrow, I’ll give yall a Thousand Fireflies to eat up too! Just- dont copy it alright? Its not free-use work!!! In fact- i should probably put that in my bio and stuff. But anyways… IM PROUD OF MYSELF! I feel like I was blocked on my main story, because I had a fun time writing this side project! I just that goes to show how important it is to take breaks from main projects in favor for smaller ones, just so you dont burn yourself out by accident! Because burning yourself out is… NOT GOOD! Not good to sya the least… but yah. I feel like i got multiple questions wrong on my science quiz today and istgoodness… IT WAS EZ I SWEAR TO GOODNESS. I just tripped up during it… Also guys I realized that I should really start yapping more irl because… Im look at these posts and thinking- wow. This person must have no friends if they have THIS many thoughts and no one to tell them to. AND THEN I REALIZE IM TALKING ABT MYSELF. Like sometimes I either dont speak because i dont want to interrupt someone- but the times I do speak… PEOPLE INTERRUPT ME! AND THE TIMES WHEN I FEEL LIKE I CAN ACTUALLY SPEAK- I INTERRUPT SOMEONE ELSE! Of course this doesnt happen that often, to be honest Im too busy wriitng during my lunch break to talk, but you know. PRIORITIES!!!

I LOVE PINTEREST SO MUCH. GOING CRAZY WITH IDIA SHROUD IN THE BACKGROUND 😍😍😍 i love idia sheoud i relate to him sm (not really) tbh I feel like i relate to him- but at the same time I dont??? Bec he gets prideful and arrogant sometimes and I dont get like that (HEH NOT TO FLEX OR ANYTHING 😼😼🤗🤗)

I feel like if I related to anyone, it would probably be leona. Not because hes like super fit or anything- LIKE IM THE FURTHEST AWAY FROM HIM PERSONALITY. Its just that like, him being the second and stuff, doomed to never be the first, the best, really resonates with me. Especially since Im surrounded by people who self-proclaim themselves as ‘first places’ everyday, kinda gets on my nerves… WRITING IDEA!!!!

Like im not saying having a big ego is wrong, nor am I saying that those peoples achievements are bad BECAUSE they are so amazing. i think they should be proud of that, and they dont owe humility to anyone because they worked hard for it, (AHEM AHEM VIL SCHOENHEIT MY KING). But its when they see people that are trying to reach for those ambitions and they flaunt how they could do better. THATS when I start doubting their ability. Because you could be the best in the world, but if your too busy running your mouth about how your the best, you’ll be left in the dust- and youll find that all those people who were under you before… Appeared triumphant.

IDK DAILY WORDS OF WISDOM ADDED HERE TOO. Vil Schoenheit my KINGGGGG I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANT TO BE LIKE HIM. When i become rlly good at writing, I want to be able to act like him!! Because he is confident in himself, doesnt owe humility to anyone (but of course still expresses it from time to time), and is respectful about it (we dont talk about book 5). I love Vil Schoenheit, such a misunderstoid character fr. OH YEAH

If your not a twisted wonderland fan, these are the characters I mentioned in this post!!!

^ Idia Shroud in the middle, next to his lil’ bro Ortho Shroud!!

^ Vil Shoenheit in the middle, to the right is Rook Hunt, and to his left is Epel Felmier (the short one!)

^ Leona Kingscholar!!

ALRIGHT GUYS!!! Now, I have math hw. SO I NEEDA BOUNCE! SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW AND STUFF!!!

Daily music rec is Sponsored by this guy !!!@unmotivatedartistry PRETTY GOOD SONG!!!

Here are some snacks for the road: 🍔🍔🌭🌯🥙🥪🥪🍕🌯🥗🥙🍔🥪🌯 (taco bell burritos proceed with caution)

BYEEEEEEEEE

-Kani

[andforthecoating]

► Accidentally domestic

also on ao3

Summary: five times you and jack are domestic without realising it

inspired by a prompt list, though I lost the op!

Word count: 1267

1.) buying the other’s coffee for them without thinking

You walk into the Jeffersonian at the usual hour, your heavy bag slung around your shoulder and two cups of coffee from your favorite café a few minutes away in your hands. It doesn’t differ too much from your normal routine but you can feel Angela’s eyes following you as you make your way toward the office space.

Zach waves at you from where he’s sitting hunched over a piece of bone down the hall and you throw a happy ‘hey’ his way before continuing over to Jack’s desk.

“Hi,” you greet him, a bit breathless after your walk from the car- you’d had to park at the parking spot the furthest away from the building and the 10 minute walk had been agonising with your bag strap digging into your shoulder.

“Hi,” Jack says and turns to you with a small smile on his face. “Is that for me?” He gestures to one of the coffee cups.

“Yes, it’s from that café I was telling you about the other day. It’s probably the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t oversell it now,” Jack teases before his expression mellows into something genuine, “no, but thank you, y/n.”

You smile and set down the cup you hadn’t drunk from beside him on his desk.

“Really, it's no big deal. You have to tell me what you think though.”

“Of course!”

You salute him jokingly as you walk over to your own desk. They’re not really far apart, just a few meters away, but they’re turned so that you sit with your back to him. You start unpacking your bag and taking out some of the research material you’ve been working on when Angela comes up by your side.

“Good morning, y/n!”

“Morning, Angela.” You say

“I see you brought more than one coffee today,” she says in a suggestive tone that you can’t quite read.

“Yeah, I was at this coffee place I really love and I realized I’d told Jack he should try it sometime.” You nod over to where the man in question is sipping from the takeaway mug. His face is concentrated and you smile, just as a thought belatedly hits you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry that I didn’t buy anything for you guys, i just-“

“It’s no problem. I get it. It was a Hodgins exclusive,” she winks at that and you inwardly cringe. For all her smoothness, Angela hasn’t quite mastered the art of a subtle wink without scrunching up her nose yet.

She’s wrong though. You had just stopped in to buy your usual latte when you’d seen they had a special new blend. Thinking that it had Jack written all over it, you had bought that as well and walked out of the café with two steaming mugs in your hands instead of one.

“There’s no such thing as a Hodgins exclusive,” you say decisively.

“Hey!” Jack shouts from his desk, clutching his hand to his chest, “I’ll tell you I can be very exclusive.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it!” You counter and Angela rolls her eyes. She’s used to your antics by now and you know there’s a lot of love packed into the exasperated sigh that follows.

2.) knowing each other’s passcodes

“Oh I know! We should text someone from Hodgins’ phone,” Angela giggled as she eyed the phone Jack had left on their table in the bar as he’d made his way to the restrooms.

You reach for the phone, tapping a few times before conspiratorially pushing it toward Angela.

“Go crazy,” you say and take a sip of your drink.

Angela looks at you, her brown eyes wide with wonder.

“You know his passcode!?”

“Yeah?” You inquire, not understanding what she’s trying to get at, but before long she’s started tapping out a message to Brennan and the two of you collapse into a heap of giggles.

3.) always talking about each other to their other friends

“… because of that Jack has this thing now where he’s trying to see how many times he can make up fake facts before Goodman is onto him. It’s really funny actually.” You finish the anecdote you’ve been recounting to your long distance best friend on your weekly ‘catch-up’ call.

“You know you talk about Jack a lot, y/n,” she says and you stop in your tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“You bring him up in every conversation,” she explains, “I think I know more about what Jack Hodgins did today than I do what I did at work.”

“That’s- well I spend all my time with him, so it’s not that weird.”

“You spend a lot of time with Angela too but I don’t hear you mentioning her new bug experiment.”

“Well, Angela doesn’t work with bugs,” you say even though you know that’s not what she meant, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You can almost feel your best friend’s eye roll through the phone line.

“Sure,” she amends, probably tired of the topic, “so what are we doing for Halloween this year?”

4.) complimenting each other’s outfits

“What’s got you all dressed up?” Angela inquires as Jack walks in. He’s wearing a black button down with his beige chinos, which you know are his special occasion pants. He smiles guiltily.

“That obvious, huh?” He asks as he drops off the file you’d forgotten at his place yesterday. It’s his day off, so he really shouldn’t have, but you can’t say that you aren’t eternally grateful.

“I think you look really good,” you say as you reach out to fix his collar that’s slightly askew, “very hot and mysterious.”

He flashes you a grin at that.

“Are you saying you’d hit this?”

“Never in a thousand years.”

“But you’re saying there’s a chance,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. You swat him lightly across the arm and he yelps, a look of faux annoyance on his face.

“In your dreams, Dr Hodgins.”

5.) always sitting together rather than across from each other

The team is meeting at Booth’s noodle place after a particularly difficult case but so far the only people in the booth are you and Jack. You’d arrived ten minutes before the decided time and he had joined you just a few minutes late, apologizing until he realized you were the only one on time and then he’d just sent a small smile your way.

Now you’re sitting next to each other on the tacky red bench, you resting your head on his shoulder.

“What time is it?” You ask him as a yawn almost escapes your lips. You feel his shoulder shake with barely restrained laughter.

“It’s just past 8.10. They’ll probably be here any minute.”

“Good,” you say, subconsciously nuzzling into his shoulder even more. It’s been a long day and all you had wanted was to be at home with your cat and a cup of tea, but the team (mostly Angela) had insisted on this after-work.

After another few minutes the two of you decide to order, letting the owner pick out what he thinks is best. As your meals arrive the others still haven’t arrived. You and Jack share a look and you shake your head, shuffling closer to him in an effort to relax your body.

You sit there for another hour before Jack decides you’re too sleepy to drive home and offers to take you. You give him a grateful smile as the two of you part from the restaurant hand in hand.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 6 - The First Date [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

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

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

Summary: First dates can end in strange ways.

Series Masterlist

Every agent in your division knew the Winter Soldier, the unstoppable assassin, the infamous ghost story, the man who had been fighting for over 80 years. He was a legend, and meeting him was something you were all taught to avoid ever since the espionage world had found out about his existence.

The last time, a whole team of heavily armed soldiers were sent to take him down and he had managed to disarm every single one of them without even needing a weapon. So theoretically if you were to send an agent to meet him, you would probably make sure that agent carried about a thousand weapons and preferably went there in a bulletproof vehicle.

Instead, you were told to wear a cute dress for the first date.

Lovely.

“How come I can’t wear any of my clothes?” you asked, pressing the phone to your ear as you took a look at all the dresses lying on your bed.

“Not that your sniper outfits aren’t hot, but wearing them to your first date with the Winter Soldier might not be the brightest idea.”

You heaved a sigh, “I still can’t believe you changed my whole wardrobe when I was outside, Chloe. What was wrong with my usual clothes?”

“They’re not what your cover would wear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Pick the one with those small flowers on it,” Chloe said, “Mini dress, chiffon. Cream colored.”

You hummed and grabbed the hanger, then held it over your body.

“Are we sure?”

“Trust me. Perfect for the first date.”

“Did mini dresses exist back in his time?” Keith’s voice reached you, making you frown, “Or was he born in those times with those giant dresses?”

“Excuse me, why am I on speaker?” you asked, “Also Keith, what are you doing in the headquarters? I need you and the team ready to interfere anytime.”

“I’m not in the headquarters, I was grabbing coffee and Chloe wanted to come with me. No worries though, we’re around your area.”

“Are you insane?” you snapped, “You brought her to the field?”

“We’re just getting coffee—“

“Chloe, get back to the headquarters,” you insisted, “Now.”

“No! You have a date, Keith gets to relax at this new café, and three of us can barely spend time together nowadays!” Chloe said, “It’s always you guys who have the fun.”

“Honey I’m on a date with the Winter Soldier so that I can gather intel, Keith is going to be at that café because he and the team needs to be nearby in case my cover is blown,” you said patiently, getting into the dress,  “It’s not like we’re hanging out without you.”

“Detail.”

“It’s not just a detail-“

“No I mean the security detail is ready.” Chloe cut you off, “I got my laptop with me, I hacked into the café’s wifi.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “You did what?”

“Yeah I figured I could use a change of scenery and Keith said yes.”

“Keith, I need you to listen to me carefully,” you said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Y/N!”

“You can’t kill me.”

“Can’t I though?”

“Yeah you have a date, remember?”

You checked your wristwatch and cussed under your breath, rushing to put your shoes on.

“I put a small gadget into your wristwatch,” Chloe said, “I figured he’d recognize the ring if he saw it again. If you press the button there, the team will be called to your location shortly.”

“And if things get exciting, make sure to take the watch off,” Keith let out a laugh, “You don’t want us to interrupt your fun over an accident.”

“It’s just the first date, idiot.”

“Yeah and I’m—I’m sure there’s a rule against killing on the first date.” Chloe said, “Right?”

“Nah I killed a target on the first date before,” you mumbled, “But I wasn’t told to get into a relationship back then so… It’ll be different this time.”

“Try not to give the guy whiplash though, will you?” Keith said and you frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means dating etiquette changed since 1940s.”

“Oh don’t worry, I got that covered,” you said but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but—“

“No time Keith,” you murmured, walking to the door. Your heart was pacing against your chest for some reason as if it was a real first date, and you swung the door open to reveal Bucky waiting for you at your doorstep. He put his hands into his leather jacket, taking in your appearance.

“You know what to do if you get in trouble.” Keith said and you hung up quickly to push your phone into your purse, smiling wide at Bucky.

“Hi!” you said, “Shall we?”

                                                         ***

Now to think of it,  the last time you had been on a date without carrying any weapons had to be ten years ago if not more. But you had clear orders for this one, your superiors were convinced that carrying any kind of gun or a dagger would alert him, even if you thought it was invisible to outsider eye.

After all, he was an assassin and looking for weapons on a person from miles away was second nature for assassins.

You would know.

“So you moved here a month ago and you just know one place?” he asked as you waited for the barista to prepare your coffee, “A coffee shop? That’s it?”

“I know a milkshake shop too.”

He tilted his head, “You mean where you work?”

“That still counts,” you defended yourself “But if you insist, I might let you show me around next time.”

“Please do,” he said, “Just a heads up though, there’s a huge possibility that most of the places I know has been closed down years ago.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you told him as the barista put your coffees in front of you. “We can explore the new sights together then.”

A smile graced his lips while he led you to the table furthest from the window facing the door and you had to suppress your grin.

You weren’t the only one who was scanning the cafe for possible emergency exits and safest spots after all. Sitting by the window was a civilian mistake because in case of a shooting, you’d be in the clear sight for the shooter.

You had a feeling not many people considered that possibility on a first date.

“That sounds good,” he pulled your chair for you and you paused only for a moment before taking your seat.

Right. Born in a different era.

He took off his leather jacket and your gaze wandered off to his vibranium arm before snapping back to his eyes. He was watching you with his brows slightly raised, as if waiting to see your reaction.

“Sorry!” You said quickly, “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bucky—“

“Really,” he assured you, “Don’t worry.”

You took a deep breath, pushing your behind your ear.

“So, it’s good to meet in a place that looks like it belongs to 21st century isn’t it?”

He hissed in a breath, a mischievous light glimmering in his blue eyes “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Brutally honest.”

“I would be lying if I said I don’t miss the uniform.”

Your jaw dropped before a smile spread over your lips, “Look at that,” you said, “Told you you weren’t rusty.”

He chuckled, “I’d hope not.”

“And hey, if you miss how it was back then, some things aren’t that different than 40s,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands. He tilted his head.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Like what?”

“You know, I’m glad you asked because I actually did research in case it came up.”

He lowered his cup, “You did what?”

“Um… do you promise not to be intimidated if I am brutally honest?”

He leaned in, eyes locked to yours, “Cross my heart.”

