#decided to see how many credits i have so far to get a time frame of how much i have left till i graduate

[obbystars]

Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

[strangedreamings]

S2E5 (spoilers abound)

The credits sequence hasn't changed, as far as I can tell.

Driftmark. Corlys limping to the Driftwood Throne. He's weeping over the death of his wife. As far as he knows, he's lost everyone now -- both of his children and his wife. (It's even money whether the writers even remember that Laenor is still alive.)

There's a fucking famine and all the Greens care about is parading Meleys' head through the streets. Guys, reminding the people that dragons CAN BE KILLED probably isn't the wisest thing to do right now. How many of them have lost livestock to feed the dragons' stomachs?

The Targaryen family literally spent YEARS convincing the people of Westeros that being dragonriders made them superior, now you're showing them that a dragon is really just a giant, flying horse. This is going to bite you in the ass so damn hard very soon.

"It's just meat." EXACTLY!

If Rhaenys' body is on that wagon, they need to have the Silent Sisters escort it to Driftmark, it's the only decent thing to do.

Aemond is still so damn pretty.

To be fucking honest, I don't know if that's Rhaenys' corpse or Aegon II's almost-corpse in that box. I wouldn't put it past Cole to have Aegon II transported in a way that no one can see how mangled he is.

So it was Aegon. He must be in a coma to have not made a sound this entire time. As fucked up as he is, he still didn't deserve this.

Alicent, you don't want to see this. And when did you suddenly decide you give a damn about Aegon anyway?

Ugh, they have to cut his armor off him and honestly, he looks like barbecued meat. Aemond's got a lot to answer for but the only person who can accuse him is currently comatose.

The burns make him look like he has greyscale, it's that bad.

I'm not crazy about this Grand Maester but he does seem to know what he's doing.

Oh, his broken legs. Poor guy, he'll never be able to walk properly again, if at all.

Aemond sniffing around, wanting someone, anyone, to name him Prince Regent. Sadly, he's the best option. God knows Alicent and Helaena aren't in the right frame of mind right now to rule.

But really, if the monarch can't rule, it's supposed to be the Hand who fills in. Criston, stop cleaning your sword (are you having a Lady MacBeth moment?) and do your job.

Wait, Sunfyre is dead? I thought Sunfyre is the one that eats Rhaenyra. *side-eyes the writers* What the fuck?

"He who has left us after some marital spat." I really want this guy dead. Can someone just shank him, please? Again, someone calls him Ser Alfred, but what's his surname? I can't look this asshole up without a surname.

Excusing your misogyny isn't going to get you out of this, dude.

"You've seen no more battles than I have." God, I love you, Rhaenyra.

Jace and Baela. Honestly, Baela is the more mature of the two. Jace going behind Rhaenyra's back? To be honest, the Battle of the Gullet can't come soon enough, I'm sick of him. He's too immature, too hotheaded, and he listens to no one. He may be half-Targaryen but he's no prince.

Daemon involving himself in the Blackwood-Bracken feud. This is pointless.

I like Willem but I don't think Daemon can trust him, not when it comes to the Brackens.

The Eyrie. So this is the famous Lady Jeyne Arryn. She's upset that the dragons Rhaenyra sent with Rhaena are hatchlings.

"Will you goad me, child?" Honey, you're barely old enough to be her mother, shush.

I don't like Jeyne. I can understand her rage but I don't know, she's aiming it at the wrong target. Please tell me her offering her sympathy was not how Rhaena found out Rhaenys is dead.

"There is more than one way to fight a war." Let's get the propaganda machine churning! Again, I like Mysaria, but I don't know if Rhaenyra (or anyone) can trust her.

Where are they sending Elinda? This woman needs hazard pay.

Rhaenyra and Baela sharing memories of Rhaenys, this is what this episode needed.

Daemon's dreaming again but is that Aemma, Viserys' first wife?! Did Daemon have an affair with his sister-in-law or is he just straight tripping right now? At this point, we've seen every woman in his life in these dreams except for Rhea, his first wife. Blood on his hands again.

"My favorite son"? Is she supposed to be his mom Alyssa now? Daemon, your head is a fascinating place, I swear. You need to get out of Harrenhal with whatever sanity you have left.

