#but i LOVE the theme of 'these two guys are so in love with each other that even when they're not playing lovers it feels like they are'

[velvet4510]

“All those years wasted fighting each other, Charles … to have a precious few of them back …” is one of THE most romantic lines in movie history and I don’t get how anybody can possibly be blind to their being in love when these are canonical words, spoken in the most passionate and profound delivery by Sir Ian McKellen (the LONGING in his voice, you guys), followed by Sir Patrick Stewart managing to convey a million different emotions without moving a single facial muscle in the reaction shots, and then a closeup of their hands perfectly fitting together like puzzle pieces. This is some Wuthering Heights-level yearning; it ain’t subtle. I’ve heard some people say this doesn’t really count as an apology, and those people have zero media literacy; this is an even MORE powerful statement than either “I’m sorry” or “I love you” could ever be. It’s the echo of the theme of “Time in a Bottle,” which not so coincidentally earlier played in the scene where the two of them are saved from a brutal death by their son in the past. It’s a perfect summary of the entire tragedy and beauty of their relationship.

[chai-berries]

all my friends support palestine and know neil druckmann is a zionist (new link)

Tricks and Treats and Lots of Popcorn Balls to Eat (#24)

Halloween Dusk, 6:58 PM, Anderson Home, Dining Room

You’d think your wife loved Trick or Treating more than your kids, the way she’d strategically planned out the route around the neighborhood. You were sitting at the dining table, applying black whiskers to Isaac's face. He was going as a Black Kitty Cat — with an extremely cute and fancy bow tie collar. Abby was balancing your other two — Genevieve was a baby Chick, her favorite animal, and she was happily sitting in Abby’s arms, all ready to go. Elijah was having a bit of an issue with one of his many legs attached to his torso. He was going as a spider that is also a human. Not to be confused with Spider-Man. Something you and Abby had to clarify with Elijah on multiple occasions. You were dressed like a witch that matched Isaac and Elijah’s costumes, while Abby was dressed like a Farmer to match Genny’s.

“There, all done!” You capped the eyeliner pencil, letting Isaac step back and look at himself in the mirror. “Oooh I love it, Mama. Thank you.”

“You are so welcome. Now go get your puffer vest and your bucket, okay?”

It was going to get pretty cold once the sun set, so each of the kids had a puffer vest or shawl that matched their costume.

Once all eight of Elijah’s arms were secured, the group of you started out the door and out onto the streets where kids and families were already milling about. The neighborhood you guys live in is close to the elementary school, thus the neighborhood became the best place for a little kid to trick or treat within the past 20 years or so. Now it’s a perfect set up with the best candy, houses hosting child-friendly games, and even a few of the older folks host a cake walk at the soccer field park. To give the parents and adults some Halloween magic, one older woman makes halloween themed baked goods and fresh coffee and hot cider. Abby was an absolute fiend for her Popcorn Balls, buying one for you and three for her. You both get Butterscotch and Abby gets the rainbow marshmallow one — for gay reasons — and a chocolate drizzled one she treats like it’s a fancy dessert.

The night takes a turn an hour into the walk. By now the kids have a good amount of candy. Elijah has a bit more because some of the houses were for “Big Kids” and Isaac wasn’t ready yet. Genevieve was too busy trying to waddle away from you to care about the candy. You were in the middle of chasing her down someone’s drive away when you heard Isaac start to cry, followed by noises of anger from someone you didn’t expect — Elijah.

You turn the corner onto the sidewalk to see Abby crouched down in front of Isaac who was crying. You run over to them and scan his sad face for any reason for the crying, but see nothing obviously wrong. Then your eyes and ears are both on Elijah, dressed as a spider-human, who is scolding a teenage zombie that was covered in life-like guts. Even though he’s smaller than the teen, the older boy’s face looks embarrassed.

After checking in with Abby, who is successfully calming down Isaac, you walk towards Elijah, Genny still in your arms.

“Elijah?”

He stops talking and turns to you. His angry expression changes to relief, tears of frustration bubbling in his eyes. “Mama! He scared Isaac! He jumped out at us and scared Isaac! He has friends with him too!” You reach out for Elijah, who turns to glare at the boy before running into your body.

You lock eyes with the teenager and raise an eyebrow. He now looks more scared and you don’t know if it’s because of you or whatever Elijah had been saying to him. Or it could be Abby, who is now standing upright and glaring at the boy, just a few feet behind you.

“Is this true?”

“Ye-yes. I-I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to make the kid cry. I just wanted to spook them, ya know, because it’s Halloween. I’m so sorry.” He seems genuine enough and Isaac doesn’t seem as scared anymore. You still think that Elijah and Abby could stand to simmer down more.

“I understand it’s Halloween, but you are in a neighborhood filled with elementary school kids. Have some sense next time.” You look around and only see older kids walking with their parents. This neighborhood was practically little-kid-only on Halloween.

The teen nods rapidly. “Yeah. I didn’t wanna come but my friend made a bet.”

“Where are your friends now?”

“Probably five blocks over.”

“Good friends you got there.” You give him a wry smile. “Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen. I will accept your apology on behalf of my kid. And I will let you go. However, no more scaring kids dressed like farm animals, okay? Sounds good?”

“Yea-yes.”