“I did research,” you nodded, making him let out a small laugh. “No wait, listen— I just… I didn’t google you or stalk you over Instagram so I had to prepare myself in a different way.”

“I know some of those words,” he pointed out and you took a deep breath.

“It means I didn’t look you up.” you said, “When I was sixteen, I promised myself I wouldn’t look anyone up before the first date but that rule doesn’t extend to doing general research.”

“You didn’t look me up?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I like getting to know people on my own,” you said, “I’m not really interested in people’s pasts, does that make sense?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, “But I’ll do it anyway. Trusting people is kind of my thing, past or not. I’d rather be mistaken than prejudiced.”

A silence fell upon him as if he was astounded and you rested your chin on your fist, keeping your eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, “Nothing at all.”

“So—anyways, some things aren’t that different,” you said, leaning back, “Some details, that is. People still— we still go to movie theatres, that was a big thing back then too right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he said, “For first dates too.”

“We still wear hats sometimes,” you counted with your fingers, “Some people still prefer to call their partners daddy—in a different context, don’t google that— and we still have jello.”

“I heard about that,” he mused, a playful smile on his lips, “The jello, that is.”  

You grinned, scrunching up your nose.

“So yeah. There’s your crash course.”

“I appreciate it,” he said with a chuckle, “And hey, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t google you either.”

“Because you don’t know how?”

“Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, “I should probably start making a list, I keep asking Sam about some pretty common information.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean—for example, I don’t know if it’s still acceptable to bring a gal-a girl,” he corrected himself and cleared his throat, “Flowers for the first date.”

“You were going to bring me flowers?”

“Yeah! Yeah . I was going to actually, then Sam said it was old fashioned. Sharon said it was a good idea, but…”

You furrowed your brows, “Okay let me get this straight, you listened to your friend who’s a guy and not your other friend who’s a girl. About what girls like on the first date.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, “That might not have been the brightest idea now that you mentioned it.”

“No disrespect to Captain America but he might need to work on his romance skills,” you pointed out and took a sip of your coffee.

“How about you?” he asked, “What’s your story?”

I was recruited at the age of 16, just last year I took down a whole team of bad guys all by myself, I could probably kill someone in 5 different ways using this coffee cup and spoon alone.

Or not.

You had been over this. You had a full file back at home filled with details of your new identity, designed to look unsuspicious.

“There’s not much to tell I’m afraid,” you muttered, “I grew up in a small town. Everyone knew each other, and I thought it was nice, until my grandmother passed away. Then there were way too many people asking me if I was okay. In the grocery store, on my way to work… I just wanted to get away.”

“I know the feeling,” he said softly and you nodded.

Of course he did. This whole identity was fabricated for him after all.

“So I figured I could move away,” you said, “There was nothing to keep me there after all. I lost my parents when I was little, that was the reason why my grandmother took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be,” you said quickly, “Really. They just….”

My mom died in a car crash when I was 5, and one day I came home from school and my father was nowhere to be found.

Neither was his suitcase.

You had to give it to him, he had bothered to write you a note. If you could call that a note.

The infamous genius scientist had nothing to say other than he was sorry. You had burned that note that night, along with every picture in the family album.

“There was a car accident,” you tried to smile, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “Drunk driver, came out of nowhere. They both died on impact, that’s what everyone says. I don’t remember them much.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and you took a deep breath.

“Anyways,” you managed to say, “Enough about me. What about you?”

He paused before turning the cup between his hands, “That’s kind of a long story,” he said, making you arch a brow to shoot him a look.

“Well as it happens, my milkshake making schedule just cleared out.” you stated, making him smile, “We have unlimited coffee and time. Bring it on.”

                                               ***

Well, you didn’t know what you had expected but it wasn’t this. Considering he was under the impression that you were a civilian, of course he didn’t tell you any gory or top secret details but he didn’t try to make himself look innocent either, or any different than he was.

He was as sincere as an ex-assassin could be.

Cover or not, this was probably the best date you had ever been. In fact, after the first half an hour you almost forgot that it was fake, that you were supposed to dig for information instead of enjoying yourself.

You were still playing your part but it didn’t exactly feel like work.

“So no to motorcycles?” Bucky asked as you turned around to look at him better while you walked backwards.

“No to motorcycles!” you exclaimed, “Those things are deathtraps.”

“So when you said you couldn’t get on it because of your dress….”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” you motioned at your dress, “Half because of the dress, half because I don’t want to die.”

“Do you seriously believe I’d let that happen?”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm and what was it you said earlier?” he taunted you, “About trusting people?”

“I trust people,” you insisted, “I don’t trust death machines, there’s a difference.”

Well, he didn’t need to know you had a motorcycle in Chloe’s garage.

“Here we are,” you pointed at the building standing a couple of feet away from you, “My apartment. See, I told you it was close. No reason for putting our lives in danger when we can just walk.”

“Does that mean I can’t show you around the city the next time?”

“On a motorcycle?”

“Mm hm.”

“I don’t—that’s a terrible….” You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Hypothetically speaking, what would I get in return?”

His smile was calm, almost amused, “What do you want to get in return?”

You crossed your arms, looking up at the sky as if you were deep in thought, completely aware of his gaze on you.

“Flowers,” you said after a beat, “I didn’t even know they were an option but now that I know, I want flowers.”

“Is that it?” he asked, “It’s ‘a death machine’, but flowers are enough to convince you?”

“Depends,” you mused silkily, a complete opposite of the wide-eyed look in your eyes as you batted your lashes, “What else do you want me to want?”

A shadow moved behind his gaze only for a moment before it disappeared again but it was more than enough time for you to see it, and that was when you realized that there was a reason why Chloe had sent you that file.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t completely a stammering love-struck puppy when it came to flirting. While it was true that he could be a little rusty –you didn’t know how he was back in the 40s-, he also knew when to stop talking to see how far you would go in this game.

He was letting you play and think you were in control before making his move.

Patience of a sniper.

“Um- thank- thank you for tonight,” you said, averting your glances as if you were embarrassed under his gaze, playing it coy, “I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he said, “The next one will include flowers, I promise.”

You let out a nervous giggle and stepped closer to him before you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He inhaled your scent deeply, probably not even aware of what he was doing but you tried to hide your smile.

It was on the file Chloe had prepared about him. Bucky Barnes liked the scent of vanilla.

“Be careful riding that death machine,” you told him, biting on your lip before you made your way to the building. You hopped on the stairs to push the exterior door to get into the building, and pressed a hand on your chest, closing your eyes.

Why were you so giddy all of a sudden?

You threw your shoulders back and got into the elevator to press on the button to your floor. As soon as the elevator started to move, your reflection in the mirror caught your attention and you tilted your head.

Chloe had a point, it was a nice dress.

The elevator made a small noise and the doors slid open for you to pass, but when you entered the hall you stopped dead on your tracks. There were four agents waiting on your doorstep and before you could question what was happening, one of the doors in the hallways opened and Keith stepped out.

“Be careful riding that death machine?” he asked, “I could tell you the same thing but you didn’t invite him up here.”

“I wasn’t wearing a wire, how did you-?”

“We had a car around the corner just in case,” he said “You’d be surprised how far we can hear with these new gadgets.”

“I told everyone we can’t—“ you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing here and why are there agents at my doorstep?”

He grinned at you, “How do you feel about being neighbors?”

“I feel fuck no about it, and why are there agents—“

“General is waiting for you in your apartment.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “What?” you asked as you walked past him and opened the door to your apartment, then stepped in.

“General?” you rasped out as you walked into the living room to find him there, sitting by himself.

“Shrike,” he greeted you, “Good evening.”

You tried to smile, “Good evening sir.”

“I wanted to see how the mission was going,” he said, “Your team says it’s been very successful so far.”

“It’s going according to plan sir, yes.”

“This was what, your first date?”

You licked your dry lips, commanding yourself to be calm. “Yes.”

He hummed and stood up, running a hand over his gray beard, his eyes darting around the room.

“Y/N,” he murmured, making your head shot up at hearing your name instead of your alias. “It’s possible that the last time we talked face to face about your mission, I came across a little…uncaring. I want you to know that it’s not easy for me either.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“You’re like a daughter to me,” he said, “For me, putting you on this mission was no different than sending Chloe into Barnes’s bed. Granted you have an edge and proper training for field missions like these unlike her, but…”

Right. Manipulation of Enemy.

A.k.a the seduction class.

Your superior had almost failed you in that class.

“But all your superiors in the division is aware of your success so far,” he said, “There has been no hiccups, nothing to alert him which is a surprise. You’re playing your role well, and we will keep that in mind after this mission is over. You’re at the top of our list for possible handlers.”

For the first time in your life, that didn’t make you fill with excitement for some reason. You frowned at yourself and plastered a smile on your face.

“Thank you sir.”

“Anything you would like to report so far?”

“I’m going slowly in order to make sure I gain his trust,” you said, “But sir, there’s a reason why I didn’t even wear my earpiece tonight. Barnes is a pro, anything could make him suspicious and putting agents in cars to listen to us… That could go wrong.”

“You want to be completely alone on this mission?”

“I still want to have my team, but I want them to be completely invisible. I already have a tracker and an emergency signal on my wristwatch, but unless I specifically call for them, they need to be away. I can’t risk anyone compromising my cover, even if it’s unintentional by my team.”

He thought for a moment, “I see,” he said, “You make a good point. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

“Thank you General.”

He squeezed your upper arm as if trying to assure you and walked to the door, then turned around.

“Shrike?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’ve heard what happened to Marco, right?” he asked, “He was one of our best agents but got too involved in his seduction mission.”

You swallowed thickly, “I heard he’s missing.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, “That’s right. He was removed from his mission, then went missing.”

Killed.

He was killed by the agency when he fell for his target and both of you knew that.

“That’s unfortunate,” you managed to say and he nodded.

“It is,” he said, “Don’t make the same mistake. Actions have consequences.”

With that, he left your apartment and you let out a breath as you fell back to sit on the couch, your hands shaking.

“Yeah,” you muttered to yourself, “Yeah they do.”

Chapter 7 

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

all this time

omg so i have not written in forever but then the bestie @goldensonlyangel did a writing challenge (CONGRATS ON 800!!!!!!!!!) and i got inspired so here we are :) I know it's not super long but i like how it turned out!!!

as always, if you don't like the dress i linked, just imagine something else! that's just the visual I had in mind :)

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

"Macy, I don't have anything to wear," you sighed, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you poured a bowl of cereal. "You can borrow one of mine! Or i will literally buy you one. I'll do whatever it takes, you have to come!" "Why?" You whined. "I always feel so awkward. You know I love you, but everyone couples off and it's just weird." "But Harry's going to be there," she crooned, and you had never been more grateful that she couldn't see your face. Your face that was currently flaming hot at just the mention of him.

"I don't care," you lied. "He clearly doesn't like me, so I don't even want to try anymore." "You're wrong," she insisted. "We can all tell he has the biggest crush on you." "I don't think so," you said, even though your heart was fluttering at the idea. "Okay, I'll come. But you have to go shopping with me." "Of course!" She exclaimed. "Can we go right now?" "Give me an hour, and then I'll come pick you up."

-----

"How about this?" Macy asked, holding up the shortest dress you had ever seen. "That's basically just a shirt," you rolled your eyes. "Harry would love it," she grinned. "Harry won't care, because he doesn't like me," you said, trying to keep your voice level. You told yourself a long time ago that there was no point in getting your hopes up about him. You could never have him, so why hurt your own feelings? She shook her head, but seemed to get the hint that she should drop it for now. She pulled another dress off the rack, this time one that was much more your style. Your eyes lit up at her selection. "I like that one," you nodded. "I think it would look really good."

-----

"You look amazing!" She beamed, pulling you out of the changing room to stand in front of the full length mirrors. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips as you examined yourself in the mirror. "I do," you agreed. "Harry- I mean, everyone's going to love it," she said, blushing slightly at her slip up. You had to give her credit: she didn't give up easily.

-----

"You're here!!!" Macy screamed, rushing to the door and pulling you into a hug. "Of course I'm here!" you said, trying to match her energy. It wasn't an easy task; she had clearly had quite a few drinks tonight. She pulled away, holding you at arm's length to inspect your dress. "And you look amazing," she grinned. "Who helped you pick out that dress???" You smiled, shaking your head lightly. "I need a drink," you said, pulling back a bit more. "Of course!" she chirped. "Everything's set up in the kitchen. If you need anything else just find me!" Then she was off, pushing through the small crowd of people and right into the middle of the living room turned dance floor. You made your way to the kitchen, deciding you were much too sober to join her. You pushed open the door, hoping you would maybe see Bella, or Charlie, or any of the other girls you hadn't had the chance to catch up with lately. Instead, you ran directly into a broad chest belonging to none other than Harry, the man you'd had an unrequited crush on for years. "Oh- I'm so sorry!" you rushed out, grasping at the front of his shirt to steady yourself. He gasped slightly, reflexively gripping onto your arms to keep you from toppling over. "You alright?" he asked with a small smile. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your eyes on his chest as your face heated up to an almost painful degree. "Sure?" He asked one more time, ducking his head to meet your eyes. "I'm good," you said with a nervous laugh. "You can, um-" you glanced down to where his hands were still on your arms. "Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes going wide as he realized he was still holding onto you. "Sorry," he said, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he stepped back. "No, it's okay," you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "I'm just- I'm gonna get a drink." He laughed, running a ringed hand through his hair. "Good idea. I think I need one too." He moved to stand next to you as you browsed the large selection of alcohol on Macy's table. "I think she might have a problem," you joked. "We might need to stage an intervention," he nodded very seriously before his face broke into a smile. "But," you said, reaching for a bottle of tequila, "She keeps us stocked for parties, so I can't bring myself to care too much." "Agreed," he grinned, reaching for the vodka. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you poured your drinks, and then Harry spoke again. "You look lovely tonight." His voice was soft, and he sounded almost nervous. "Thank you," you smiled. "I'll be honest, I didn't really want to come. Macy said I had to." "For once, I'm glad she's so pushy," he laughed lightly. "If she wasn't, I wouldn't have gotten to see you." Your heart sped up at his words, and it took you a second to fully process what he had just said. "I'm glad too," you said softly. "Why, um..." He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Why didn't you want to come?" "It's always just a little weird, you know?" you said, keeping your eyes on the drink in your hand. "Everyone pairs off by the end of the night and I kind of feel like a... seventeenth wheel." "I know what you mean," he nodded. "Like, I'm happy all our friends have found love, or whatever, but I also hate them juuuust a little bit." He pinched his fingers close together, squinting at you through the tiny gap. "Just this much." "Well, I'm glad it's only that much," you laughed. "But wait, since when are you not part of a couple? I thought you were with Ellie?" "No, we were never really together," he said, looking down at his drink as you had earlier. "I mean, I liked her, but apparently she didn't feel the same. She went off with Paul." "Oh," you said quietly, not sure how to respond to that. "Paul. What a skank." "Such a skank," he agreed, breaking into a laugh again. The warm feeling in your chest was probably partly from the alcohol, but you knew it was mostly Harry. Seeing him so happy, being the one who made him laugh... there was no better feeling. The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence again,

sipping on your drinks every so often. By the time you finished, the music from the other room had quieted considerably. It was now a slow song, and you had no doubt that when you left the safety of the kitchen, you would find couples wrapped up in each other, too in love to care about anyone else. Just the idea of it was enough to kill your slight buzz, and you sighed involuntarily. Harry didn't appear to notice. He seemed to be deep in his own head, thinking about something. Before you got the courage to ask him what was on his mind, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. "Y/N... can I have this dance?" He held out one hand to you, the other sweeping behind his back in a formal gesture. You giggled at his attempt to act prim and proper, when you both knew that was the furthest thing from his real personality. "I would be delighted," you said, copying his tone as you put your hand in his. He led you out of the kitchen and onto the makeshift dance floor. Just as you had imagined, most of your friends were with their significant others, swaying slowly to the soft music. Harry pulled you close, resting his free hand on your waist, his fingertips brushing the skin of your back. You shivered at the feeling, reaching your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. "You know... I had a dream about you last night," he said, continuing to sway the two of you in a slow circle. "Oh yeah? What about?" He hesitated for a minute, looking into your eyes. "It was just like this," he said quietly. "Only better." "How was it better?" Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Because you were mine," he breathed. "I finally got my head out of my ass and asked you to be mine." You could barely breathe at this point. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you were sure harry could feel it from where his hand rested on your side. He didn't say anything though, he just keep his eyes on yours. "You want... you want me to be yours?" You asked, voice shaking slightly. "Would you?" He seemed just as nervous as you were. "I- yeah," you nodded, still staring at him. "I would." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I really like you," he admitted. "I have for a long time." "You have?" you asked in disbelief. "I've liked you for a long time." "Really?" He seemed just as surprised as you were. "We're really stupid, aren't we?" You laughed, dropping your head against his chest as you nodded. "We are." You felt him inhale deeply, and then his fingers were brushing your jaw, tilting your face back up to look at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, gaze flitting down to your lips before he met your eyes again. "Yes, you can," you said breathlessly. "Please?" He smiled, leaning closer and pressing his lips against your cheek. You nearly melted at the contact, brain short circuiting at the realization that Harry, the man you had loved for so long, felt the same way about you, and was standing here in your arms, about to kiss you. His lips lingered against your skin for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he sighed, giving you no more time to think about it before his lips were on yours. Your eyes slipped closed as his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer to him. He was gentle, his lips moving softly against yours as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder. He pulled back after a few seconds, resting his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh. "Can't believe i waited so long to do that," he sighed. "Neither can I," you said softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you finally went for it." "Me too."