Daemon's chair is as broken as his psyche.

Lord God Almighty, Daemon, you're not the fucking monarch. Saying anything otherwise is treason.

Grand Maester reporting on Aegon's prognosis and Aemond is over there smirking. Boy, you need a better poker face if you want the world to believe you didn't do it.

Alicent is made to see exactly how valuable a woman's voice is in a world ruled by men. Honey, I hate to say it, but you deserve this. Like Larys said, if they're saying Rhaenyra can't rule, then they can't have a female Regent.

Prince Regent Aemond. God help the realm.

"We should make for Tumbleton." Absolutely fucking not! You're not going to a town that's going to see TWO battles.

Cheese's dog following the cart with his body, so sad.

The woman who fucked the man who was supposed to be guarding her grandson is talking about temperance? Fuck you, you hypocrite.

"I did not give you leave to speak my name." Honey, you gave him leave to eat you out, the two kinda go together. :P

Their child's skin is GRAY, this kid is either dead or almost there.

Why are the Freys using a door as a table?

"Dragons cannot be in two places at once." These Freys do realize the Blacks have multiple dragons, right?

Fuck yes, give the Freys Harrenhal, that'll end that House right there and they won't be a problem for future generations.

"Bent knees." Yeah, Jace just woke up the whole fandom.

Secret pacts with the Freys never end well.

Daemon and Alys. I thought she was supposed to be Aemond's lover, not his.

Daemon's plotting to take KL himself. Yeah, keep dreaming. You're never leaving the Riverlands.

"The Blackwoods will be feted in these halls." With what money, Daemon?

Corlys doesn't want to be Hand but he does want to make Baela his heir, but she turns him down. Honestly, Baela should be Hand.

So I found out this guy's name is Ser Alfred Broome, and he becomes a turncloak. Raise your hand if you're at all surprised.

"Not while I live, Your Grace." Liar.

Hour of the wolf, the "blackest part of the night." So, something like four in the morning.

Ser Simon has the thankless task of keeping Daemon on target, poor guy.

Laena's back to remind Daemon that he has two daughters.

I have to love that this thunderstorm is big enough to cover Harrenhal, KL, and Driftmark.

Helaena knows what Aemond did. Is it bad that I still ship them? (Don't @ me, they're Targaryens.)

Alicent, you know you can put Aegon out of his misery, right? I'm sure there are plenty of pillows around. Just saying.

"Mummy." Aww. Go back to sleep, Aegon.

For the uninitiated, Vermithor was the dragon of Jaehaerys I (Viserys I's predecessor) and Silverwing was the dragon of Alysanne, Jaehaerys' sister-wife and queen.

So, they're going with Targ cousins instead of the dragonseed bastards to ride the remaining dragons? Interesting.

They're ending the episode there? Boo. Still no Ser Harrold.

Watching the credits. I love that the two units are named "Fire" and "Blood."

Next week's episode is gonna be gory, calling it now.

[dogshit-enchantment]

Harvestella credits rolling... Time to give my thoughts on the game

Spoiler free thoughts:

Genuinely terrific game, I will bite the hand of whoever at squenix's marketing department declared this game to be "just a farming game" instead of the cosmic horror jrpg it actually is

Cry count was somewhere in the 15-20 range, had some of the most heart-wrenching side quests I've ever experienced in my many years of playing jrpgs. Main plot made me go "what? Hello? Huh?" Almost every cutscene, but in a good way.

A solid 10/10 game I love it to fucking pieces

Soundtrack was a genuine 11/10 I want to inject it into my brain

Characters were 10/10 love them so much

Combat was a 9/10 I didn't mind it being on the simpler side, though the final boss dragged a bit

Inventory and crafting gets a 10/10 I love how the inventory/storage works

Farming and ranching gets a 9/10 just cuz I could never get a hang of crop placement and had to axe so many plants OTL (skill issue)

Environment is a 13/10 I love the scenery and towns they're so incredible

Game performance on switch gets an 8/10 it was really solid for like 80% of the game but once u get more than 2 farm upgrades it rly starts to struggle on frame rates on the farm. Overworld also had that issue towards the very end. It was on switch tho so I'm not docking it too much for that, it did rly well (though I did suffer two crashes so OTL)

‼️‼️SPOILER ZONE‼️‼️

I will say, the ending didn't get me as teary eyed as I was expecting, but I felt it did a good job and didn't let me down. The final final boss could have had better line delivery as well as a bit of reworking of her final lines cuz by that point it felt a bit hollow to me. Though maybe I was just jaded from fighting the dream of man's end. That boss fucking sucked

(NVM loaded up my new game plus and getting the letter in the mail saying "humans, I love you" made me cry. I love you too, Omen.)