“Okay now you better go because I can only hold my wife back for so long,” you nod your head back to Abby who is holding Kitty Cat Isaac in her arms but she somehow looks like a Wolf Soldier with that expression on her face.

The teen locks eyes with Abby and his face drains of color. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to not smirk.

“Yes. Thank you. So sorry!” He says the last part to Isaac and Elijah before running away down the sidewalk. You walk back to Abby and Isaac. You stop in front of her and free your hand holding onto Elijah to smooth Abby’s furrowed brow.

“Easy there, mama bear,” you joke. Her brow softens.

“More like you’re mama bear; standing up for our cubs,” she says and boops your nose. You automatically scrunch it, making Abby laugh.

You blush under her loving eyes. “To be honest, if anyone is Mama Bear it would be Elijah right now,” you look down to Elijah. “I am very proud of you, Eli. You are very brave to stand up for your brother. I’m sure he appreciates it.”

At the mention of himself, Isaac looks down at Elijah. “Thank you, Eli. Momma, can I go down?” Abby lets him down. Once on the ground, Isaac wraps his arms around Elijah in a tight hug.

“Do you guys want to continue?” Abby asks after a moment.

They break away and Elijah grabs one of Isaac’s hands to hold.

“Yes, I am good now!” Isaac confirms. His hand squeezes Elijah’s in excitement. His tears are gone and a smile has replaced them.

You and Abby share a smile between yourselves.

“Okay,” you say. You boost Genevieve higher on your hip. She’d been supporting a concerned frown for her brothers, but fortunately never felt the need to wiggle out of your arms and run off like she did before. “Let’s go get candy!”

Halloween Night, 10:13 PM, Anderson House, Living Room

“Ugh,” Abby groans. “I love Popcorn Balls!”

She takes another large bite out of the popcorn ball, looking like a less dignified Snow White eating the poison apple. Laughter bubbles out of you as you watch her try to catch the loose pieces her mouth misses.

It’s your laughter that must remind Abby that she’s not alone. She turns her head to you and raises an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?” She asks.

You don’t answer her at first, learning forward to pick off a piece of Popcorn Ball that was sticking to her chin. She had this look on her face that could rival Isaac’s goofy, innocent expressions. Which often features a joyful grin that they just happen to share.

Once her face is clean of a few more pieces, you answer her. “Nothing. You’re just so cute.”

Her confusion makes you laugh again. “I’m cutely funny, not funnily cute and that was your funnily cute laugh. And you just did it again.” Her lips quirk upwards. You know she’s teasing you.

Rolling your eyes, “I am not starting this again with you.” You make a move to get up off the couch and Abby stops you from moving. Now she’s really laughing. Her fingers dig into your sides, tickling you.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I was messing. C’mon, here, where's your Popcorn Ball?” She looks around the couch. You both had settled down on the couch after putting the kids to bed. All three of the kids’ candy buckets are sitting in front of you on the coffee table. It was a yearly ritual that, after you tuck the kids into bed, you and Abby stay up and sort through all the candy.

It’s half because you have picky children and it’s better to give Elijah the Three Musketeers now, than wait for him and his brother to painstakingly trade them. And Isaac really only eats things with peanut butter and chocolate combined. Since Genny doesn’t get candy because she’s 2, when they get non candy treats like color changing pencils that change with heat, or trinkets you can show her that light up or any cute figurines, you put them in her bucket.

Once you guys pick through all the candy, you trade between yourselves the leftovers that the kids don’t like.

“Ya know?” you muse aloud while looking for a piece of chocolate in the leftover pile. “We have some brave kids.”

Abby’s knee nudges yours. “Yeah, we do.”

You find the chocolate bar and tear it open. You break the bar in half and give Abby the other piece, without a second thought.

She says thanks and pops her half in her mouth like a baby bird getting fed. You choke on your piece of chocolate, trying not to die from chocolate while simultaneously laughing at Abby’s face.

The noise makes Abby turn towards you, eyes wide.

You manage to swallow the chocolate without much damage. You reach for your cup to wash down the remnants.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you start laughing again. “Why did you eat the chocolate like that?”

“What?” Abby blinks at you. Then a look of realization grows on her face. “Were you laughing at me and that made you choke?” Abby huffs and rolls her eyes in faux irritation.

You give her a pout. “I’m sorry, my love. You are just so cutely funny. I can’t help it.” You move until you’re able to lean against Abby and curl up against her side. She pointedly looks away, but her lips quirk upwards. And she still wraps her arm around you, like it’s second nature.

Still seeing that she’s going to make you work for it, you cup the side of her face and pull her cheek to your lips. You loudly kiss all over her cheek, exaggerating the smooching noises until Abby starts laughing at the sensation.

“Okay, I forgive you,” She moves her cheek away from you. You watch as her hand come up to cup your own cheek and she pulls your face towards her to kiss you soundly on the mouth. You fight to keep your lips from smiling, kissing Abby back with just as much love.

After a moment or two, you break away. You press a few light kisses to Abby’s face, pointedly on freckles that dust her cheekbone like a constellation.

“Mmm,” Abby preens under your affection the same way she’s done for years that you’ll never get tired of.

“Mm, I love you,” you say against her skin, between kisses.

“I love you too.” Abby tightens her grip on you.

“Mm. I love you more, my cutely funny wife,” you joke.