[peakyscillian]

Break | Cillian Murphy x Fem!Reader | One Shot - Prompt |

Summary: Based off of the break up prompt lists. "I've thought about it. All night. And I think we both should take a break." & "I loved you. And I don't think I could ever forget you. Had things never gone south, I'd— I would've grown old with you. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore." Warnings: Language, heartbreak. Request: Anon. A/N: Okkkk I struggled to break up with Cillian because why would I?. This has a little bit of Joe Cole x reader as well. I'm so sorry if I also break your hearts wirth this! Let me know if you want to be on my taglist!

•Break•

You had given up and decided to head to bed once the clock turned to midnight, you were waiting up for your boyfriend. You'd been doing that alot lately. Cillian would wander in whenever he pleased, not letting you know where he was or had been. You were barely exchanging words when you were around each other, and the last time you'd been intimate was a distant memory.

The thought of not even having him try to kiss your face all over when he returned from a few weeks filming was enough to make you hiccup out a sob as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, you were losing him and you had no clue what had caused it.

You threw back the heavy duvet, climbing under it, you grabbed for his pillow it smelt just like him and you needed that right now,you needed to know you could have something of him close. The bedroom door opening and the light from the hall signalled he was back, you hadn't seen him since 7am that morning you were rushing out the door to work, had managed to slip a kiss to his cheek as he busied himself with making breakfast, he had grumbled a see ya later as you closed the door behind you.

Rolling over you watched as he undressed, dropped his clothes into the hamper just inside the wardrobe and headed for the bathroom, you heard the shower turn on, with a sigh you left the bed, opening the bathroom door you sat on the marble side, waiting for him to finish.

His blue eyes flicked over you as he stepped out, your eyes trailed over his body the carved out abs on his stomach, his broad shoulders all the working out for Peaky Blinders was paying off. "Do you even love me, anymore?" you asked arms folded across your chest, Cillian stopped dead in his tracks only moving to wrap a towel around his waist, the water dropping from his hair onto his back. His muscles flexed as his huffed out a breath ""I've thought about it. All night. And I think we both should take a break" his voice was calm, carefully measured he hadn't turned to look at you. Without a word you moved from the side, biting back tears you left the bathroom, heart shattering with every step. Grabbing the pillow you had been curled into you snatched your phone from the bedside table, the charger and your laptop. Cillian had appeared from the bathroom. You looked at him, the hurt evident on your face "I'll be gone tomorrow" you didn't look back as you left your shared room, heading for the guest room furthest away so he wouldn't hear your heartbreak even more. Sure enough the next mornig, you were gone and Cillian knew he'd made the biggest mistake. *** Cillian spotted you sat out on the terrace, of course you would be here, you'd spent years of your life around his castmate, years of friendship formed between you all. Of course you'd be celebrating Paul and Annie's engagement with them. He just wasn't prepared to see you with Joe, you hadn't spoke to him at all in the year since he broke up with you, you had made sure the house was cleared whilst he was away and you'd definitely diverted his calls. You were sat at the table, in a simple denim summer dress, your hair was shorter but it suited you, you were leaning in close to Joe, his smile was definitely down to you, you always knew how to make people happy. He knew how bad he'd treated you, how he'd left you wondering every evening at home, whether he'd return or not. The press and pressure of your age had got to him, he needed a private life craved one but the fact he'd stepped out with you half his age and so open had pulled his life into the spotlight, he couldn't deal with it so he had hurt you in the process. Helen and Natasha had told him about your relationship with Joe, with how it had all happened so naturally after you had reappeared from hiding away from them all, Joe trying his hardest to mend your heart. Sophie had been so angry with him, told him he was selfish and ridiculous to think anything outside of your relationship mattered so much that he had to break your heart that way. Cillian just hadn't expected to have to deal with seeing you curled into Joe's side, dropping kisses to his cheek the way you had with him and then you were walking up the path to the kitchen where he'd been hiding. You had stalled slightly at the sight of him, the sight of him there in front of you, after a year of avoiding him, you had childishly ignored his calls not wanting to hear him reason with you over his decision, not wanting to hear his stupid excuses. You walked past him, straight to the bathroom in the hall, stealing a few extra minutes to catch your breath after that familiar scent of his aftershave caught your senses and knocked the breath from your lungs. It had took you months to even want to speak to anyone about him, Helen had held you so many times as you sobbed, as you cursed her closest friend, wished him some kind of pain like the one he had caused you. Joe had took you out on a friend date, something to make you feel normal and then at the end of the night his lips had brushed yours and you felt so many emotions, you'd cried right there on your doorstep, he wrapped you tight in his arms, rocked you on the sofa whispered promises you weren't sure you could believe.

You had believed them though, you'd let him in even with the fear of judgement from others, about moving on within the group but he had brushed all those fears away, he'd let everyone know when you were ready and the support was enormous everyone just wanted you happy. Cillian was waiting outside the bathroom, he need to speak to you, he needed to hear your honey coated voice once more, it had been too long. "Hi y/n" he spoke softly not to make you jump. You smiled at him, not quite reaching your eyes "Hey Cill, how are you?" you had took the polite route, you didn't want to ruin Paul and Annie's day. Cillian had nodded sipping from his drink, a little shocked at how easily his nickname had left your lips "fine, yeah good, you?" You lent against the wall "great thanks" you bit at your lip eyes darting across his face, his hair was longer his preffered style, he looked tired but you knew he'd be out in New York filming for a new movie, Helen sometimes couldn't help but mention him. "does he treat you right?" Cillian couldn't help himself, he needed to ask. You let out a small laugh "He does thank you for the concern, but really you didn't exactly treat me right towards the end"

He deserved that he knew he did but it didn't hurt any less "You never let me apologise for that" You simply rolled your eyes "I loved you. And I don't think I could ever forget you. Had things never gone south, I'd— I would've grown old with you. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore" you pushed away from the wall, heading back out into the garden. Cillian watched you go, watched as Joe greeted you half way back to the table, concern on his face, he watched as you reassured him, kissing him hand squeezing at his arm, he knew that touch he knew how that felt and he had to try his hardest to hold back his emotions as you turned to look right at him, giving him a small smile before taking your seat again. Cillian made his way to his own seat, next to Finn and Sophie who turned to include him in the conversation, his heart pounding at the fact he really had lost you now, and he only had himself to blame. *** Taglist. @queenshelby @cloudofdisney @janelongxox @datewithgianni @elenavampire21 @magicalpieex

[gammija]

How the Web helped Magnus mark his Archive

Have you ever seen people talk about how the Web was involved with getting Jon marked, but didn’t feel like going through every episode to find every little reference to spindly spidery legs? Well, worry no more! Because in this list I’m going to do just that. With quotes, ‘cause I never half-ass theories on tma

In chronological(ish) order, ranging from: - Undeniably Spider-involved - Suspiciously Web-adjacent - (and Web!Tapes propaganda) Let’s go!

- 22, 123: Prentiss being in Carlos Vittery’s basement

Martin may be the one who lead Prentiss to the Institute, but only because Prentiss was hanging out in Vittery’s cobwebbed basement, for an unknown reason: 

022 Colony Martin: “I turned on my torch and shone it around, but was disappointed to see that all those spider webs that I remembered seemed old and unremarkable. If there were spiders there, none were easily seen, and… for a second I thought that the only interesting part of my return trip was that it would land me in prison if I wasn’t careful. Then, I heard movement. From the other side of the basement.”

The same Vittery who had already told Annabelle about his experiences: 

123 Web Development Jon: “I-It’s apparently a list of people whose names appeared in the various pieces of text Mr. Cox was pasting into the code. It’s unclear if they were meant to be users or victims, but I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery.”

Which might mean nothing if it weren’t for:

- 38, 40: A spider lets Prentiss be found

Not only does a spider cause Jon to knock down the wall to where Prentiss was hiding in the tunnels...

038 Lost and Found Sasha: “A spider?” Jon: “Yeah. I tried to kill it…. the shelf collapsed.”

...But according to Tim’s speculation:

040 Human Remains Tim: “I think they were almost all in the Archives. I have a theory, actually. I think they weren’t ready to attack when you found the tunnels.”

Which, if true, means that if the wall hadn’t been broken, Prentiss might’ve attacked with bigger force and killed Jon outright, instead of neatly marking him.

- 35, all of s2: A Web table lets a Stranger into the Institute

Although it’s never said who or what ordered the table to be delivered, the addition of the Web lighter with it makes it easy to guess. As Jonah says in 160:  the Not!Them mark turned out not to have been necessary because of the Unknowing, but this was certainly a nice back-up to have. 

- 80: Jon steps out for a smoke

Giving Jonah the opportunity to brutal pipe murder Jurgen.

080 The Librarian Jon: “I’m going to have a cigarette. Don’t… Don’t.” [...] [SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PIPE MURDER] [...] Jon: “Sorry, I’ve been quit for five years now, but th -”

While nothing in the actual text of the episode points to Web involvement, addictions like smoking fall under their domain. Add to that the recent gift of that lighter, and Jon saying he didn’t smoke anymore, it’s certainly suspicious.

- (91: Daisy only went to the Institute when she got the tapes

Okay, this one is mostly web!tapes propaganda, but I think it’s compelling web!tapes propaganda. I’d link the post I made about this earlier, but it has simply vanished from this universe, as far as tumblr is concerned... In any case: 

091 The Coming Storm Daisy: “You ask me to take a tape over to this murdering freak, and I’m all set to tear you a new one for it. But then I get the cassette in my hand, and suddenly all I want to do is deliver his tapes, and spill my guts.”

If it’s from Jon, not only would this be the furthest reaching compulsion by far, in only in season 2 no less, but it would also be the only one that is transmitted via the tapes/another person outside of the Institute(Basira) instead of just Jon speaking directly to the person. While, if it’s the Web’s doing, making someone want to do something they don’t realize is weird at the time, is totally in their wheelhouse! And it’d make them responsible for convincing Daisy that Jon’s a monster, ergo, his Hunt mark.)

- 121: Oliver was sent by the Web

121 Far Away Oliver Banks: “Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure why I’m here. But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks.” 

Aka, the man who told Jon what he needed to hear to wake up, nice and alive and marked by both the Stranger and the End, when he hadn’t been able to for 6 months.

- (130: The Web leads Jon to Jared)

130 Meat Jon: “I found this tape tucked in a corner of my desk drawer, covered in cobwebs. I suppose subtlety has gone out the window a bit, and the question is now simply… how much I trust the Spider to have my best interests at heart.”

Not only did this one tape lead Jon to get his Flesh mark, which Jonah had conked up by getting Jared to the Institute too soon, but arguably it also made Jon confident enough to go into the Buried. Which the rib didn’t even help with!  What did help though, was...

- (134: Tape recorders and Martin got Jon out of the Buried)

Even if you don’t believe that the tapes are from the Web, there’s still this conversation: 

134 Time of Revelation Peter: “What does – puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is – why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while Jon was in there.” - Martin: “I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it – it might help him… find his way out.” Peter: “Interesting. Were you compelled?” - Martin: “I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it. [But] I’m not sure where the idea came from. Peter: “You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous.”

Implanting ideas in someone’s mind, specifically making them want to do something, without them knowing that the idea is coming from outside, is something the Web isn’t a stranger to (056, 059). It might also be the Eye, but wouldn’t Martin know what an Eye compulsion would feel like, by now?  On a meta level, it’s a curious thing to point out. Would anyone have protested if Martin got the idea of the tapes on his own?

And there you have it! 8 instances of arachnid involvement.  There are more small mentions of Web-like interference with Jon here and there in other episodes, and of course his first Fear mark in 081, but these are the ones that seem to very clearly point towards the Mother of Puppets, or some of her avatars, having helped Jonah in bringing about the end of the world. There’s still the question of why, what their ‘plan’ is now, but I’m sure we’ll find out about that soon enough - Dare I say, March 25th or earlier, even

[vs-redemption]

Ahhh I just discovered your blog and I love it so much! Sorry to be angsty right off the bat, but can I request an Aizawa x reader where he has to assure them that the reader's interests have value or something along the lines? I get shut down so often when I accidentally gush about stuff I find cool (ladybugs) so I'm unfortunately more reserved now but yeah :)

From Cindy: It is now two hours past my usual bedtime and I don’t think I’m going to make it much longer. Before I sleep though, I am posting this as promised. I did reread it a couple times, but my tired brain isn’t up to full capacity. I hope it’s okay. Also, please don’t let people make you feel bad about the things you enjoy. Seriously, I hate when people do that. There’s enough negativity in the word without the good stuff being taken away on top of that. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone else, like what you like and never be ashamed of it! ♥

Ladybugs Aizawa x Reader

Everyone has those certain things they avoid revealing about themselves at the beginning of a relationship, romantic or otherwise, for fear of scaring the other person away. In some extreme cases, people might want to keep those parts of themselves hidden forever. For you, it was a particular hobby of yours being revealed too soon that made you a little cautious when meeting new people. You had a ready list of suitable answers stored in your brain for the inevitable moment someone asked you about your interests. It wasn’t like you were into something taboo or anything like that. It’s just that you’d been on the receiving end of enough judgmental looks to know it was better to keep that particular information to yourself.

When you first started to get to know Aizawa, you’d stuck to topics you knew he’d be able to relate to like music, movies, and books. It was easy enough to find common ground that way and you wouldn’t have to worry about him thinking you were some kind of weirdo. This strategy worked well for you and it wasn’t long before the amazing man was asking to be your boyfriend. Things between the two of you were really great, and on the random day when he called you up and asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and take a walk in the park, your secret pastime was the furthest thing from your mind. You were just looking forward to having a fun date with the guy you were slowly falling in love with.