Favorite boss was by far Aria. She had incredible dialogue and I loved seeing her character getting pushed into a corner and the very human way she lashed out. So incredible I love her so much, and it felt so rewarding to give her back her diary and bringing her back from the brink of despair. She's such a relatable character.

I will say it's also incredibly funny that the minute I got to the American flag in Heine's quest I instantly put together where the plot was going, the fact that it was so warn, the way no one knew what it was, what an incredible morsel for them to give.

Favorite quest was probably a close tie between Istina and Dianthus. I loved that istina was given a "traditionally feminine" role, but was by no means treated differently for it. There was no hint of "you'd calm down if u just had a kid" type shit u see from so many pieces of media. Instead she got to have a storyline about learning how to be happy, how to help others have a happy childhood when she never got to have one. And Dianthus just... I fucking ugly cried at her quest I'm ngl. Her deciding to create art, as inspired by Emily... Makes me feel so much.

I also love that Geist went fucking crazy trying to realize his full potential with the metaphysical, meanwhile Dianthus is like "I'm simply built different" and handles it no problem.

I love Dianthus so much. She was my fave when I first picked up the demo and she stayed my fave the whole way through. Can't wait to date her in post-game.

Harvestella is so fucking good I'm gonna eat my hands

[mojaves]

shooting star, comet, milky way, see no evil

also your description is cute

OHEHheheegrghgd ok im gonna do this for andrew my new favourite squeaky toy

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

ohrhfddghj great start!! great start. he used to be the head of the special programs branch at arasaka [: basically, overseeing projects that primarily experimented on people in one way or another, and lead to SO many deaths and a whole lot of misery for anyone who didn't get outright killed by the experiments. he started working at arasaka when he was barely even 20, and became the head of the branch not long after - which is a LOT of power to give to a guy who's basically a kid in the corporate world, and has never had anyone tell him no before. and arasaka didnt do that either, they actively encouraged him to do whatever he wanted, as long as it would push their technology forward and get them more money. and he absolutely let that get to his head. who wouldnt in that situation!! he also just so Desperately wanted his family to be proud of him, to be better than his siblings, better than his cousins by any means necessary. he did a Lot of things that he's not proud of. he used to be an absolute asshole. self-centered self-absorbed corpo bastard man who was only in it for himself. and he doesnt want people to see him like that ever again. if they do, thats fair. he cant change that. he knows what he's done. it's far too late to apologise for it. but if he can present himself in literally any other way, a more positive light - a man who is actively trying to change, he would much rather people see that side of him. and not the monster he was once. So badly.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

another fun one!! there wasn't really any inspiration really??? i just needed a guy for part of seb's story - the reason he almost died and got thrown out of arasaka. and up until very VERY recently thats all he was, asshole who beat seb within an inch of his life for no clear reason - which lead to the countless problems seb has had since, and the reason why he has a cyber jaw and prosthetic leg. but over like. the past week or so?? he has been through a lot of developments so ^ that incident is a lot more grey now rather than just good and bad. don't even worry about it.

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

above all else he just wants to be happy. but would also feel like wishing for that would be 'too selfish'. so, he would much rather wish to undo all the damage and death and pain he caused when he worked at arasaka. wish to have never worked there in the first place, to have never listened to his family, leave them behind, do his own thing, pursue a career he's actually interested in. learn what it's like to no longer be a sheltered rich kid who buys whatever he wants with his father's credit card.