Abby nods her head stoically. “That’s fucking right.”

“Happy Halloween, baby.”

“Happy Halloween.”

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Nineteen

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of: gambling, drinking and the trauma with the ex but it's not in depth, enjoy! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! i swear the second i post an apology for not writing, i get inspired to finish a chapter smh, oh well! TYSM for all the support so far!! w/c: 2,487 The last few nights had been a hazy blend of neon lights, full-bodied laughter, and the wild thrill of rolling dice. Vegas left us no better off, but not much worse either. It had been exactly what we’d wanted—a blur of spontaneity and freedom. But our relationship… well, somewhere between the casinos and the sunrises, we’d slipped into a rhythm as natural as breathing, like we’d been moving to this beat all along without realizing it. I was relishing this newfound feeling of security and warmth with Stan, and from what I could tell, he was too.

Now, as the glow of the city faded into the distance, Stan took us back out onto the open road. His grip on the steering wheel was firm and steady, a mix of confidence and pride that made me smile. In the El Diablo, he looked so at ease, like he was exactly where he was meant to be. I must’ve been watching him a beat too long, lost in thought, because he turned and shot me a curious look, one of his large hands giving my thigh a gentle squeeze.

“You okay in there?” he chuckled, a spark of concern flickering across his face, softening his usual bravado.

I grinned, feeling a warm glow in my chest. “Just admiring the view. It’s not half bad.”

A blush crept up from his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, though he tried to shake it off, rolling his eyes with a bemused smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the faint pink lingered, making him look a bit softer in a way I had come to love.

The engine hummed in time with the miles ticking by, and for those first few hours, the drive was effortless. Stan’s stories flowed as easily as the road ahead, each one more exaggerated than the last. He gestured wildly with one hand as he talked, painting scenes so vivid they felt like memories we were living right then and there.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost got kicked out of a bar for winnin’ too many games of darts?” he asked, laughter dancing in his voice.

I shook my head, leaning in closer. “No, but I’m sure it’s a classic.”

“Oh, it was! I was on fire that night. Took down this guy who looked like he could crush a car with his bare hands. I swear, he was ready to throw me out, but I just smiled and said, ‘Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t handle the heat!’” He laughed, and I joined in, the sound filling the car like music.

We traded laughs, filling in gaps in each other’s retelling of the Vegas escapades, our best attempts at piecing together the blurry, half-remembered nights.

Noon slipped by in a flash, and we pulled over at a gas station in the middle of nowhere to grab a quick bite. Even under the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights, that dusty pit stop felt like an adventure. I picked out a bag of chips while Stan eyed the selection of sodas with the seriousness of a connoisseur.

“Caffeine or sugar?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not both?” I grinned, tossing two cans of Pitt Cola into the basket.

Every small thing, from picking out snacks to catching each other’s eye over Styrofoam cups of coffee, had a quiet magic. We had this feeling that there was nowhere else in the world we’d rather be. It was new for us both, this effortless sense of belonging together, and I found myself cherishing it, wanting to hold onto every simple, beautiful moment.

As afternoon faded to late day, the sky stretched wide and open above us, painted with long strokes of orange and gold. The glow spilled into the car, catching in Stan’s hair and casting soft shadows across his face. He was quieter now, his stories trailing off as the caffeine from his coffee wore thin. I watched him try to stifle a yawn, his hand moving to cover it as though I wouldn’t notice.

“Getting tired, huh?” I teased, brushing a hand across his arm.

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Nah, I’m golden, sweetheart,” he said, but another yawn betrayed him as his eyelids drooped at the corners, making me laugh.

“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms, watching him struggle to focus. “Why don’t you let me take over for a while? You’re gonna pass out if you keep this up.”

His eyes flicked over to me, his expression somewhere between amused and dubious. “This is the Stanmobile we’re talkin’ about here. I don’t just hand her over to anyone.” He chuckled, but it was half-hearted; even he couldn’t muster up his usual teasing grin.

“Stan,” I said softly, giving him an encouraging look, “I spent months practically living out of my car and navigating roads all over the country. I know how to handle a lot of things… including your baby here.”

He gave me a long look, the stubborn glint in his eye flickering as he weighed my words. “You sure about this? She’s got a few quirks,” he warned, clearly struggling between his protectiveness and his exhaustion.

I nodded, reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze. “Trust me. Just close your eyes for a while and get some rest. I’ll keep her steady.”

After a few more moments of hesitation, he finally sighed, giving in with a reluctant but affectionate smile. “Fine, but anythin’ crazy happens and I’m takin’ back those keys.”

“Deal,” I replied, grinning as he finally pulled over to the side of the road. With a tired sigh and a stretch, he climbed out and made his way around to my side. Though he looked a bit worn out, he still offered a hand to help me out, that familiar spark in his eyes softened by the weight of a long day.

Once I’d slid over into the driver’s seat, he leaned in, adjusting the seatbelt and giving me an approving nod, his eyelids heavy but still holding that mischievous glint. After he closed my door, he walked slowly back to the passenger side, sinking into the seat with a contented sigh. He gave me a lazy smile, crossing his arms as he settled in. “Alright, let’s see what you got,” he teased, his voice warm and easy as he closed his eyes, leaning back to relax.