“The weather is so nice today!” You sigh happily, walking hand in hand with Aizawa through the park he’d taken you to.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he tilts his head toward you with a content smile, “I got lucky having today off.”

“You really do work way too hard, Shota,” you tell him seriously. “Between your classes and hero work it’s a wonder you have any free time at all.” He lets out a laugh and nods his head in agreement as a planter full of flowers on the side of the path you were walking on catches your eye. Aizawa notices the shift in your attention and slows down a little so you both could admire them.

“They plant new flowers in this park every couple months,” He mentions offhandedly. “It’s one of the reasons I enjoy coming here. Do you know what kind they are?”

“Geraniums,” you answer automatically as your eyes scan over the plant, a smile growing across your face as you spot a ladybug crawling over one of the leaves. You let go of Aizawa’s hand so you could crouch down and reach out to invite the insect into your palm. “Ladybugs are attracted to plants like this because there are plenty of smaller pests for them to feed on.” You turn to look over your shoulder at him as the ladybug crawls over your fingers. “Did you know they can play dead like possums do?”

Aizawa raises his eyebrows and before he has a chance to respond you realize what you’d said. You place the ladybug back onto the plant and stand up quickly, taking his hand into yours again and offering to continue your walk. Your boyfriend eyes you curiously as you lead him forward. Embarrassment washes over you and you internally berate yourself for being awkward. You try to go back to eating your ice cream normally, hoping to move past the moment quickly.

“I actually didn’t know that,” he replies after a pause. “I’m guessing they do that as a way to avoid getting eaten by predators?”

“Yeah,” you simply nod, knowing you could probably give an entire lecture on the topic but the thought of boring him to death held you back.

“That’s interesting,” Aizawa continues to watch you for a moment. “Are you really into gardening or something? You looked pretty excited for a minute. We can go back over there if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” You assure him with a smile. “I just… think ladybugs are kind of cool, but I know that’s a bit weird so…”

“I don’t think that’s weird,” Aizawa rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“Maybe,” you say after a small glance up at him. “Still, I’ve been told that it’s annoying when I go off on tangents and I don’t want to bother you.”

“Hey,” Aizawa stops walking and gives you a serious look. “You’re allowed to talk about the things that make you happy, especially around me.” He lets out a laugh of embarrassment of his own while giving your hand a squeeze. “You’ve never met any of my students but you let me rant about them to you all the time. Is that annoying to you?”

“No! Of course not!” You assure him, a smile blooming on your face. “It’s nice that you’re so passionate about your job and I like seeing the joy on your face when you talk about them.” Aizawa returns your smile and nudges your arm playfully.

“I feel the same way about you,” he confesses. “I want to know all about the things you love. If something is important to you, it’s important to me. And if it brings a smile to your face, that’s even better.” You both continue on your walk as Aizawa hums thoughtfully. “And honestly, nobody should judge you or make you feel like you’re not allowed to talk about things that interest you anyway. Your hobbies make you who you are and if everyone liked the same stuff, life would be extremely boring.”

“Thanks Shota.” You could tell he was being genuine by the look on his face, and it felt nice to have a bit of validation. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” He assures you, “I truly mean it. And unfortunately, there are always going to be people who try to make you feel bad for being happy, but it’s usually because they’re unhappy themselves. It’s easier said than done, but we have to try not to let people like that get us down.” Aizawa leans in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Just remember that you can always come to me to rant and rave about whatever you’d like.” The pep talk was short and sweet, but his words did give you a little more confidence. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more open about your unique interests in the future.

“So,” Aizawa speaks up again a moment later, “when did you start getting into ladybugs?” You smile at his question, hesitating for just a second before launching into the full story.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

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[lloydskywalkers]

hey idk if you’re doing requests but if you are can you give us the fluffy kai and lloyd sibling content we deserve?? like ummm maybe kai helping lloyd to do homework or something even tho they don’t go to school lmao 😂 i just need something pure :)

i am so very behind on replies but!! in my defense, i started a response for this, got about 10K words in, then realized i needed to give it an actual structure. this is not the 10K words one, but it is, technically, fluffy Kai and Lloyd sibling content? i hope it’s something along the lines of what you wanted :’D

Lloyd decides he wants his ear pierced at three forty-five in the debatable hours of the morning, which isn’t the oddest thing Lloyd has ever decided he desires at that time. But it isn’t usual, either, so Kai decides he probably does, at least, need to ask what brought this on as he begins superheating the edge of the needle so neither of them end up with tetanus, or something.

He’s a responsible brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell Lloyd no. That would require Kai pretending his own piercing never existed, which is impossible, since Lloyd was the one to help him out back when it got infected and Kai almost lost his entire upper ear.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “You were just being a baby about it.”

“Oh yeah?” Kai shoots back. “Look who’s talking. I haven’t even touched your ear yet and you’re already wincing.”

“You’re taking forever,” Lloyd says testily. “Why can’t you just pierce it already?”

“Excuse me for trying to make it look good,” Kai says. “But if you really want an off-center piercing, be my guest.”

“No, no, make it look good,” Lloyd protests, straightening where he’s sitting across the bedroom floor from Kai.

Fortunately, they’re in the monastery tonight, otherwise they’d be crammed into the bathroom, or wherever else in the Bounty they wouldn’t wake everyone up. They’ve stashed away in Lloyd’s room, since he’s the furthest from Zane and therefore the least likely to be caught, if something goes wrong. Not that anything’s going to go wrong, of course, but you can never be sure, with them.

“Where’d you want it, again?” Kai asks, as he squints at the tiny earring stud they scavenged from Nya’s bag. He figures she’d support this as a worthy cause enough not to mind. Hopefully.

“On the right side?” Lloyd drums his fingers on the edge of his knee, a bit anxiously. “I sleep on my left more often, so yeah, the right. Just — just the normal ear piercing, for now.”

“For now, huh,” Kai mutters, carefully measuring out rubbing alcohol over the earring, before deciding to drown it in the bottle, for good measure.

“Well, I might decide I want another,” Lloyd crosses his arms. He winces. “Unless Sensei or the others kill me for this, first.”

“Lloyd, if piercing your ear is the worst thing you ever do as a teen, I’ll give you all the piercings you want myself,” Kai says. “And if anybody gives you trouble about it, just make some snarky comment, like, ah—”

“An earring is better to be stabbed with than a knife?”

“…FSM’s sake,” Kai sighs, staring at the bottle of rubbing alcohol and briefly entertaining how it’d taste. “Sure. Why not.”

Lloyd doesn’t look entirely reassured, even with his fun little jokes. “It is better than being stabbed with a knife, right?” he asks. “Like, I can do knife-stab pain, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t hurt that bad, you know…?”

Kai rolls his eyes. “It’ll hardly hurt at all,” he assures him, as he reaches for the little cotton balls and soaking one in alcohol. “I promise. You’re a ninja. With the pain tolerance you have, you’re probably not even gonna feel it.”

“Uh-huh, if you say — hey!” Lloyd flinches back from his hand, eyes wide in betrayal.

“Would you relax, it’s just the alcohol,” Kai frowns, going for his ear with the cotton ball again.

Lloyd makes a face, but lets him dab the alcohol on this time. “It’s cold,” he complains.

“Keep whining about it and we’re going back to the clip-on earring plan.”

“No, no, I want them pierced,” Lloyd says quickly. Kai smothers a laugh at how he attempts to appear relaxed, swiping the cotton ball over his earlobe once more for good measure. Satisfied that Lloyd, at least, won’t suffer any immediate crippling infections, Kai grabs for the needle they’re using, soaking the tip in alcohol.

“You…you know what you’re doing, right?” Lloyd asks, suddenly apprehensive now that the needle’s come into play.

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?” Kai says. “I pierced Nya’s ears when she was younger. I would’ve pierced Jay’s the first week we met, but he chickened out last minute.”

Lloyd presses his lips together, hiding a laugh. “If you’d come up to me with a needle the first week we met, I probably would’ve booked it, too.”

“I wasn’t bad,” Kai huffs, kneeing him in the side.

Lloyd runs a hand through his hair, spiking the edges up as he scowls, pitching his voice deeper. “I’m gonna be the green ninja, and none of you losers better get in the way—”

“I never said that!” Kai exclaims, swatting Lloyd across the head as he cackles. “You watch it, or I might slip up with the needle.”

“Sounds like something a green gi-stealer would say.”

“You’re such a brat,” Kai grumbles, hiding the heat rising in his cheeks by busying himself with the earring packaging. “I never sounded like that. And you’re one to talk, with that squeaky little evil laugh you used to do.”

“Alright, I’m dropping it, I’m dropping it,” Lloyd says hastily, his teasing faltering at the threat of turning the tables.

Kai smirks, shaking his head. “Alright,” he says, flexing his wrist once. “I’m gonna ice your ear so it’s numb, then do the actual piercing. You want a count down?”

“Surprise me,” Lloyd says, his hands fisting anxiously in the edges of his sweatshirt.

“Sure thing,” Kai nods absently. “So,” he starts conversationally, as he presses the ice to the back of Lloyd’s ear. “What did bring this on? And don’t give me the teen rebellion thing — seriously, this time.”

Lloyd hesitates, then sighs. He bites his lip, his eyes staring somewhere beyond the ceiling. “I dunno,” he mutters. “I just remembered, the other day, that I’d thought they were super cool as a kid.”

Kai stifles the urge to remind him that he’s still a kid, and continues to listen instead, nodding at him to go on.

Lloyd makes a face. “I don’t know. The mission today was — it was dumb, and I didn’t like how I felt afterwards, so I guess I wanted to do something stupid.”

“Ah,” Kai exhales quietly. He’d had a feeling it was about the mission, but he couldn’t be sure. It hadn’t even been that bad, on the whole, but the sound of Cole’s head cracking against the floor was enough to escalate it right into terrible territory.

Kai’s still thanking his stars that Cole’s got such a thick head. Concussions aren’t fun, even when they do have the chance to treat them immediately.

“I just…I thought maybe it’d be nice to mess up on purpose, for once,” Lloyd continues, his voice quiet. “When I wasn’t trying not to.”

Kai’s frown deepens at that one, his hand hovering where he’s caught the edge of Lloyd’s ear, his thumb pressed against the end of the needle. His sudden concerns over Lloyd’s potentially earring-destroying, Oni/dragon blood are swept away by the plaintively depressing tone Lloyd’s using. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, hesitating.  

He understands the sentiment, of course — probably too well to really put into words. Kai’s not exactly a stranger to messing up. He’s definitely not a stranger to beating yourself up after you mess up, either. He also understands, too well, how it can all build up sometimes — the constant fear of failure, the pressure not to mess up.

Sometimes you’re just struck with the irrational desire to mess up on purpose out of pure spite. Kai gets that. And Lloyd’s at least rational enough to pick something that won’t hurt anyone, and is more likely to get a laugh out of them all, if anything. Kai tries not to roll his eyes fondly.

Plus, Kai would be lying if he said it doesn’t warm his heart that Lloyd’s come to him for it. Which he should, of course, Kai’d better have first dibs on Lloyd’s first piercing, but still. The sentiment, and all.

“Well,” Kai finally says, realizing he’s left Lloyd hanging. “I don’t know about messing up, because this looks pretty rad. But it was definitely your call, so remember to tell Sensei that when he sees it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lloyd takes a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, I’m ready. Stab my ear, Kai.”

“I already did, moron. Did you miss what I just said?”

Lloyd’s eyes pop open, and he blinks. “Huh? For real?”

“Told you,” Kai snorts. “Ninja pain tolerance. Ear piercing’s got nothing on Cole when he scores a hit on you in practice.”

Lloyd’s frozen for a moment, then he scurries over to the mirror, brushing his lengthening hair away so he can get a proper look at it. Kai hovers behind him, suddenly slightly anxious.

“Do you, um, do you like it? You can always take it out, if you don’t. It’ll close over on its own, and you can like, get an actual professional to do it—”

“Shut up, Kai, I love it,” Lloyd beams, tracing his finger over the little silver stud. “I look cool.”

Kai lets out a tiny breath of relief, smirking in satisfaction instead. “As close to cool as you can get, beansprout.”

“Whatever,” Lloyd rolls his eyes, before returning to admiring himself in the mirror. “You’re just jealous I have a super cool piercing, and you don’t.”

“Hey, I gave you that piercing,” Kai scowls. “Just wait until my ear finally heals, I’ll show you cool.”

“Gee, yeah, I can’t wait to see what cheap skull earring you infect yourself with this time.”

“Alright buddy, you’re toeing it dangerously close to the line,” Kai grabs Lloyd in a headlock, digging his knuckles into Lloyd’s thick hair as he yelps, struggling to pull himself free.

“Ow, hey, Kai, watch my ear—”

“Little jerk,” Kai finally releases him with a huff.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me forever,” Lloyd replies, making a face as he brushes his hair back into place.

“Plenty of time to watch you make more mistakes, then,” Kai replies, easily.

Lloyd briefly tenses up, his expression working. Kai slings an arm around his shoulder, briefly squeezing.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lloyd,” he says, gently. “Cole’s gonna tell you the same thing, ten times over.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Lloyd murmurs, staring at the rug. “I got it.”

Kai eyes him for a brief moment, then shakes his head, carefully flicking the edge of his ear. “This, however? Is definitely your fault. So don’t go selling me out when Sensei bites your head off for it.”

“I’m not a sellout,” Lloyd huffs. “This’ll be nothing. Wait ’til you see what he says about my tattoo, that’ll be the real meltdown.”

Kai barks a laugh out at that, sweeping the cotton balls back into the bag. He then pauses, Lloyd’s word choice hitting him.

“Hey, what do you mean, your tattoo.”

“Oh, would you look at the time—”

“Lloyd, I swear to FSM, if you went and got a tattoo without me—”

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 5.5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: wizards experiencing muggle items, one line about sexual temptation, illegal bribery

A/N: LMAO WHY IS THE HALF CHAPTER LONGER THAN CHAPTER 5 PLS THIS IS SO EMBARASSING

(Y/n) rubbed the sleep from her eyes, still tired despite going through her entire morning routine. Although she was exhausted, she also felt an extreme burst of excitement. Although she grew up wealthy for a small portion of her life, her parents had never liked to travel. They much preferred sticking to themselves and associating with other pure bloods. The furthest they had ever traveled was from their main home to their summer home and even then the two weren’t that far from one another. She nuzzled into Neville’s neck further, tightening her grasp around him as he carried her down the stairs.

When they got to the landing, he brought them to the main living room where everyone was waiting. She heard a familiar squeal causing her eyes to snap open just in time to see a camera flash.

“Sorry you guys are just so cute together! Plus who knew you were this adorable when you’re sleepy?” Twyla said, cooing as she walked over and pinching the girl’s cheek. She grumbled, smacking her hand away as she buried her head back in Neville’s neck.

“Twyla? What are you doing here? You’re coming too?” she asked, watching as the girl nodded, jumping in excitement. Her (e/c) eyes narrowed as she peeked at her. “Really? I also suspect that you requested this time off?” the blonde scratched the back of her neck, backing away from the girl slowly.

“Listen, (Y/n), baby, dear boss of mine. Permission to have time off in order to go to Italy?” she pleaded, flashing her a sickly sweet smile. 