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

it depends on the time frame, because back at arasaka, the assumptions about him being a cold heartless asshole would kind of be right??? like. 80% right. he has very much let all of that consume him, but somewhere under all of that, it's just a sad pathetic guy who's trying his best to prove himself to anyone who will listen. he's weak. he's letting people walk all over him. without the money and status, he's powerless. he doesn't want to be there - the horrible personality is a front to not let people close to him. the mask will slip occasionally, and people will get to see him for how he really is.

after that, people really would just assume he's a depressed alcoholic who may or may not be barely clinging onto sanity and onto life at any given moment. at that point they'd be right. unfortunately he is unlucky enough for death to avoid him at every possible turn, so he has to live with the consequences of his actions. what he does with that though?? hehe. well. [: dont worry about it.

[baangtan]

😷

[boxofbonesfic]

Fake fic title- Daylight Robbery, where thief Bucky breaks into readers house and ends up getting hit in the head with a frying pan

NONNIE.

NONNIE I‘M FUCKING INSPIRED. I decided to turn this into a 2 part fic because… it got way the fuck away from me and i LOVE it. part two will be posted tomorrow or friday!!

Title: Daylight Robbery

Pairing: Theif!Bucky x Reader

Rating: Explicit (smut in part 2)

Warnings: eventual smut, cocky Bucky, burglary, fluff, unprotected sex, Bucky being irritating as shit

This is a work of FICTION, and there will be ADULT themes and content included therein, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!

🍳

Part one, or: The one where you break Bucky’s nose.

Working nights at the nursing home had its share of advantages. You made decent pay, and the old folks themselves were honestly pretty pleasant to be around. You had a few challenging residents, sure, but for the most part they were just happy to have someone to talk to—even if it was someone who had to help them on and off of the toilet.

“Mornings” for you usually consisted of sleepily driving yourself home, crawling up the stairs to your apartment, and then collapsing on the nearest couch or bed, depending on how far you made it inside before you crashed. But  as you went to push your key into the lock, your door clicked open on its own.

Did I forget to lock up last night? No, you weren’t that forgetful. You squint at the door jamb, and your heart quickens at the sight of scratches and splinters. It hadn’t been unlocked—it had been forced open. Your heart roars in your ears, and for a moment, you consider leaving, calling the cops. It’s probably the smart thing to do—you’re not a fighter, you’re a fucking nurse for God’s sake—but you’ve never been very smart.

You push the door open with trembling fingers, wincing when it creaks. The apartment is eerily silent, but you can see the evidence of another’s passing—the mud tracked in from the rainy day outside, the kitchen drawers open and shuffled through. You swallow thickly, and reach for the nearest thing you can find—your grandmother’s skillet. The worn wooden handle is familiar, and the weight comforting as you heft it—just in case.

The living room proves empty too, and you’re about to let your shoulders sag in relief and drop the pan to the hardwood floor��neighbors be damned—when you hear it: a quiet shuffling in the other room. Your hands grow clammy around the pan handle, but you grip it tighter and ease forward into the hallway. You can hear it clearer now, the sound of papers being gone through, drawers being opened and shut—and a quiet, frustrated muttering.

“Top drawer, left side. How many fucking drawers does he have?” Something clicks shut, and you hear a frustrated sigh. “I’ll check the kitchen again.” Your heart leaps into your throat at the sound of heavy footsteps, and you move without thinking. He’s pushing open the door, and it’s now or never you decide, squaring your shoulders and setting your jaw as you make to swing. You register the sight of his black tac-gear, the ski-mask pulled over his head, and the shocked blue eyes peering at you confusedly through the cut out holes.

“What the fuck—” He has no time to move, no time to defend as you surprise him, hefting the cast

“The hell you’ll check the kitchen again!” You shout, cracking the tall man in the doorway right across the face. It lands with a heavy, satisfying clang, and you watch as his eyes roll shut as he slumps first against the door frame, and then down to the floor. The lamp on your bedside table goes with him, the baby blue porcelain exploding into shards on the worn wood floor. You’re standing over him, breathing heavily, your eyes wide.