As I settled in behind the wheel, a quiet thrill bloomed at the thought of being trusted with something this important to him. Adjusting the seat, I eased the car down the highway, feeling the low rumble of the engine beneath my hands. Beside me, Stan leaned his head back, arms crossed, stubbornly trying to stay alert, though his face already showed signs of fatigue. Not five minutes later, he succumbed, slipping into a deep, even sleep. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was interrupted by soft, unbothered snores, each one a little louder than the last.

For a long while, it was just me, the steady drone of the road, and the rumbling sounds of his snores as we cut across the vast, open stretch of highway. The warmth of this moment washed over me, surprising me with its ease and simplicity. Memories of the past flickered through my mind, moments I’d long since buried, but somehow the softness and the trust we shared brought them to the surface. It was almost startling to realize how far I’d come from those days when love had felt like something sharp-edged, guarded, conditional. I used to think that was how it was supposed to be; tight control, anxiety like a shadow I could never shake. I’d spent years keeping my guard up, never giving too much, always careful to stay a step back. Back then, I’d told myself it was easier to keep people at a distance, safer that way.

But here I was, not even a year into knowing Stan, and he was trusting me, not just with his prized car but with himself. Every mile we travelled, the gap between what I’d known and what I’d found grew wider. I glanced over at him, his face softened in sleep, a faint smile still lingering on his lips even in slumber. He wasn’t trying to be anything but himself, and somehow, for the first time, I felt like I could do the same.

After a while, Stan stirred beside me, blinking awake with a lopsided, groggy smile. He glanced over, his voice thick with sleep as he asked, “How’s my girl holdin’ up?”

I shot him a quick grin. “The car’s running like a dream. Smooth as ever.”

Stan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Meant you, Sunshine. But glad to hear she’s doin’ alright too,” he said, laughing quietly. He rubbed his eyes and looked me over, the concern in his gaze unmistakable. “You okay to keep goin’ a little longer?”

I nodded, warmth spreading through me at the casual way he asked, as if watching out for me was second nature by now. “Didn’t think you’d be so protective while I’m behind the wheel,” I teased, a playful smile dancing on my lips.

“Protective’s just part of the package, sweetheart,” he replied, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “But wake me if you need a break, alright?” His eyes softened as he settled back into the seat, a hint of mischief still lingering even in his drowsiness.

“Well, if we keep driving straight through, we can skip the motel and get back to the Shack quicker.” The thought of returning to our cozy little space felt like a warm hug, and I cherished how naturally I could think of our shared life as home.

Stan’s expression brightened a bit at my words. “That sounds like a plan. I’d rather be back in our own bed than stuck in some dusty motel any day.” He shifted slightly, nestling into the seat with a contented sigh. “If you need me, just wake me, okay?”

“Will do,” I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips as I watched him drift off. Butterflies fluttered and warmth spread through me as he casually referred to his bed as “ours,” reinforcing the sense of belonging blossoming between us. The quiet trust we shared was quickly becoming my safe space, and I savoured each moment of this deepening bond.

It struck me, almost painfully, how wrong I’d been about what I thought I deserved. I’d spent years bracing myself for the worst, anticipating moments that would make me flinch or retreat. But here, there was only quiet warmth and an unwavering sense of trust. Stan had slipped past all the walls I’d built, and with him, it felt like my journey was coming full circle.

In a way, I’d set out on the road months ago thinking I was searching for a place to belong, somewhere I might finally call home. But as I glanced over at Stan, his relaxed face softly illuminated by the fading afternoon light, I realised I’d finally found it. We weren’t just heading back to a small town; I was on my way to the kind of home I’d never known was possible, one I wanted to hold onto forever.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow through the windshield, I found myself humming softly to the radio. The familiar tunes wrapped around us like a warm blanket, and I felt a sense of peace settle in my chest. I stole another glance at Stan, his lips curled in a contented smile even in sleep.

“Hey, Stan,” I whispered, nudging him gently. “Wake up and watch the sunset with me.”

He stirred, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light. “What’d I miss?” he mumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“The best view in the world,” I replied, tilting my head toward the horizon. 

His eyes sparkled with recognition, and he leaned closer to the window, taking in the vibrant colours painting the sky. “Now that’s a sight worth wakin’ up for,” he said, turning to me, the soft light catching the warmth in his gaze.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a swell of happiness. “It really is.” Stan's expression shifted as he took in the scene, and he suddenly sat up straighter. “Wanna pull over and watch it properly?”

“Good idea,” I replied, my heart racing with excitement.

Without thinking twice, I pulled over to the side of the road, the engine humming softly as I shifted into park. The sun hung low, casting golden rays that danced across the landscape. As I opened the door, he was already out and walking around to my side, a playful glint in his eye. “C’mere gorgeous,” he said, a hint of sleep lingering in his voice. With a gentle lift, he scooped me up effortlessly, placing me on the hood of the car, crossing to the other side and climbing up next to me. He settled down, our shoulders brushing as we leaned back to take in the view. The sky shifted from orange to deep purple, streaked with hints of pink that seemed to mirror the fluttering in my chest.

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, glancing sideways at him. He was gazing at the horizon, a contented smile on his face. I couldn’t help but smile back, my heart swelling with the moment.

“Not half as perfect as you,” he said, turning to me with a teasing grin. The sincerity in his voice sent a warm shiver down my spine.