“Request denied.” she replied almost instantaneously. She giggled some at the girl’s reaction, trying to keep the straight face she had going on. But she couldn’t, Twyla’s over dramatic scene she was causing was far too funny. “I’m only kidding Twy, there’s no one I’d rather spend time in a new country with. Well, maybe there is.” Neville squeezed at her thighs, lifting her up higher at the announcement. He went to tease her before Harrison cleared his throat, standing on a stool so the mass of people could see him.

“Alright well I’ve got some news.” he started but was cut short.

“Good or bad?” the twins said in unison, glaring at each other for having the same thought.

“Well, it’s news. Because there’s so many of us, it’d be a bit strange for us to use floo powder. It’d cause way too much attention which would already have people quite suspicious about our visit.” he said, clasping his hands together. “Which means we’ll be using muggle transportation.” The main eight chimed up, all their speech lapping over each other. Twyla whistled, causing them all to stop speaking. “Thank you. Now if there’s any questions, please ask them one at a time.”

“How the hell are we gonna drive to Italy?! Can cars go in the water?” Seamus blurted out, causing everyone in the room to give him a disappointed look. Ron smacked the back of his head, letting out a troubled sigh.

“Whoever said there was no such thing as a dumb question must’ve never met you, Finnegan.” Harrison said in a fake sweet tone. “We’re going by plane which means we’ll need to go through the muggle airport.” Neville cleared his throat, causing everyone to turn their attention to him.

“And what about our guns? Weapons? Correct me if I’m wrong, but those can’t be taken through airport security.” he said, everyone else to make noises of agreement. The bearded man sucked on his teeth, releasing a soft breath.

“Well, we’re all smart, capable people. Plus you know muggles, money talks with them. Shouldn’t be too hard to get ourselves through with our weapons intact.” he said, causing everyone to go into thought about what they’d do to evade security. “Any more questions?”

“Yeah, how long are we going to be there for? I sorta have a job.” Twyla said. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, squinting them at the back of the girl’s head which caused a small jolt of electricity to shock her. She let out a yelp, glaring knowingly at the girl. “I know that was you!”

“Alright if there’s no more questions, let’s get to the airport!”

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

As they got out of the car, (Y/n) looked around in awe. The airport had to be one of the busiest places she’d ever been, and she attended Hogwarts. Many different tunnels, windows, and levels all stacked as high as her sight could reach. The worst part of it all was the abundance of people, especially with them being muggles. It wasn’t that she disliked them, it was more so she feared them. She constantly felt anxious like they could see right through her and would call her out on the spot. As she felt her breath get shallow, she ran up to Neville clinging to his arm as they walked. He looked down at her smiling before intertwining their fingers.

She gasped as the door walked open automatically as they went through, eyes growing wide. Neville heard the noise looking down at her. She gave him a confused look. “I thought you said there was no magic here?” she said, confused by how the doors were doing that. He chuckled some, pecking the top of her head.

“There isn’t. It’s all muggle technology. If you think that’s cool, I’m curious what your reaction to the plane will be.” 

(Y/n) kept close to the tall man’s side, ignoring the weird looks they were receiving. She couldn’t blame them. Her and Neville were complete opposites. It was as if they both climbed out of two separate books and had formed a new one which in a way, they had. Everyone continued to follow Harrison, watching as he slid a large numbered bill to the man. He moved out of the way, letting them skip the line before they got to the metal detectors. (Y/n) began to sweat nervously knowing that every single man with her right now was fully armed and loaded.

“I’ve got this, don’t worry mini boss!” Seamus said, walking up to the front of the line. Neville groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He cleared his throat as he stepped up to the short man in the uniform. The man crossed his arms, glaring up at him. “Hello…” he trailed off, looking at the nametag on the man, “Alfredo! Listen, why don’t you be a champ and let us by?” he said, handing the man a few 20s. However, he didn’t budge.

“You think I’m going to let you through for 40 bucks?” he snapped. “I happen to take my job as an airport security member very seriously. I’d have half the mind to call the cops on you right now for not wanting to follow the mandatory metal detector procedure.” At this point the girl was shaking. Blaise rolled his eyes, walking up to the man. He gave him a charismatic smirk. Grabbing the man’s hand he placed a kiss on his knuckles.

“Alfredo, right?” he asked, watching as the boy nodded along in a trance. “Charmed. I’m Blaise Zabini. Listen, I know my friend here insulted your character and you seem like a very nice, good boy,” he purred, staring into his eyes intently. Whipping out his wallet he pulled out four hundred dollar bills tucking them into the boy’s front pocket, leaving his hand to linger there. “So why don’t you let us through, yeah? And maybe when I come back you can give me a call.” The boy stumbled behind the machine, looking both ways before turning off the sensors. They all began to quickly file through before anyone would notice. Blaise being the last one threw the man a wink before catching up with his friends.

“That’s not fair! Blaise has pretty privilege!” Seamus whined, causing Fred to snort.

“Perhaps you should invest in some then. You seemed like you could use it back there.” he said, snickering as George joined in. Draco even gave a few chuckles before covering it with a cough.

(Y/n) looked around the airport, still curious about everything. Sure Hogwarts had a few moving floors and stairs that moved but these were..different? Maybe they were some more of that muggle technology Neville had mentioned earlier.

“You see that?” the boss said, pointing to a set of the moving stairs. She nodded, continuing to eye them curiously. “Those are called escalators. You stand on them and they move. We’re about to get on one in a second!” she gulped at that but nodded.

“U-um, will you hold my hand on it? It’s kinda scary..” she asked, jumping in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her into his chest, embracing her tightly.

“God, you're so precious. Of course I’ll hold your hand.” he reached his hand out, grabbing her smaller one in his large one. As they neared it, she found she wasn’t as nervous as she had been previously. Especially not with the twins running up the wrong side, screaming at each other in confusion about why they weren’t moving anywhere.

“They seem to be out of order!” George said, continuing to run up them. Ron turned around glaring at his pathetic older brothers.

“They’re not broken, you’re just on the wrong side, idiots! Why do you think we got on this one?” he yelled to them, watching as they froze. As they reached the landing again they ran up the correct side, giving Ron a smack on the back of the head as they passed him.

“Oh you know, for flavor!”

As they neared the terminal, her eyes began to sparkle with curiosity. Even though the majority of it was covered by the window panes, she could see bits of the different planes in between.

“Alright for most of you, this is your spot. The boarding should be beginning soon so keep an ear peeled.” Harrison said. The extra men that had come with the nodded before making their way to the long line. They looked very out of place compared to everyone else in line. Although some had disguised themselves in Hawaiian shirts, a lot of them still adorned their usual attire of all black suits. (Y/n) went to join them but was pulled back, the tattooed man giving her a look.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To get on the plane? I thought we were taking one?” she said, a lost look on her face. He smiled at her, dragging her along.

“Oh we are, we’re just taking one of our own.” he said, a smug look present on his face. She went to ask him what he meant but stopped as they made it to a private section of the airport, walking straight through a terminal with no line. 

“Woah! This is yours, Nev?” she asked, running around the interior. It was larger than she thought it’d be. There were a few couches inside along with a few cushioned chairs. Tables were embedded into the ground, stationed around the various seats.

“Yep! All mine, petal. Only the best for you, pretty girl.” Her heart began to race at the name, looking back at him with a smile. 

“Geez, he really is Mr.Moneybags! This thing is loaded, bigger than any plane I’ve ever been on.” Twyla chimed, throwing herself onto one of the couches with a sigh. Draco took a seat beside her, lifting her legs into his lap.

“I have one too, you know.” he said, causing her to jerk up. Giving him a teasing smile, she pinched his cheek lovingly.

“Aww! Dray’s so cute when he’s jealous! C’mere!” she said, lunging forward onto the man as she covered his face in kisses. (Y/n) giggled some letting out a small scream as a pair of arms pulled her back. Neville nuzzled his nose into her neck before littering kisses all over her face.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You look so cute when you’re excited.” she smiled at his words, hiding her face in his chest. She still had yet to ask him about the room situation. There was only 2 hours till they were set to land so if she wanted to get it out, she had better do it soon.

“Hey Nev? I-I-I was wondering i-if you wanted to maybe..maybe um...share a room together?” Neville froze at the words, the movement of his hands ceasing. Had she really just said what he thought she had? So many thoughts were running through his head, some less savory than others. “I just thought it would be nice. I know you’ll probably be busy during the day so I-I’d enjoy being able to be with you at night. N-not like that! I just-”

“Of course, baby. I’d love to.” he said, turning her around so he could place a kiss on her lips. Before he could begin to deepen it, a childish chorus of ooo’s echoed across the plane. He pulled away, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his gun. “I’m not above using this. I don’t care how high we are.”

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

An hour into the flight, things had really taken off. During the small duration of time, many blunts had been rolled, meals had been eaten, and alcohol had been consumed. (Y/n) found herself looking out the window, admiring the way the clouds flew by them seemingly weightless. Her attention was pulled away from the sound of a glass breaking along with a loud thud. Seamus was on the ground, his shirt tied around his shoulders like a cape. 

“I don’t think I can drink another round. You two win.” he said, commending the twins for their effort. They exchanged a look before beginning to cackle.

“We were drinking water the whole time! Do you really think we’d drink 14 shots a piece?! Man, what a moron you are, Finnegan.” Fred said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. George nodded along, slapping his knee in amusement.

“Right before we have to scope out the place too? Boss isn’t gonna be too happy with you.” he said in a sing-song voice. (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. She knew what it was like to go and mess things up before something important. Lifting her purse, she began sifting through it carefully, stopping once she found what she had been looking for. Walking over to the boy she handed him a small potion vile.

“Here, drink this. I always give this to Twyla when she shows up black out at my house. It should sober you up in a few minutes.” The boy looked at her like she was a god before drinking the thick liquid.

“God, who knew the boss would get such a useful girlfriend? Thanks (Y/n)! ‘Ppreciate it.” he said, handing her the now empty bottle. Her face began to heat up at his words.

“O-oh I’m not his-”

“(Y/n)! Come here, I wanna show you something.” he said, motioning her over to the chair. She nodded before walking over to him, sitting in the chair. “Okay, ready?” he asked, waiting for her approval. She nodded, sending him a smile. With a press of a button, the chair she was in began vibrating, light pressure being applied to her back. She practically purred at the feeling, closing her eyes.

“What is this?” she asked, words bumping together from the sensation of the chair. He chuckled before sitting beside her, grabbing her hand in his.

“It’s called a massage chair. It’s a muggle invention. Nice innit?” he asked, watching as she purred some more, nodding brainlessly. His eyes traveled over her relaxed expression, tracing all the curves and contour of her face. However, he couldn’t help the tightening of his pants when she began to moan in pleasure at the feeling of the muggle device. If he could barely get through this, how was he supposed to survive an entire mission with her? Especially one where they’d be sleeping in the same bed, every night? 

“Showers, a lot of cold showers.” he muttered to himself. He smiled once he realized she had fallen asleep, deciding to join her in slumber.

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[carry-the-sky]

Hi could you do 14. touch on a bruise for brio please?

ahhh thanks for sending this one in!! have some post-s3 angst, hahaha. :)

(also on ao3)

.

The next time she sees him, he’s bleeding.

Okay, maybe not actively, but the jagged line of stitches etched above his ear looks like it’s seconds away from ripping open. Beth takes in the nasty bruise blooming along his jawline, the cut splitting his bottom lip.

“Um,” she says.

Rio smirks. “What’s up?”

“I—” she sputters, because he’s just standing there with that stupid, smug expression, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to drop by the showroom after hours looking like—that. “You—what happened?”

“Not your division, darlin’.”

He says it lightly enough, but Beth reads the undercurrent of warning in his voice like a neon sign. He wants her to drop it.

Well. She’s not feeling very incentivized to give him what he wants at the moment.

“It is when you bring that”—she pointedly eyes the stitches—“into my showroom. Those look awful, by the way. Did he do them?” She juts her chin toward Mick, who’s lurking in the doorway.

The two men share a look, and Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe I did,” he grumbles. “YouTube’s got tutorials for everythin’.”

Beth glances between them both. She’s about to open her mouth—to say what, she has absolutely no idea—when Mick snorts, shaking his head at the same time that Rio’s mouth twists into a grin.

“Nah,” Rio says, still smiling as he casts a glance back at Mick. “Nah, he didn’t. Your concern’s duly noted, though.”

Mick makes another sound in his throat that he quickly covers by turning it into a cough. Beth’s face flames, but she draws herself up and meets Rio’s gaze head-on. Let him try to get a rise out of her—she knows better than to take that bait.

“Fine. What can I do for you, boss?” she says, spitting out that last word like it’s acid.

Rio’s eyes fall to the floor, but Beth can still see the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he knows he got under her skin. Like he’s won. For one furious second, she imagines how hard she’d have to hit him to split his lip, leave a bruise. She imagines hurting him and liking it.

But she doesn’t really have to, does she? Beth still remembers the weight of his gun in her hand, how the recoil from pumping the trigger once, twice, three times made her hand ache for days afterwards. She remembers him choking on his own blood, the sound of it filling up the loft—

No. No, she hadn’t liked any part of that. It’s a catch twenty-two; she hates him, she wants him dead, gone and out of her life, his name crossed out in permanent ink, but then—sometimes she doesn’t. It’s the not-knowing that keeps her circling the drain, pushing that damn boulder up the hill only to watch it come crashing down again and again.

She thinks she might hate that even more than she hates him.

Beth blinks, coming back to the office. Mick’s staring her down like a hawk, but Rio’s gaze is more appraising, head tilted to the side in a gesture that’s so familiar, so him, it makes her stomach flip.

“Just here for my cut,” he says, as nonchalant as if they’re discussing the weather. She hears the unspoken words as clearly as the night he said them—you, me, we. It’s just business.

Beth holds his gaze a second longer, then tugs a black duffel out from under her desk. She hands it off, dropping the straps like they burned her to avoid brushing her hand against his when he takes it from her. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

“What, no mama bag this time?” he says, then presses his lips together like he’s trying not to grin.

Beth glares at Mick, who just shrugs. She snaps her eyes back to Rio, barely managing to unclench her teeth before asking, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mick’s gonna check the books.”

Of course he is. Beth isn’t exactly shocked, but it still feels like a slap on the wrist, another reminder that there’s a hierarchy and she’s the furthest thing from sitting on top. Even this, the operation she pieced together herself, the system she built on equal parts desperation and determination—even this isn’t hers.

You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king.

Yeah, she tried that. Technically she’s still trying, but she shoves that thought down deep and ignores the twinge in her chest.

Rio’s already turning to go, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Next week, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he’s glad he can pawn her off on someone else because he has better things to do with his time, or maybe the stress and exhaustion from these past few months are finally cracking her foundation—the reason doesn’t really matter. Beth can’t—won’t—let him have the last word.

“You should really get those stitches looked at,” she says.

He pauses, then looks back at her. In the low light, his eyes almost look black.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, and the words hang between them for a moment, heavy as a loaded gun.

Beth swallows. “Still. They could get infected.”

Something slides across Rio’s face, sharp and predatory. It’s the look he gets when he sees an opportunity, and Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Yeah?” he says, turning around so that he’s facing her again. He drops the duffel, and Beth can’t help flinching at the thud it makes when it hits the floor. “Sounds like you’re volunteerin’.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he’s moving, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Beth’s eyes dart to Mick, but he just arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the list of sales projections he’s been checking.

Rio leans back in his seat. “A’ight, doc, fix me up.”

Beth stays where she is. The irritation that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since he walked through the door is reaching its boiling point, but there’s something else humming under her skin, crackling like a live wire. He can leave whenever he wants—he was halfway out the door a second ago—but instead he chose to stay.