You’d never thought anyone would break into your apartment—hell, you didn’t even have anything worth stealing. It took practically all of your paycheck just to afford rent in your over priced, upper-middle-class neighborhood, but you’d shelled it out reluctantly for the security of the nicer neighborhood. Security it seemed was utterly irrelevant, considering the unconscious burglar on your floor. You watch him for a few anxiety inducing seconds, expecting him to wake up and John Wick you, but when it doesn’t happen, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I guess I should… restrain him? And then call the cops? You’re not even sure what to try and tie him up with, before deciding to do your best with one of the many headscarves in your collection. You squat down, placing the pan within easy whalloping reach, and go for the expensive looking black gloves on his hands. At closer examination, they’re the cut resistant kind, with hardened kevlar bits over the knuckles and fingertips.

“Figures. Doesn’t bother to wipe his feet on the way in, but has knife-fight gloves.” You grumble to yourself, tossing them off to the side. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of the metal arm—is it even worth tying him up? You wonder, lifting it gingerly. It’s heavy, and when you press your ear to it, you can hear the whirring of the machinery inside in time with his heartbeat.

He’s huge, at least six feet easy, with muscles that you just know are thick and corded under the long sleeve shirt he’s wearing. He’s heavy too, and you discover you can barely move him as you push with all your strength. You get him over onto his back, and sit astride him, holding his hands together as you wound the fabric around his wrists. You tug on your knots a few times before you’re sure enough that they’ll hold—at least for long enough for you to get out of the room if he got agitated.

If I was robbing a place and got hit in the head with a cast iron skillet, I’d probably be pretty aggy.

You sweep aside the shards of your once cute lamp with a careful foot, and then proceed to roll him over to the radiator, where you tied him with another three scarves. God this is pathetic. You’re puffing and sweating from the effort of moving him by the time you’re done, and when you call 911, the operator sighs irritatedly.

“What’s your emergency?”

“Someone broke into my apartment! I mean, he’s still here. I got him.” You babbled, looking down at the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Ma’am so you’ve apprehended the suspect. Is he restrained?”

“Yes! I tied him up. I think. I mean I think it’ll hold.” You didn’t, though, you were just trying to reassure yourself.

“Most of our responders in your area are busy. Do you think you’ll be okay for forty five minutes?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah, piece of cake.”

“I’ll see if they can get to you sooner.”

“Thanks.”

The line goes dead, and you shove your phone into the pocket of your scrubs. Forty-five minutes—that’s nothing. That’s fifteen minutes longer than your drive home. It’s an episode of a show. It’s—

“Jesus, you hit fuckin’ hard, toots.” The strained, gravelly voice makes you squeak with surprise, and you scrabble for the pan, holding it out like a sword. He’s still wearing the ski mask, but when he looks up at you, you feel like he’s smirking.

“Y-you broke into my apartment!” You replied shrilly. “You don’t get to complain about how hard I hit you!” You brandish the pan again, and he chuckles.

“Alright, alright, slugger. Don’t hit me again. My head’s pretty hard, but I don’t think you’re doin’ me any favors by whackin’ me with that thing.” His voice sounds nasally, and there’s a wet rattle in his breath that makes you wonder if you broke his nose. You stare at each other for a moment, his steely blue eyes searching yours, and he sighs, leaning back against the radiator. “This is your place, huh?” He asks, looking around.

“Yes.”

“And you… So does Bruce live with you, or…?” He cocks his head at you, and you can see the furrow of his brow under the material. Your face heats at the intimacy of his question.

“I don’t know who that is.” You answer defensively, shaking your head. “I… I live here by myself. This is a one bedroom apartment,” you say, crossing your arms, the pan bumping against your hip.

“What? What do you—what apartment is this?” He asks, and you look at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“The apartment! The number!” He lurches forward, and the radiator clangs, rattling against the wall

“605,” you eye him warily, taking a step back as he looks up at you. “Why?”

“Aw shit.” He sighs. Your jaw drops open as realization dawns.

“Are you… Are you in the wrong apartment?”

“Clearly.”

“I… What are you even looking for?” You ask, and he shakes his head, remaining silent. “Oh come on. The cops are on their way, you might as well tell me.” You know it’s silly, but you can’t resist taunting him when he pouts. You’re not sure how you know he’s pouting, but you can just tell by the irritated glance he sends your way. “I mean, how good of a thief can you be? You’re in the wrong apartment.”