Before I could respond, he leaned closer, his hand brushing against mine, fingers intertwining. The world around us faded, and suddenly it felt like it was just the two of us, suspended in time. My breath caught as he tilted his head, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat.

His lips met mine softly, a gentle exploration that deepened as I leaned into him, melting against the warmth of his embrace. It was a kiss filled with the promise of everything we were building together, a testament to the journey we’d embarked on. The sunset bathed us in a golden glow, wrapping us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath me. “I could get used to this,” I murmured, watching the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “As long as it’s with you.”

We sat there for a while, the cool evening air settling around us as stars began to twinkle in the deepening sky. It felt like home, like we were exactly where we were meant to be—together, facing whatever lay ahead.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

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Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend

Part .2 • Part .4

Part 3

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You all walked into the club you’ve been going to since you can remember. It was your favorite because it played primarily 80s and 90s music, the whole club was also 80s themed.

The floor tiles were black and white, disco balls adorned the ceiling and casted beautiful lights all around the place.

You squeezed your eyes shut a few times from the bright colour lights emanating from above you as you made your way through the crowd with your friends.

Squeezed between people you danced to the music that was already ending, Izuku was next to you and Himiko and Ochaco right in front of you.

The next music played, and you jumped onto what you thought was Izuku’s arm and yelled “Oh I love that song!”

You turned your head and were met by Mina with a smile on her face and wide open eyes.

”Y/n! What are you doing here” she screamed, her hands going to your shoulders excitedly.

”The same as you, I would say, I’ve never seen you around here before” you chuckled, happy to see a familiar face.

”I figured I would try something new this time and I absolutely love it here!! Even more now that I know you also go here” she smiled, nudging your shoulder.

You took her hand and led her to your friends after she said she came here alone and you offered to spend the night together.

And as the song played, A forest by The Cure, you locked your eyes with her, and you both began dancing together. Her, in front of you, both shaking your shoulders from left to right in rhythm. Throwing your heads back, hands dancing in the air as you breathe in the alcohol fuelled air.

Come closer and see. See into the trees.

You all chant the lyrics and whirl around on the dance floor, moving your bodies from side to side.

After an hour or two of dancing, Mina led you all to the bar and ordered 5 blue lagoons.

”That’s on me you guys” she grinned at you, twirling around on her chair.

You all looked at her with disbelief, trying to insist on paying for your own drinks, but she declined and said it was nothing. You took your drinks when they were ready and went to sit around a table a bit further away.

She was so easy to get along with, like you all already knew each other. The conversation was going smoothly and you spent god knows how long talking about anything and everything.

Getting up from time to time to dance when a song you liked played.

You didn’t even order more drinks after that, too lost in the conversation to think about anything else.

Down Under by Men at Work was playing in the background as people still danced on the dance floor, the mix of sweat and alcohol slowly filling the air.

”I can’t believe that, how didn’t you tell us, my heart is breaking” Ochaco fake tries, clenching her chest.

Izuku hides his face and laughs “I couldn’t. It was a way too embarrassing moment to share with anyone.”

Mina throws her head back and laughs, and we all follow after her. She wipes a tear from her eye before continuing.

”I think it was the hardest i've ever laughed, I will never forget that scene” Izuku nudged her shoulder playfully and chuckled.

”So I heard from Kacchan you’re looking for a new place?” Izuku suddenly says.

We all turn our heads to them with a questioning look.

“Oh right that! Yeah my roommates are kicking me out for no reason” she leans back in her chair with an annoyed look.

”Seriously— What the hell is wrong with them?” you say revolted. What kind of roommates just kick you out like that you thought.

“The not so nice ones” she laughs “They’ve always been assholes but since it was a big house and they went out a lot, I thought it would be easy to avoid them and mind my own business.”

You sit here bewildered, wondering how she even managed to live more than a few days with these kinds of people. Living in a house where you always checked if there was someone home, not leaving your room when you wanted or needed to. Absolutely insane.

The girls and you quickly look at each other and nod with a small grin.

”You know me and the girls live together, and there's actually one bedroom we don’t use. Well, mostly, we only put random boxes in it or stuff we’re too lazy to put in the cave.” you say with a slight laugh.

Mina looks between you, Ochaco, and Himiko.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? “ Mina leans forward, hands gripping the seat she was in.

You nod. “Come live with us!”

She gets up almost immediately and goes in for a big group hug, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Jumping in circles screaming.

”Oh I can’t thank you guys enough. You genuinely just saved my life” she hugs you again, one by one this time.

It was an impulsive decision but you didn’t regret it one bit. Mina was a sweet and funny person and you knew she would bring even more wonderful energy in your shared apartment. You couldn’t wait until she was living with you all.

Two weeks later, she was ready to move in. All the papers were finally done after long days of waiting. For god knows what reason, the whole thing was a pain to do, and your landlord took an absurd amount of time to get everything done.

You just helped her put the last of her boxes into the room you had emptied and cleaned. Izuku also came and helped lift the heavier things she had brought with her.

”Your apartment looks so lovely, this is going to be amazing” she lifts her arms in the air in excitement.

You open your mouth to say something but are interrupted by the sound of your ringtone.

”Sorry let me take this” you smile leaving the girls to chat and making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed before answering.

”Hi Hanta” you grin.