They’re circling the same drain, each of them waiting to see who will get sucked under first.

“I’ll—get the first aid kit,” Beth says, stepping around the desk only to be stopped in her tracks by Mick, who clears his throat audibly and pulls his jacket back to reveal the Glock tucked against his side.

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? You think I’m stupid enough to try something with both of you here?”

Rio doesn’t answer, just fixes her with an amused look.

“Fine,” Beth snaps, taking a step back. She nods at Mick, tips her head in the direction of the door. “It’s in the bathroom across the hall.”

Mick gives her a two-fingered salute and ducks out of the room, and then it’s just her and Rio.

He’s still—watching her. He looks relaxed enough, legs spread a bit and his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and if Beth didn’t know better, she’d say the expression on his face is almost neutral. But she does know better. His eyes are what give him away, flashing with the same electricity that’s thrumming behind her sternum. He’s waiting for her to make a move. She knows, because she’s doing the same thing.

God, she hates how much she likes this.

She barely registers Mick coming back—it’s only when he tosses the first aid kit onto the desk that she jumps, startled back to herself.

“Thanks,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

Mick’s mouth twitches, but he goes straight back to the books, sinking into a chair in the far corner of the office. Beth rolls her own chair around the side of the desk, lowers herself slowly into a seated position beside Rio. This close, she can see each individual color in the whorl-patterned bruise that stretches up toward the hollow of his cheek. She lets her eyes drag across it, then up his temple. The stitches look—well, not great. It’s clear they were done hastily, probably to prevent as much blood loss as possible, but the wound is seeping.

“Damn, that bad, huh?” Rio asks, reading it on her face.

Beth stares down at the kit in front of her. Her first aid knowledge extends about as far as patching up a skinned knees and Benadryl for minor allergic reactions—removing possibly-infected stitches from her crime boss’ head isn’t even in the same zip code.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says, abruptly exhausted.

Rio adopts an expression of mock concern that does nothing to ease Beth’s urge to slap him. “Oh, no?” he says. “What part’s trippin’ you up?”

Beth shuts her eyes for a second, briefly wonders why the hell she didn’t let him waltz out of here when she had the chance—except she knows why, and so does he, and when she looks again—

He’s practically beaming, that smug tilt at the corners of his mouth dialed up about a thousand percent, and it’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. This is just another game—he’s messing with her, playing with his food before eating it.

The low buzz of electricity inside her ignites.

He’s not the only one who’s hungry.

“No, you’re right,” she says, popping open the first aid kit and digging around until she finds the antiseptic wipes. “I should at least clean those stitches up. Maybe even remove them, start fresh.”

She glances up, and that’s the only reason that she sees him falter, a blink-and-miss-it record-scratch behind his eyes before he recovers, slides the mask back on. Satisfaction floods through her. She can play his game.

“Whatever’s good, ma,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the boss, yeah?” He echoes her earlier emphasis on the word, grinning when he sees the barb land. “Shit, that’s my bad—poor choice o’ words.”

Beth rips open a wipe. “This might sting,” she says, pressing against his line of stitches, hard. She’s rewarded with him hissing a breath through his teeth, the hand at his knee balling into a fist.

“Easy, mama,” he grits out.

Beth flashes him her sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, is that too rough? I thought you liked that.”

Mick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Rio looks over, eyes bright with amusement. “Ay, cállate la boca.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” Mick mumbles, still staring intently at the books.

Beth presses her tongue behind her teeth, swallowing a pinch of annoyance as she switches tactics. “Aren’t crime lords supposed to have, I don’t know, some sort of medical professional on retainer? For situations like this?”

“Nah,” Rio says with a shake of his head. “Why, you gunnin’ for a promotion? ‘Cause I gotta say, your bedside manner could use some work.”

And something inside her roars, because this is how she’s going to get him. She dabs gently at the wound beneath his stitches, swiping a thumb over the sutures. Rio winces, jerks back—

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth leans forward. She brings the antiseptic up to his face again, stops just short of pressing it to his skin, as if to ask, okay?

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth starts at his temple, softly scrubbing at the caked-on blood that’s streaked down from the cut above his ear. Her hand moves lower, fingers gliding over his cheekbones, and she’s not sure if she imagines his breath hitching when she reaches the bruise at his jaw. She drags her thumb across it, then back again. His skin is warm, under the pads of her fingers.

“How am I doing now?” she breathes, barely above a whisper, and she knows she doesn’t imagine him dipping a glance down to her mouth. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to count the shades of brown in his eyes. Her fingers trace lower, toward the curve of his lips—

His hand comes up to grasp her wrist, tug it away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, low like thunder. A warning. “Don’t do that, Elizabeth.”

He’s looking at her again, but she almost doesn’t recognize the emotion swimming in his eyes. He’s—terrified. Of her. For a fleeting second she lets the thrill of it run through her, buoyant on the feeling of power, the feeling that she’s won—

(—she did it, she shot him, she’s free—)

The moment pops like a soap bubble, and she’s empty, hollow, everything good inside of her scooped away until this is what’s left. This is who she is. And maybe this game they’re playing was never meant to have a winner.

The realization leaves her numb.

She’s vaguely aware of Mick slipping the books back onto her desk, and when her eyes flick back up to Rio, his mask is firmly back in place. Steel, untouchable.

“I’m all better now, thanks,” he says, and then he’s pulling away, pushing up from the desk, slipping out the door. She watches his silhouette until it dissolves into shadow.

She’s alone.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 3

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read chapters one and two on Tumblr.

Chapter three summary: Sam and Bucky take a breather from Sharon’s party in High Town.

Sam walks back into the room from before. The one that could be a high-end boutique, or the lobby of a shady but untouchable law firm, or the backdrop for a photoshoot featuring an Avenger who wanted their surroundings to exude enviable elegance and expensiveness without at all detracting from their presence. Not to name names, or speak disdainfully of the dead.

Shrugging off the brown leather jacket Sharon leant him, Sam tosses it at the couch. Yeah, technically it’s on a collision course with the back of Bucky’s head, but since Bucky dodges without turning to look, he figures he can claim poor aim. Which Sam would normally never do, especially to Bucky, but he has downed a few drinks tonight. Sharon wanted them to blend in at the party; Sam couldn’t see an easier way to blend than by doing his bit to deplete the contents of the event’s bar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there pumping his arm to the beat like that motherfucker Zemo. Sam doesn’t know exactly what to blame for the Baron’s excruciating dance moves, he’s just glad he got away. Being near enough to Zemo for people to assume they were acquainted? Come on. That’s just insult on top of injury.

Bucky’s head swivels to follow him once Sam tracks into his line of sight.

“Where’s Zemo?” is the first thing he says.

Sam avoids his gaze until he’s good and comfortable on the couch at his side. It’s closer than he meant to be, since the damn thing has a curve to it, but the chairs don’t look comfortable. Unless, he supposes, you’re a percher, like Sharon. Sam doesn’t perch.

To cover for the fact that he picked his seat without thorough reconnaissance and is, with his inhibitions a little lower than usual, both far too nervous and not nearly nervous enough, Sam spreads his knees to take up even more of the couch, draping his arms along the back. Finally, he glances at Bucky.

“Sharon’s doing her shift as babysitter,” Sam says.

“Hasn’t she done enough?”

“You wanna go back down there and spell her, be my guest.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, “I think I’m good.”

Bucky’s jacket is gone too, Sam notes, moving his own from where it landed to the chair opposite. Briefly, he lets himself be curious. Why does Sharon have a wardrobe of men’s clothes in enough sizes and styles to reasonably clad himself, Bucky, and Zemo for the evening? Are these things expensive? Are they valuable, like the Monet he saw on the way in? Maybe the clothes on his back belonged to some celebrity and are set to be sold off to the highest bidder. If that weren’t a selling point before, it could be now—everything itemized and tagged as having been worn by Sam Wilson, the Falcon, the Man Who Wouldn’t Be Captain America.

In the short silence, Sam feels himself beginning to frown, but he’s just the right side of buzzed to prevent those thoughts from dragging him down. He’s a cheerful drunk. Always has been. A hugger, a giggler, a piggyback ride-giver in his younger years.

“Do you think she’s doing alright?” Bucky asks, forever ready to be morose. “Sharon?” Sam wants to stick his finger in the indentation between Bucky’s eyebrows and wiggle it until the seriousness drops from his face. He wants to smooth his thumb over Bucky’s chin, wipe out the memory of Zemo’s touch when he offered Bucky to Selby like a thing instead of a human being. “I know she took your deal, a favour for a favour, but I’ve been trying to work out what my debt to her is. My notebook—”

“There’s no math for it, Buck,” Sam says. Though his tone is lazy, his words are certain. “Who owes what to who. We just have to make it right.” Mildly annoyed that he’s been drawn back into a heavy conversation, he sighs and slings his foot up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee. The movement bumps Bucky’s thigh momentarily. “Think I might owe Sharon a little less now that she made me wear a turtleneck to that party.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. Sam turns his head and gives him the finger, though he’s also smiling.

“I’m laughing at what you said,” Bucky claims, “not the shirt. You coulda picked something else.”

“It’s black and doesn’t have a pattern. After that Smiling Tiger getup, I felt like being inconspicuous, ok?”

“Ok. You don’t need my approval.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Sam agrees, still grinning.

“Suits you,” Bucky half-mumbles.

Sam huffs from his nose, all his laughter in that puff of air as he faces forward again, then tips his head back to check out Sharon’s high ceiling. With nothing but night through the tall windows and the room under-illuminated by the two lamps either left on by their host or switched on by Bucky, the ceiling’s dark grey instead of white. Shadowy. Unlike the menacing shadows that seemed to stretch after them on the streets of Low Town, sending an unpleasant tickle up the back of Sam’s neck, these are soft. It’s a surprisingly peaceful end to the day, considering what the past 24 hours have encompassed. Suddenly, Sam feels as though he’s been awake a long, long time. Doesn’t mean he’s ready to sleep yet.

“So,” he says, “downstairs. Why’d you leave? Most date-like thing we’ve done yet and I tear my eyes away from the trainwreck of Zemo’s dancing to find you gone.”

“The noise, the crowd, Zemo,” Bucky emphasizes, “like you said.”

“You brought him.”

“I know, I just…” Bucky slumps forward and hangs his head, hands clasped between his knees. He turns pained eyes on Sam and Sam moves his hand from the back of the couch to Bucky’s shoulder. From there to his upper back. From a grounding pressure to a gentle rub. Just a couple times, but he doesn’t pull away, perennially touchy when less than sober. “I don’t want him to control me.”

“He doesn’t,” Sam says firmly. “You were yourself at Selby’s.”

“His version of me. I don’t like the reminder. I don’t want to find out if I’d do it again, in that crowd of people, attack someone just because he told me to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I’m trusting you not to.”

“Is that smart?” Bucky asks, expression raw. Sam can feel the heat of his back through his shirt.

“It’s not totally smart. Can’t be, with you involved.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and smiles and Sam wants to cheer.

“I don’t know about that date,” Bucky says lightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back into the couch once more. It was a t-shirt under that jacket of his and Sam’s gaze slides to his arms, trying to look without looking. Only because the Vibranium one isn’t on display a lot. That’s all.

“Oh, here we go.”

Sam’s amazed at how his complaint sounds in this room, in this light, on this couch. Like the ceiling, it’s soft.

“It was too loud.”

“The last thing you called a date was a fight on the top of a truck speeding down a highway. Wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Well,” Bucky tries again, “there were too many people.”

“Again, extra people weren’t a problem last time. Half a dozen Flag-Smashers, as I recall.”

“That was fun and all—”

“Which part?” Sam asks, smiling. “The part where you got hurled into a windshield by the woman you’d assumed was a hostage? Yeah, that part was fun for me too.”

“Can it.”

Bucky accompanies the words with a look that Sam could pick out a mile away as fake-grumpy. It cracks him up and he lifts his hand from Bucky’s back to shove his arm as he laughs.

“You called tonight a date,” Bucky says suddenly.

“No, I said… I said…” Sam squints at nothing as he retrieves his words in his mind. “Date-like.”

“Zemo got in my head and I got in yours.”

Instead of saying this miserably, Bucky looks quietly smug at his joke. Sam needs to set him straight; of course he didn’t think tonight was a date. With a massive bounty on their heads at the other end of Madripoor? With Zemo the third wheel always only an arm’s length away? And the current circumstances are beside the point because, fundamentally, Sam doesn’t know whether or not Bucky’s been joking from the start. Intentionally wrong-footing him, messing with him, like they’ve been doing as long as they’ve known each other.

“You’ve definitely done something,” Sam volunteers.

It’s his fourth drink talking, or maybe the fucking pickled snake organ he forced himself to swallow earlier. His jaw clenches fleetingly at the memory. Sarah’s gonna laugh her ass off when he tells her. Should be enough to balance out whatever ire she’ll be sending his way for that dumb shit he said about laundering money. Although she’ll get that he only said it to avoid getting shot (he won’t tell her how narrow that success was), she still won’t be thrilled that he made himself out to be a criminal. It’s the furthest thing from the kind of people the Wilsons are. He could always point a finger at how Bucky behaved—dropping everyone who ran at him with icily efficient twists and kicks—but he knows how Sarah would look at him, what she’d be thinking. That he and Bucky aren’t held to the same standard, externally or internally. That he talks about Bucky too often, so often that if he let his sister in on this stupid running joke they have about their ops being dates, she’d take it all wrong, think this was something serious and inevitable.

Sam swallows and laces his fingers together in his lap so he won’t reach out for Bucky again.

“I know I should’ve let you in on the plan to spring Zemo from prison,” Bucky says. Oh, he thinks Sam’s words were a subtle criticism, not an admission. That’s… good.

“But?”

“No excuses,” Bucky promises, stretching his neck from side to side. “I shoulda told you. Once I explained it, you would’ve seen that I was right and agreed with me.”

Sam gives the side of Bucky’s head a hard stare until he catches the smirk hiking his lips up on one side.

“Wow,” Sam says dryly, “that was almost you taking responsibility.”

“I take responsibility all the time.”

“The notebook, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe Zemo put his fuckin’ hands on something so private, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I get that it’s private,” Sam assures him, “but you can tell me shit. If you want.”

Bucky’s folded arms loosen and he shoots Sam a sideways glance that scans all over his face, measuring, cataloguing, computing with that cyborg brain Sam teases him about. Sam blinks back. He means it, and he meant it before when he said he’s trusting Bucky.

“Feels a little one-sided,” Bucky says.

“That’s because you won’t come home with me to meet Sarah and the boys. You already got your invitation into my personal life, you just haven’t used it.”

“We’ve been a little busy, Sam.”

Sam sighs loudly and pushes his sleeves up his arms against the warmth of the room.

“You can make time. Once we’re not on Zemo’s schedule.”

“He was supposed to be on ours,” Bucky mutters. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“It happened because you’re an idiot who didn’t tell me the plan.”

“It’s my fault we keep getting shot at.”

Sam ignores that, the happy looseness surging up inside him battling the gravity of Bucky’s self-pity.

“It’s your fault if you didn’t like the date,” he counters. “You got Zemo out of Germany, Zemo brought us to Madripoor. Low Town, Selby, Sharon—all that happened as a consequence. You didn’t like tonight’s date? That’s on you.”

“Date-like,” Bucky corrects with a sly smile. “The noise and the fighting last time were fine—”

“Were they?!”

“—I just thought the next date should be different.”