”Hi hermosa” you can hear the smirk on his face as he speaks.

”Stop calling me that” you chuckle.

”Why would I if it’s true”

You roll your eyes and scoff.

”I can feel you rolling your eyes. Are you rolling your eyes?”

”No…”

”Liar.” he chuckles. “I was calling to ask if you were free today?”

”Today? Sorry Mina just moved in and we want to spend the evening together” you reply a bit sad about not getting to see him.

During these two weeks, you two grew closer, now eating lunch together every day, seeing him and the boys at practice when you were free and just hanging out around the campus or taking walks in the city.

You’ve now had your designed places when you hung out, sketching him out when he wasn’t looking.

It would be a lie to say that his little nicknames didn’t get to you and made you feel warm inside every time he spoke.

“Oh right! How about tomorrow?” He brought you out of your thoughts.

”Eager to see me huh” you tease.

”What can I say, I may like spending time with you” You can hear him slightly move on his bed.

”Tomorrow’s perfect. See you at?”

”Three. I’ll pick you up at three.”

”See you at three then Hanta” you smile while hanging up.

You let out a sight and continue smiling to yourself.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and music as all four of you sat on the couch. Watching movies and playing board games for hours before you all pass out from exhaustion.

You were convinced it was a good idea to offer Mina to move in and you were absolutely right.

The next morning you woke up before everyone else at around 11am. You get up slowly, careful as to not wake up the girls who were still sleeping. Ochaco had her head pressed on Himiko’s chest, one leg over her waist and Mina was using Ochaco’s back as a pillow.

You chuckled quietly at their weird position and made your way to the bathroom. Taking off your clothes you take a quick shower and make your way to your room to pick out an outfit for the day.

You scan through your closet and decide on a short white sweater, a black skirt and a large dark brown jacket. You put them on and add tights underneath with long white socks.

You went back to the bathroom and did a simple makeup, putting your hair in a hair clip.

Quietly, you go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea while waiting for Hanta.

After some time, you hear the doorbell and quickly put your boots on before grabbing your bag and opening the front door.

”Hi” you say slightly looking up at him.

”Hi” he smiles at you, looking you up and down, admiring your outfit.

“You look…very pretty.” he says as he tilts his head.

”So do you” I compliment him back.

Closing the door, you both make your way down to his car. You had no idea where he wanted to bring you. You kept asking him during the ride, but his mouth was sealed shut. You settled on turning on the radio and waiting until you arrived at his mysterious destination.

a/n a longer chapter for you guys this time ☝🏻

[nashvillethotchicken]

Thinking about Lestat seeing Louis’s eating patterns as a waste of his gift/himself while Armand gives Louis food that he literally can not enjoy or digest just so he has something on his stomach

[crescentfool]

does anyone else want to stick these two in the same room together or is that just me... i simply think they are adjacent in vibes... (+a bonus thing???)

get u a fictional guy that makes you feel like this... seeing these guys just evoke a Similar Kind of Brain Chemical and Response. Help Me.

also have bonus yosuke doodle featuring the same brushes used here...! from january 23rd, lol.

[kiawren]

I wish language was universal so you all could know how this song genuinely makes me want to jump on a cliff and spread my limbs facing a sunset as I think of kiawren (if anyone wants to listen to it... I hope the Vibes are universal at least)

I always look forward to the summer evenings after it rains.

The singing cicadas (hey!) wake up all the stars. The moonlight is so cooling.

Just like that, I think of the first time I confessed.

How embarrassing I was. See, the way you make love sound so philosophical, is actually really cute.

You talk about living in tomorrow and living in anticipation. What about living in today naturally?

I said I understand, is it too fast? The future, the first day is unfolding.

[dairyfreenugget]

I could count the amount of original stories of mine that don't have horror elements on one hand and idk what that says about me

[unboundbnha]

I’m writing a Jason Todd fic that has everything I want. The foundation of the fic is love: it’s Bruce’s love for his long-lost son. But it’s love that’s gone wrong. It’s love, but it’s love for someone who’s gone (or never existed in the first place). It’s Bruce’s fear — of losing the people he loves, of losing what makes him feel like he’s making the right choices, of feeling completely lost, because admitting that he’s making a mistake, making MANY mistakes, well. That means he’s failed. He can’t fail. Not in this. Not again.

This fic is about love: one person begging the other to see them, to love them as they are, to help them in the way they need. The other person is suffocating the first because they love them. They love them so much and just want them to be happy, but happiness to them has a certain look. Happiness can only be achieved in the right way. It’s horrible and painful and frightening and sad. It’s a story about love. It’s a horror. It’s a ghost story. Don’t you see? In the end, it’s all about love. And how sometimes the people who love us are the ones who kill us.

[fiendishartist2]

If everyone's sick, well then nobody can catch it // And if everybody's different how could anybody match?