Sam laughs softly because this isn’t the first time Bucky’s made this sound like more than a joke, but it is the first time he’s done this at night. And without Sam’s sister and nephews in the next room, or the potential for anybody to drive past them on a country road that runs alongside untidy fields, but when they’re truly alone.

“How so?” Sam asks, heart pumping like the bass in the basement, where the party’s carrying on without the two of them.

Bucky loosens his arms even more, until his forearms rest on his thighs, until—when he rocks to the side, repositioning to face Sam—he can rest one on the back of the couch where Sam’s used to be. His hand hangs down and his fingers skim Sam’s shoulder.

“More private,” Bucky confesses.

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted,” Sam says with an easy laugh because Bucky’s face is still a little too stern, but that could be self-consciousness. “Tell me how to get more than four stars, man.”

“And you’ll do it?”

“Depends. Try me,” he blurts.

He watches Bucky’s face pinch in then relax, going especially slack at the mouth, which gets closer when Bucky angles into his space. Sam’s fingers release and his back straightens as he shifts to square his body to Bucky’s. They’ve done something like this before, locked into stubborn, confrontational posture when Bucky makes Sam’s life difficult by refusing to go along with what he says, but not this. Not this exactly.

Sam doesn’t stiffen or jerk away, so Bucky keeps coming.

“Are you…?” Bucky asks, eyelashes fluttering as his lids raise and lower, looking from Sam’s eyes to his lips. “Is this…?”

Always talking.

Tilting his head and closing his eyes, Sam stamps his mouth to Bucky’s. He goes to break away after a few stunned seconds, but then Bucky’s hand lands on the back of his neck—warm; not the metal one—to hold them together. Sam meets Bucky’s seeking tongue with his own and feels scruff against his face as their mouths test and react to each other. Reflexively, Sam grips the front of Bucky’s tight, black t-shirt. The kiss is quick and feverish and, when Bucky’s fingers untense on his neck, Sam rests his face against Bucky’s.

He wouldn’t say he’s scared to move, but he’s wary. He can’t tell if they’ve fucked up their whole dynamic or taken it, at last, to a level it was always going to reach. Raising a hand to pat the side of his head and check that his goggles are in place, Sam stops, remembering he won’t feel the strap because he’s not in the air. It’s been a while since he felt lightheaded on the ground.

He clears his throat and draws back. Bucky starts to remove his hand from Sam’s neck, but Sam reaches up to keep it there. He juts his chin out challengingly as he holds Bucky’s eyes, thinking, for a second, of their joint session with Dr. Raynor.

“What’s the verdict?” Sam demands.

Bucky stares back solemnly.

“Four and a half.”

“I’m leaving you here in Madripoor,” Sam declares, pointing a finger down at Bucky’s abruptly and broadly grinning face as he pushes up from the couch.

He strides over to Sharon’s crystal decanters, laughing to himself and looking for water. There isn’t any, but she does have an insulated canister of dissolving ice cubes. Sam scoops a few into a tumbler and turns back to look silently at Bucky. He cups the base of the glass in his hot palm. Slowly, the ice starts to melt.

[kassies-take]

The Whipped and The Jealous

Love your stories! They're cute! May I please request Lena x reader where Reader looks cool but have a massive crush on Lena and hides her crush really well but whenever Lena does anything she go soft. Kara finds it cute and points it out to reader. Unknown to both of them, Lena have a huge crush on Reader too and gets jealous every time she see Reader and Kara talks because she thinks Kara likes reader too but they're just friends. Thank you so much!! Happy new year!!

A/n: I think this would be interesting to write. Thanks for requesting this

Warning: Jealous Luthor, Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest

Lena Luthor x Reader, Kara Danvers x Reader 

Word Count: 1561

The wind that blew around you began to slow down as you turned into the underground garage to Kara’s apartment complex. You recognized three silhouettes walking towards the elevator and immediately honked the horn past them. 

You rolled to stop at the designated parking, then killed the engine and pulled off your helmet. Another motorcyclist rolled to a stop next to you. 

“A little slow Danvers.” You teased as Alex rolled her eyes. 

“You literally drove through a stop light.”

“It was a yellow light, not red.” 

You both dismounted and turned toward the trio standing near your motorcycles. 

“Catco North Trio!” You hugged Kelly, followed by Nia and Kara. 

“You guys are just in time!” Nia smiled. “Miss Danvers over here was about to steal the potstickers.” 

“I bought a whole order for myself.” Kara frowned. 

“Let’s get to the apartment before the food cools off,” Kelly reminded as Kara led the way. 

The food was set on top of the aluminum Chafing Dish Buffet. Chow Mein, tri-tips, pork belly, potstickers, egg rolls and of course wine. There were a couple of snacks centered on Kara’s coffee table. Scrabble, Uno, You’ve Got Crabs and the classic Pictonary were stacked under the coffee table. 

J’onn, Brainy and Lena arrived shortly after. You were stealing some tri-tips when she walked through the door. She was beautiful, honestly she looked beautiful in anything.

“You’re staring,” Kara whispered next to you.

“I can’t help it,” you glared at her. “It’s like you with potstickers. Every time there are potstickers you just gravitate towards them.”

“Aw and you gravitate towards Lena.” Kara pulled you into a side hug. “Just ask her out and if you get rejected continue to do sweet things for her.”

“Like William with you?”

“Ahh uhh, okay maybe don’t do that.”

“I can barely sting together a sentence whenever I’m around her, let alone confessing.”

“What are you talking about? You and Lena seem to have long conversations.”

“Dude I have a list of 10 questions I ask her. Then I just ask her to elaborate more.”

“Hey! Get a plate of food or stop eating! Get your butts over here!” Alex frowned at the two of you.

Lena glared holes into Kara’s head, that is if she had heat vision. She sat the furthest away and no one saw her gripping the carpet to the point it would rip.

You both grabbed a plate and a little bit of everything. You looked over at Lena once again. She didn’t have food or a drink. You grabbed a smaller plate, placed everything on it and grabbed a wine glass from Kara’s cabinet.

“I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t.” You said pouring the wine for Lena.

You walked over to the living room balancing the two plates on your right arm and the glass in your left hand. You handed the glass to Lena as she smiled at you, you also gave her the small plate.

“Anyone still want anything while I’m up?”

A number of ‘no thank you’ echoed around the room. You sat and began to eat.

“So I found marbles the other day. And they’re perfect for choosing teams! Reach into the bag and pick a marble the person with the same color will be in a team.”

The bag went around the room, the teams were Alex and J’onn with red, Kara and Brainy with blue, Nia and Kelly with green and you and Lena with yellow.

Brainy and Kara won scrabble, Nia and Kelly took second, J’onn and Alex took third and you and Lena took last. You both didn’t mind though, you were both still eating and didn’t have the appetite to be winning at the moment. You’ve always expressed how you’d rather have a good time than win, although winning did help.

Playing Team Uno was a bit different. Instead of the usual seven cards each team got 12 cards and could only draw once. If you called uno at the wrong time you’d have to take a card from someone on your left. Lena was counting cards and by the looks of it so was Brainy. But where Kara just wanted to play you were planning. You had taken all the special cards in your hand while Lena played. Only if a special card was placed would you place down a special card. Alex has called uno th round before.

“Sorry guys,” Nia pulled out the draw 4 wild card and placed it on the deck.

You and Lena smirked as another draw 4 was placed. Alex and J’onn drew before Brainy placed another draw 4 wild on, Nia and Kelly placed another and you and Lena placed another calling uno. Alex groaned.

You and Lena won uno, Brainy and Kara took second, Nia and Kelly third and Alex and J’onn last.

“For our sign I think we should make it really specific.” Lena thought.

“Running your right hand in your hair then resting your chin on your right hand?”

“Running your hand through your hair is your thing?”

“You’ve ran your hand through your hair like 5 times tonight.”

“How about only resting on your right hand?”

“Okay,” you agreed quickly.

Everyone had switched seats so there weren’t any secret signals. You sat next to Kara. Everytime it wasn’t your turn you stared at Lena.

“Did you ask her out?” Kara whispered.

“Will you relax,” you frowned.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking?” Kara grabbed your hand.

“I’m just nervous, okay. You’re putting a lot of pressure on me. Trust me when I say want to do everything right for her but I’m just scared.” You were mumbling so only Kara could hear. “Lena’s got crabs!”

Lena got a crab token. Kara wrapped her arm around you and this pissed off Lena. She was getting really annoyed. Were you just treating her nicely so no one would be suspicious of you and Kara. She couldn’t handle this, she was feeling hot from the alcohol and she needed air. Normally she would handle her alcohol just fine, but tonight she was also angry.

“I’m going to head home, I’m not feeling so great.” Lena stood up.

“No, you can’t go.” You pouted.

“We still have Pictionary!”

“It’s been a really long day.” Lena started.

“Let me give you a ride,” you stood.

“No I can’t keep you from having a good time.”

“Well at least let me wait with you until your driver comes.” Kara patted your leg to encourage you.

It pissed Lena off. “That’s okay he’s already here.” Her heart pounded but she remained stoic on the outside.

“Let me walk you out then.” She couldn’t say no when you were already heading towards her.

The elevator ride down was quiet. You kept rolling back and forth on your heels and toes while Lena held her hands together.

“Do you/Are you” were spoken respectively by you and Lena at the same time.

“Go ahead.” You smiled at her.

“Are you... are you Kara together?”

You frowned. “Where did you get that from?”

“You don’t have to hide it. I can see that you two love each other.”

“Wait what?” The elevator dinged.

Lena walked out as you followed her. “Lena, Kara and I aren’t together.”

Lena turned around to face you. “(Y/n) stop trying to hide it, I can see the looks on her face every time she looks at you, and how you two act around each other.” She continued to walk.

You ran in front of her to stop her. “I’m not with Kara, she’s just teasing me because every time you walk into the room, I get star-struck, I fall head over heels for you every single time I see you. I’m in love with you.”

“You’re not just being nice to cover you in Kara?”

“For you it’s love, everyone else is a cover.”

Lena grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you towards her lips. You didn’t even have time to respond when she pulled away. You did however pull her back into your arms to kiss her properly. Lena smiled after the both of you pulled away.

“Do you want to go on a date with me next Friday?” You asked.

“I don’t know, I have a game night with my friends.” Lena teased.

“Let’s ditch and go somewhere else.”

“Will Kara like that?” Lena smirked.

“Stop with the whole Kara thing.” You frowned. “So... Lena Luthor was jealous then,” you smirked.

“I was NOT!” 

“Yeah right. Where is your driver exactly?” You looked around.

Lena’s eyes widened, she was so caught up on leaving that she never actually called her driver. She pulled out her phone with a faint blush and kept her gaze down. You looked over at her phone as she scrolled through her contacts for her driver. You grabbed her phone before she could dial. 

“I give you a ride home.” You reached out to grab Lena’s hand. 

“I don’t think your motorcycle is in Kara’s apartment.”

“It isn’t but my keys and helmet are.” 

“Oh it isn’t because you want to say goodbye to Kara.” Some venom spilled. 

“It’s so I can take my girl home.” You pulled Lena into a hug as you rested your cheek near the top of her head. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

[fukurodaze]

five stars: part 1 | one look

suna rintarou, the second year middle blocker, seems to have an unapproachable crush on you, the third year cheer captain and the definition of a perfect façade. but it’s thanks to one mistaken encounter that the embarrassed meets the embarrassing.

wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing

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the monthly calendar is the only thing hung on the furthest wall in the locker room. it’s a large rectangle, with random pictures of trees and various images from the nagano prefecture - the last location of the spring high tournament. now, the calendar is half as thick, with a large number seven plastered on the left hand corner. 

for the volleyball team, this means one thing: the summer interhigh is around the corner.

suna rintarou, now in his second year of high school, knows this very well. 

a slamming sound fills the room with every ball that is spiked and blocked. the second years are staying back to play another two-on-two match. it’s osamu and suna against atsumu and ginjima. 

there is a delighted grunt from osamu as the ball falls on the other side of the court through ginjima’s arms. the makeshift scoreboard tells a miniscule point difference of one after three sets, and seeing as none of them seemed to feel any sort of prideful victory, the four almost agreed to call it a day.

almost.

“alright! take it from the top!” a familiar voice rings from the other side of the gymnasium. suna hasn’t heard your voice in a while, even though it’s been weeks since the cheer team had started practicing in the same gym as the volleyball team. he tries not to mind.

“let’s do another.” suddenly, suna fixes his posture, pupils moving frantically between the group of cheerleaders across the court and his teammates.

ginjima snickers. atsumu exchanges a glance. osamu smirks, “okay.”

the court is quiet with suspicious looks. there is a hidden laughter underneath all their faces. “what,” suna deadpans, only to meet three mysterious shrugs. 

the next set unfolds the same way the past three did; plenty of practice for every skill set in the game, reminiscent of beach volleyball, and a tiny point gap at the end. 

only this time, suna looks like he’s about to cartwheel and fall into the splits all the while shouting “got it!” or “osamu!” ten times his usual vocal frequency. strangely, there are grunts and groans that make ginjima chuckle, contorted backs during spikes that have atsumu cursing, and sweaty hands through even sweatier hair that eventually lead to the end of the practice session.

suna doesn’t realise why his blood suddenly pumps faster than it usually does when he plays. he also doesn’t realise how his eyes waver constantly between the court and the opposite end of the gym. atsumu thinks it’s almost better that he doesn’t - suna had played well, after all.

“’m kind of cravin’ some yakiniku bowls,” osamu chimes in as the four begin to head out.

“ah, we should get some,” atsumu adds. 

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ starving.” ginjima calls out, turning to suna as they walk.

suna steals a glance at the cheerleaders, finding you already rested on the bench, talking to your teammates. he’s still seated against the wall of the gym, taking another gulp from his water bottle. 

ginjima quirks up his eyebrows and motions towards the door. suna shakes his head. 

“oi, suna! ya comin’?” atsumu asks, and is met with a shrug.

suna watches as the three walk out of the gym in moderately noisy chatter. it’s not long before the group of girls bid farewell to each other as well, walking out the gym in smaller groups of close friends.

not you, though.

suna doesn’t yet dare to speak up in the large space that now only occupies the two of you. it’s been months since you last talked to him anyways - and that was back in his first year - so there was no point.

instead, suna puts down his water bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rubber soles of volleyball shoes squeaking against the wooden gym floor.

he picks up a ball somewhere on the floor, in a corner a little closer to you, and runs back to his side of the court. he stands still, and bounces the ball a few times, watching its yellow-blue-white lining seemingly mix as it spins and bounces, before holding it tight in his hands.

he throws it up in the air, feeling the ball fly. he waits a few milliseconds before he finds himself launching into the air, hand hitting the ball the way he always does it. a jump floater.

the inflatable mass is shot over the court, hard and fast. it goes far, and as suna’s feet meet the ground, he knows it’s gone too far. 

“shit.” his head snaps your direction. you’re buried in your notebook.

suna sighs, retrieving another ball from a near corner. he doesn’t usually do serve practice, and he doesn’t really use spike serves in the first place. 

some practice is never bad - he knows that - but why does the gym feel so stuffy?

he figures he might as well try a few more jump floaters, watching his wrist so that it keeps still while he jumps. 

suna hopes it’ll at least be some good company for you.

“suna.”

the boy almost jumps internally at the stern voice, hands gripping onto the locker’s edge in surprise. he cringes a bit, slightly dreading the interaction. not that he disliked the person, of course, but suna had felt a bit too tired to put up with anyone, really.

the captain, kita, stands in front of his own locker as suna nods a greeting.

“were you practicing your serves alone?”

suna cringes again. i get it, i don’t usually care about serving, is what he wants to say.