(image 1): "you are carrie mark"

(image 3): "when i look in the mirror, i don't see myself. but, i don't see you either"

[tennessoui]

About your last post. Why yes there is Jesus/Judas porn. The most popular fic is an A/B/O mpreg story. How about a crack (?) fic in which Obi-Wan and Anakin are actors in the musical Jesus Christ Superstars. Obi-Wan plays Jesus because he has already the perfect Jesus look in real life. Anakin plays Judas. The character who is the only one who still sees Jesus as a human and has a beautiful song about his love for Jesus. Both play their role amazing except that Anakin always struggle more and more to remind that Judas gives Jesus a kiss on the cheek and not on the lips. Both start to develop more and more feelings for each other and during the premiere everyone can believe that JCS tells also lovestory between Jesus and Judas.

i...i don't think my baptist grandmama would let me

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[babyleostuff]

spreadsheet

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: (architect)student!mingyu x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 980

SYNOPSIS: if there's one thing mingyu finds incredibly sexy, it's intelligence

“i give up.” 

that was honestly the last thing you’d ever expect to hear from your boyfriend. kim mingyu never gave up, and even if - it wasn’t everyday that his ego allowed him to admit to failure.

confused, you looked up from your computer to see what finally managed to defeat him, just to be met with a very pouty, and a very annoyed boyfriend looking at the screen of his own computer, like he had some personal vendetta against it. 

you quickly covered your mouth with your hand to hide the smile forming on your face. you didn’t need mingyu to think you were making fun of him. “weren’t you supposed to work on your exam project?” you asked, doing your best not to burst out laughing. there was just something about that hunk of a six foot two man with killer biceps who was sitting opposite you, and pouting like a five year old that made you cackle. 

“yes, but i have to use a spreadsheet or whatever to sort out some of the information, and,” he sighed, “i have no idea how to use it.” 

with a loud bang, mingyu’s forehead met the table, which would definitely leave a small bump he’d make you kiss better later. huh, so he really gave up. 

“i don’t think i understand,” you crooked your head at him, pushing yours and his computers away, so you could lean over and place your hand at the nape of his neck. “kim mingyu, one of the best future architects, doesn't know how to use a spreadsheet?” your boyfriend was smart smart, there was no way he didn’t know a couple of formulas to sort out the data.

mingyu groaned loudly, and shook your hand off his neck. “don’t make fun of me baby,” with a whine, he lifted up his head, revealing big shiny puppy eyes, which were practically begging for your help. “as you said, i’m an architect, not a computer science guy!” he exclaimed, his lips turning more and more pouty with each word. 

for a person that loved to make fun of coups and his pout, it didn’t seem like mingyu realised how big of a pouty baby he was himself. 

“i don’t think you need to study computer science to know how to use a spreadsheet, gyu,” you said, and ran your thumb over his jutted out lip. “besides, you study maths and physics, shouldn’t you know how to use this kind of stuff?” 

“if this is your way of making me feel better it’s not working,” mingyu huffed, grabbing your hand in his. “and i really need to figure this out, but i have no idea how. i tried watching tutorials, but i still don’t get it. like, the more i try to understand it the less sense it actually makes,” his breath ghosted your knuckles, as his lips moved against your fingers.  “please tell me you’re an undercover tech guru, so you can do this for me. ” 

you gave mingyu’s hand a little squeeze, and took his computer with your free hand, sliding it over to your side of the table. 

“what are you doing?” he asked, confusion lacing his voice. 

you shook your head in amusement, and squeezed his hand once again, as you transferred all of the necessary data into a new, empty spreadsheet. “i may not be a tech guru as you called it, but it’s a good thing you have a super smart girlfriend,” you murmured, focused on the screen, “that knows the basics of how to use a spreadsheet.” 

you didn't have to look at mingyu to know that his eyes were wide and his mouth open in bewilderment - but it wasn't your fault - it's not like you ever had the opportunity to show off your skills before. besides, mingyu was so in love with you and he was so down bad that you didn't have to do anything special to make him look at you like you just invented a new element.

“it’s really not that hard, you just have to,” the quiet noise of you typing filled your living room for a moment, “you have to know which formals to use.” 

mingyu couldn’t tear his eyes off you. how in the world did he manage to bag a girl that was not only insanely beautiful, but also smart as hell? though he couldn’t see what exactly you were doing (not that he cared about that, he wouldn’t understand any of it anyway), mingyu was sure you were doing magic with those damn spreadsheets. 

“here,” you said with a proud smile a short while later, “is this what you were meant to do?” you turned the computer around for him to see the, yes - perfectly sorted data, just like his professor wanted them to be. 

“you are so fucking hot.” 

mingyu couldn’t help himself. he loved acting like he was the smartest in the room, but holy shit - his girlfriend was a genius, and he’d act all dumb just to have her fill out his spreadsheets. 

“you are literally the most amazing thing ever, baby,” mingyu breathed, still looking at you with disbelief. “so so smart, and so so mine.” 

you snickered, and threw a rolled up napkin at him. “calm down, gyu. that was nothing, seriously.” 

“nothing?!” he exclaimed, offended. “nothing, you say? so why was i struggling with it for the past hours?” 

“if you paid more attention in class i’m sure you’d manage perfectly on your own,” you said, suddenly shy under his stare. the lovesick look was truly overwhelming. “now, will i get something in return?” 

mingyu's expression suddenly seemed to change from pure surprise and admiration to something that pretty much resembled smugness. “what do you have in mind, princess?” he asked, crooking his head at you. 

you smiled and pointed your finger at your lips.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Three

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m realizing I’m struggling to find a good breaking point for reader, cause I want reader to break. I’m terrible at coming up with conflict though. (I’m not much of a writer, but I’m trying.)