“yeah. i know i don’t really do it often.” suna peels off his sweaty shirt, tossing it into his backpack. he needs to wash it later.

there is ruffling and a zip in the background, then kita tells him, “it seemed like you did well.”

suna’s mind wanders to the question of how and why kita is still at school after not seeing him all afternoon, but it’s not like suna really cares who sees him at practice.

“i wouldn’t know, though, y/n-san told me.”

correction: it’s not like suna really cares who sees him. unless it’s you. because now he really cares. 

suna tries not to button his shirt up the wrong way. “what did she say?”

“she said it looked like you were working hard.”

“ah.” silence fills the room and suna’s gotten his tie in a rookie mistake. oh god. are you and kita classmates? he wonders. do you have a boyfriend? is kita your boyfriend?

soon, kita closes his locker, backpack and duffle bag slung on his shoulders, full summer uniform back on. he almost walks out without a word.

but kita stops at the entrance of the locker room, “i heard y/n-san had a boyfriend?”

suna has to stop his eyebrows from raising too high, so he attempts to shrug it off. he kind of feels bad for kita, seeing as it seems like he’s getting turned down at any chance of conversation.

then he hears kita chuckle. (kita chuckles?)

“just kidding. you don’t have to panic.”

kita genuinely amazes him sometimes. both ironically and frustratingly.

“anyways, keep it up. nationals is just around the corner. don’t be late tomorrow.” suna hears kita’s voice fade out as he exits. suna saves his disbelieving scoff for later.

when suna finally ties his tie without making a fool of himself, he takes all of his belongings in his backpack and heads home with a bit of a fire in his step.

of course he’s not going to be late tomorrow.

suna rintarou was definitely not late to school. in fact, he was the second one there.

apparently, the first person had passed herself out on the bottom most seat on the bleachers, with notebooks and papers laid out all over the occupied area.

suna takes a closer look, just in case the person was no longer alive. just in case.

it feels like a violation of privacy when he finds that it’s you sprawled over the bleachers, now in your uniform blouse and skirt, lip tint and eyeliner already neatly applied. 

yet, your eyes are wide open with your pupils slightly crossed, and suna hates how he has to hope that he doesn’t accidentally laugh.

he’s not sure how to wake you up, since it’s currently six in the morning, and his practice starts at six-thirty, and class starts at eight. it takes a few seconds of standing in silence in front of your passed out body.

two things come into his head: you are pretty. this is pretty weird.

he figures that he might look like he’s looking over a dead body, from the position he and you are in. 

it does seem like you’re breathing, so suna opts for a slight poke of the finger to your shoulder. his long arm and fingers extend in your direction, his body staying back in order to avoid any false misunderstandings when you eventually wake up.

poke. snore.

poke. snore.

poke.

“mmkay, taayk eet fruhm da tap.” your hand moves to extend your pointer finger, the same way suna’s hand looks like now as he pokes you.

suna sighs through a clenched jaw. he clears his throat softly, “senpai?”

you let out a groan. he tries again, louder this time, “y/n-senpai?”

suna’s taken aback when your hand catches his wrist, pulling it as you sit back up, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“i saw that you had fallen asleep, so.” suna regrets his actions when he sees you yawn. maybe he should’ve let you sleep. you shift in your seat, fixing your ruffled skirt. it looks uncomfortable, and you’re thoroughly embarrassed. (you think you feel a tiny trail of drool down your mouth. you wipe it away. yuck.)

“wait, suna rintarou, right?” you blink, “i, uh, i tutored you last year, physics...?”

suna nods, “yeah.”

you let go of his wrist, mumbling, “volleyball players are so tall.”

suna catches that statement of yours. he doesn’t ask, though, even if it makes him grin inside.

“oh god. how long was i asleep for?” you reach for your phone on the other side of the bench, gasping at the time, “it’s ten past six...”

you look up to the boy, then your papers, then the boy, “uh, suna-san, i’m so sorry for this, but could you help me gather everything? i was revising our cheering programs for the basketball and volleyball games, so there’s just a lot of past papers and everything.”

suna hums in response, quietly complying and collecting your papers. there are numbers on each of them, and suna makes sure to put them in order as you continue to sort out your papers on your side of the seat, muttering short curses that suna hadn’t believed would come out of your mouth so easily if he had seen you a year ago. 

“do you have practice for cheer too in the mornings?” suna flinches at the short silence between his question and your answer, but you look at him with what he thinks is the sweetest, most tired smile he’s ever seen.

“no, not really. our schedules are basically the same as the basketball and volleyball teams, but without the morning practices,” you continue, “recently, school’s been starting up this new badminton team and having them outside instead, so we just have to compromise.” your tone turns slightly sour, unfiltered by your lack of sleep.

“doesn’t the cheer team have a supervisor?” suna questions, genuinely concerned at how you seem to be the only one making plans for the cheer team.

you shake your head, “it’s just me and yuki-chan. we have two captains, in case we ever have overlapping games, but it’s really it. we just make appointments with the principal from time to time, to make sure she doesn’t forget about us.”

“ah. that... sucks.”

you shrug, catching his gaze on you. he looks away. “tell me about it.”

suna hands you the rest of the papers and you murmur a quick thank you before you’re hugging the folder of papers to your chest, backpack still somewhere on the floor. you’re about to exit the gym when you feel a lightness on your shoulders that is far too nice for your responsibilities, and that’s when you make a u-turn, “shit, my backpack.”

“i got it.” suna has his backpack on his shoulders and one strap of your bag in the crease of his elbow. in his arms, your bag looks light. your head tilts in amusement.

“thanks. i’ll-”

“i can carry it for you, if you want.”

you near him, eyes laced with burden. you tell him not to worry, trying to lecture him about his morning practice and how people might already start coming to practice, but suna tells you that it’s only quarter past six in the morning and that he can walk you to class because it’s nicer to sleep on desks instead of the bleachers. 

so you smile, because how could you not?

"would kita be mad if you’re late?”

suna grimaces at your mention of kita - without honorifics. are you two that close? suna wishes you could call him without any honorifics, too, maybe even his first name-

“suna-san?”

his eyes pierce into yours and he cocks his head forwards, brisk walking out of the gym. there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, and it reminds you of the last time you had really talked with him, less than a week after he had gotten a well-deserved 89 on the final physics exam - it was almost a 50 point improvement. 

suna shakes his head, chuckling, “we won’t be late.”

his voice is only a little bit deeper now than it was then. his summer uniform fits him well.

you realise that he is handsome before he is your underclassman. 

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[vibrant-leaf]

A Miraculous Second Chance

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: An accident happens and Bakugou has a bad head injury that affects his relationship with Kirishima.

Warnings: cursing

So I realize that this drabble has a lot of holes and things wrong with it but I won’t ever actually write this because it’d be a lot to tackle, especially with basically rewriting Bakugou’s much needed character development buuuuut I thought of this and needed to share it. This was just a series of messages in a discord so, it’s choppy, there’s grammar mistakes, I go back and forth between Kiri and Kirishima, but I still love it. So I hope you enjoy it for the mess that it is 😊

Bakugou and Kirishima are dating, it’s their third year at AU, Bakugou is out on a work study mission, fighting villains ya know the norm, but something goes wrong and he hits his head somehow, gets knocked out, and has to go to the hospital. Once Kiri gets word that he’s hurt he rushes to the hospital and by the time he gets there Bakugou has only been awake for about 5-10 minutes and the doctor is talking to him and his parents are outside of his door. Kiri runs for his room and Mitsuki sees him and tries to speak to him, “wait Kirishima we need to talk to you real quick” but..

“I need to see him! Just let me him first please!”

Mitsuki tries to stop him but he barges through anyway.

“Katsuki!! Oh my god thank god you’re okay!” He walks over to Bakugou and hugs him but Bakugou is freaked out and pushes him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me who do you think you are?!”

Eijirou backs away from him to give him some space. “What- katsuki it’s okay it’s me, it’s Eijirou.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are- and stop using my given name!”

And Eijirou is just stunned. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eye brows scrunched up.

Mitsuki speaks up again, “Kirishima, honey. A word?”

Bakugou is just glaring at him and he can’t take it so he walks out of the room and next to Bakugou’s mom.

Kirishima is gutted. Understandably. With Bakugou being Bakugou he’s not gonna continue a relationship with some random stranger. (I’ll be continuing with bulletpoints)

Last thing Bakugou remembers is him finding out he got accepted into UA

Kiri had to explain the situation to rest of the BakuSquad and they now understand that Bakugou will be okay he just needs some space from everyone so he doesn’t get overwhelmed so they can’t bombard him with their usual nonsense.

But then BakuSquad asks about their relationship and Kiri just shakes his head and says “but I don’t blame him” and he’s been trying to hold back his tears. Of course he cried the night he saw Bakugou in the hospital but since then he’s been trying to suck it up because itd be selfish of him to cry over their relationship when Bakugou is going through something worse, right? So he should just be thankful that he’s alive and okay. But the bottle that’s been filling up with his emotions for the past couple days inevitably explodes and he starts to sob in front of his friends.

Bakugou is back to keeping his distance from everybody.

At first he’s given a little time to adjust to his “new” life before he asks about everything that’s happened to him but he definitely wants to know everything.

Kiri is trying to be friendly towards him. says hi to him every morning, tries to ask him questions about what he last remembers.

He gets a stern answer, “that I got accepted into UA.”

He hates the answer because that means Bakugou knows literally nothing about Kirishima, and what him and his class went through, or things they’ve done together.

Kirishima is hurting but he thinks he’ll be okay because at least he still gets to see Bakugou everyday.

He once accidentally called him Katsuki and apologized profusely. But what Kiri doesn’t know (thanks to Bakugou’s glare) is that Bakugou maybe, sort of, kind of liked the way his name sounded coming from Kiri’s mouth JUST A LITTLE THOUGH OKAY?

They soon become sort of friends again and Kiri is ecstatic by the minuscule amount of progress.

There’s a test coming up and Kiri asks Bakugou if he can help him study.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that, Shitty-hair?”

“oh.. right.. sorry. Um, I’ll just ask Yaoyorozu then.” Kiri at least tries to think about the silver lining that is Bakugou calling him “shitty-hair” for the first time since the incident, but he’s still sad.

The sad look on Kiri’s face is foreign and horrible and why the fuck can’t Bakugou stand to look at it?! “Shut up. If you need help you might as well get it from the best in the class. I’ll help you. But don’t even think about mentioning it to the others” - there that’s better. That bright smile is back on Kiri’s face. Bakugou has to bite his cheek to keep him from smiling even the slightest bit.

 CUE THE FIRST NIGHTMARE.

Bakugou is surrounded by people he’s never seen before, everything around him is just rubble, and these people are trying to capture him, but he’s dodging and fighting back.

He wakes up to loud knocking on his door and realizes he’s sweating and breathing super heavy.

He lets Kiri in his room.

Kiri is asking if he’s okay and if he had a nightmare.

Bakugou gives short and simple answers as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He’s finally calm and he tells him what his dream was about.

Kiri is shocked tries his best to calmly break it to Bakugou that that actually happened.

They decide to tell Aizawa and Recovery Girl tomorrow but for now Bakugou wants to try and go back to sleep.

Cut Kiri some slack here, he’s half awake and his brain is in Comfort-Bakugou Mode, so when he tries to slide under the covers of Bakugou’s bed he’s all the sudden getting yelled at.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shit shit! Shit! We would- or I would- um uh.. well we used to sleep together sometimes and especially if you had a nightmare.. but it’s okay I’ll just leave! Goodnight Ka- Bakugou!” And Kiri runs out of his room feeling absolutely mortified.

Bakugou is just sitting in his bed stunned. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was fucking KIDNAPPED once.. but he was also thinking about how that was the first time Kirishima said anything about when they were together. He tries not to think about what their relationship could’ve been like because it’s doing something weird to him like holy shit they slept in the same bed??? That guy?? With the stupid red hair?? Hair that honestly looked better down if Bakugou was concerned but he shouldn’t be, so he isn’t…

As Bakugou is falling asleep he thinks about how he finally wants to know about everything that happened to him in the last two and a half years.

So Bakugou talks to aizawa and recovery girl the next day and he gets a brain scan to see if maybe that one part of his brain that was damaged was healing at all.

The result: nothing much has changed with his brain.

He’s starting to get frustrated because he wants to remember but it looks like there was no hope of that happening anytime soon so he has to settle for stories from other people.

Sure he wants to know everything but good God a lot of shit has happened so he decides vague details for now are best.

Kiri just pretends that he didn’t try to sleep with Bakugou the night before and tries his best to act normal around him and it helps that Bakugou doesn’t bring it up.

Kiri really wants to tell him about their relationship though.. maybe one day. But as soon as he thought he was feeling better, he’s back to excusing himself from the lunch table because he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugou and wants him back and fuck he just really needs to have a cry right now. Luckily there isn’t anyone in the bathroom so he’s able to cry in peace.

Over the next week Bakugou has a couple more nightmares and Kirishima simply goes over to his room to check on him and it kills him that that’s all he can do for him now.

But on one night, it’s Bakugou’s turn to be pounding on Kirishima’s door.

Kiri quickly gets out of bed to open his door “Bakugou? You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…”

“Tell you.. what?”

Bakugou just stares into his soul, takes him in, his pretty hair that barely reaches his shoulders, his eyes, the scar above his right eye, his whole face, his lips- okay that’s enough... 

“Bakugou, I’ll tell you anything you want-”

“Why didn’t you tell that you were the one who.. who was there.. who called out to me.. whose hand I grabbed to escape those villains..”

Kirishima just stands there dumbfounded and says nothing because he didn’t really have a good answer to his question. Why didn’t he tell him? Because it was too much about them? Yeah maybe but looking at Bakugou’s face right now makes him feel real stupid for telling him nothing about that.

“I.. I really don’t know.. I’m sorry Bakugou.”

“Do you not have feelings for me anymore?”

Kiri could fucking laugh right now because that was the furthest thing from the truth, but of course he refrains.

“No! That’s not it at all.. I mean.. sorry I just.. I didn’t think you would want to know about us? Our relationship? I don’t know.. I feel dumb now for not telling you that at least.”

Bakugou keeps staring at him and Kirishima has no clue what to say or do with himself right now.

But Bakugou is annoyed. Annoyed that Kirishima wouldn’t tell him about that. Annoyed at how he’s been feeling towards Kirishima recently. Annoyed at how he wants to know everything about them, their relationship, what they did together, what sleeping next to him was like. He’s annoyed and he’s gonna do something about it.

So Bakugou takes a giant leap of faith, grabs Kirishima’s shoulders, and crashes his lips onto his. He really hopes that they’ve kissed before, otherwise this would probably be pretty fucking weird to do.

Kiri doesn’t kiss back right away because his brain needs to process what the hell is actually happening right now. But once he realizes that he isn’t in fact dreaming he puts his hands on Bakugou’s face and kissed him back.

When they pull apart they’re both breathless and blushing.

Bakugou’s stomach is doing flips and Kirishima is putting on the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him. And he’s almost mad at himself for not being able to remember what Kirishima looks like after kissing him like that. But he burns it in his memory this time and he silently swears to himself and to Kirishima that he’ll never forget again.

“I want to know everything about us.”

Kirishima can’t help it... he starts crying. But he’s crying because he’s so fucking happy and relieved and oh my god Bakugou kissed him again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bakugou lets a small smile form on his face. “It’s Eijirou, right?”

Kirishima nods frantically and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck and continues let the tears of joy fall down his face.

~Fin.