A/N: There will be Romantic Yanderes. But, we’ll get to that later when we talk about each yandere. (Most will be platonic or start platonically at least.)

A/N: Hopefully y’all are noticing that Reader is in this constant state of just trying to cope. (If I wrote it correctly, that is.)

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

So, Reader’s childhood crush shows up looking fine and kind

Alfred informs the others of the unexpected guest.

Bruce isn’t home, Damian is out with Jon. Stephanie and Cass are busy in Gotham, Duke’s out on Patrol, Dick’s in Bludhaven, Jason meeting this guy is a bad idea, and Barbara’s at work.

Tim, being the only one home on a rare break (in reality working cases in the Batcave) is practically ordered to scope this guy out.

Which annoys Tim, because Reader is just fawning over their old crush and the truck.

The truck is surprising, not something he expected Reader to want. But, reader is practically crying over it.

Tim would have just brushed it off, but he notices how this guy keeps touching reader.

Practically clings to Reader. Even sniffing unaware teary eyed reader. (Teary eyed reader is…. Cute.)

Tim makes eye contact with this guy, and he looks… smug. Like he won the grand prize.

And, it pisses Tim off. (Why is he so smug? What does he know that I don’t?)

Childhood crush isn’t staying long, he’s going to catch a flight back to the smalltown.

Reader happily offers to drive him to the airport and Tim just hops in the backseat of the truck. (Why? Oh, I just want to get out of the manor for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.)

Childhood crush is peeved, but hides it from Reader. (Tim can tell. He’s a detective, it’s his job.)

The entire ride is Reader and Childhood crush reminiscing and catching up on smalltown gossip.

Tim is listening in on everything with intrest, realizing he knows practically NOTHING about reader. (Didn’t bother researching cause he was pissed and didn’t consider reader worth the effort when he had more important things to do.)

Now, he’s getting to see a side of Reader that no one in Gotham has really seen yet.

Reader is funny, approachable, a hint of a flirt, apparently sings, loves to spend time with people they care about, and a slight geek.

Tim is a bit entranced/intrigued. But, his biggest concern is Childhood crush.

Why is this guy so possessive of reader? What does he know that Tim doesn’t? Something’s amiss, and he’s going to figure it out.

(And, maybe he should get to know Reader some more. They’re trying to make him feel comfortable in the truck, including him in conversation, sharing happy memories and information with him, willingly. It’s nice. It’s soothing.)

Eventually, Childhood crush is dropped off at the airport. But, not after he tells reader, there will always be a place back home for them and to come home soon. We miss you. I miss you. Come Home.

The ride back to the manor is done in comfortable silence. Or, at least, to Reader.

For Tim, he has a lot to think about.

What does he know about Reader? What more is there to Reader? He wants to know more. He wants to know everything.

He asks questions on the way back, occasionally breaking the silence.

Reader happily answers, expecting this will change things between them.

It does for Tim, but not as much for Reader.

Tim jumps into discovering everything he can as soon as he gets back to the BatComputer, but he’s not ignoring reader anymore. He’s almost friendly. (He’s still busy as mess. Not much time to hangout.)

Which makes reader feel better, because Duke and Cassandra disappear for about two weeks after that. (Mission.)

Reader worries and wonders where they are.

Bruce says the two are taking a ‘small vacation’.

(Reader knows he’s probably lying, but in the off chance he isn’t, Reader feels a bit put out.)

Reader is really leaning on those phone calls to their friends and family. They spend hours talking on the phone while pacing the halls, their room, and the garden.

Everyone back in the town wants them home. They miss Reader soooo much. They just understand reader more than these rich city people.

They can’t wait for reader to come home visit.

Damian and Reader eventually have a confrontation.

Damian finds Reader cooking in the kitchen.

(Alfred lets Reader cook, and Reader helps occasionally with dinner and meals.)

Reader offers food to Damian, a peace offering.

Damian, obviously, rejects it.

Doesn’t matter that he’s vegetarian or if he’s not hungry, he was going to reject it regardless.

And then he verbally tears into reader.

Insulting everything about them, the food, their actions, their attitude, their clothing.

Nothing is off limits. (Damian’s had a bad day and is pent up. He wants an outlet and Reader is right there and the object of most of his doubts.)

Reader shuts down. Going cold and looking startlingly blank. (Eerily reminding Damian of Batman Bruce.)

After this all attempts for Reader to bond with Damian stop.

(Sometimes you just gotta cut your losses.)

It doesn’t help that Damian one day hears Reader on the phone when they’re pacing the halls.

Talking sweetly and softly to someone in such a loving voice. Before hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Damian initially begins to try to interrogate reader. (Who was that? Are you having relations with someone? Does Bruce know?)

Only for reader to bluntly state that they were talking to their younger brother and it’s none of Damian’s business before brushing past him.

Damian would grab at them, but he’s a bit stunned.

He knew Reader had another brother. Bruce was going to try to bring him to the manor. (Still is trying to bring him to the manor.)

But, now doubts start to creep in.

Because he wants that. That unconditional love Reader so willingly gives to their brother.

He wants that love. He wants someone to say ‘I love you’ to him like it’s as easy as breathing.

Damian brushes it off at the moment, but it sits with him. (He’ll fix things eventually. He’ll apologize. He’ll have that one day. He will.)