“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to, toots. But if you’re feeling generous-like, would you mind taking this off? Havin’ a hell of a time breathing through this thing.” You hesitate at the request—though you suppose it’s probably true. You’d suspected the injury yourself, and it probably was hard to breathe through the ski mask…

Keeping your hold on the frying pan in one hand, you cross the room in slow, cautions steps. You stop when you’re within arms reach of him, and lean forward, snatching the mask off. You throw it onto the pile with his gloves, before turning back to face him.

Oh wow, he’s hot. Even with blood on his face and his nose at a slightly sickening angle. He grins up at you, running his tongue across his lips. “You know, you’re kinda cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, you’re a nurse, right? Do you think you could, you, know?” He crosses his eyes at his nose, and you fight the smile that threatens to break over your face. No, dammit. He broke into your apartment.

“Yes, I am, and no, I could not.”

“Is it because I broke in?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, I’m sorry for that. Really. It’s just simple corporate espionage, I really didn’t mean to get you caught up in it. This hurts.” He whines, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s a shitty apology.”

“Can I try again?” He makes puppy dog eyes up at you, and pouts. “I’m sorry I broke into your apartment. Will you please fix my nose, toots?”

You heave a sigh, and turn away. “Wait here,” you reply, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Try not to steal anything in the five minutes I’m gone.”

“I’m tied to the radiator. What could I reach?” He bats his eyelashes at you, and you storm off the the bathroom. Where the hell were the cops, anyway? You stomped down the hallway. This was not how you were looking to spend the pre-sleep hours you had before you were due back at the home this evening. You snatch the first aid kit out of your bathroom mirror, taking a cursory glance at yourself when you close it.

His compliment rings in your ears again, and you scowl. Stupid burglar.

He’s waiting patiently for you when you return, and his expression brightens at the sight of the kit. “My hero.” He cocks his head. “Well, you also broke my nose, so… I guess it’s a wash.”

“Your nose would be fine if you hadn’t broken in!” You hiss over your shoulder, unpacking the kit on your bed. It’s been years since you last had to reset a broken bone, and you bend over him awkwardly trying to get a good look. “I did get you pretty good,” you admit, unable to hide the smugly satisfied smile that graces your lips.

“Told you, toots. I’d be surprised if there was any bone left to fix—you probably pulverized it.”

“It was the pan.” You snap, standing up frustratedly.

“I think you need to get a little closer, toots.” He purrs, and you narrow your eyes at him. You can tell he’s trying to look as innocent as possible, a difficult feat with his misshapen nose and bloodied face, but somehow he’s pulling it off.

“This better not be a trick.”

“No, no. You caught me fair and square, dollface. Thieves honor.”

“Or complete lackthereof.” You mutter. The pan is within easy reaching distance if he needs another lesson, and you squat reluctantly between his thighs.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” He flicks his tongue across his lips, and your face heats as his eyes drag down the little bit of cleavage exposed by your scrubs.

“Hey. Eyes up.” You grit your teeth and reach forward. You’re trying to touch him as little as possible, angling your body over his so that the only part of you that’s making contact is the hand holding the damp, warm rag against his face. You wipe gently at the blood above his mouth, your tongue poking out from between your lips as you concentrate.

When it’s clean enough for you to see what you’re doing, you reach up, but hesitate. “This is going to hurt.” You warn him, though you’re not sure why. It couldn’t possibly hurt more than being hit with the damn pan in the first place, could it? He nods grimly.

“I’m ready, toots.” You press gingerly on the sides of his nose and he hisses, his body jerking. His legs move underneath you, and you find yourself falling forward, your hand pressed to his chest. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, but you can tell from the pleased glint in his eye that he isn’t, not really. You’re half straddling him now, albeit uncomfortably, and you shift, bringing your legs fully to either side as your cheeks burn.

“Comfy?” He asks smugly, and you tap his nose again. He winces. “What’s your name, anyway, Dr. Kevorkian?” You tell him, and he tastes it on his tongue, sounding it out. “I like it. It fits.”

“Thanks?”

“I’m Bucky.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know.” You cut your eyes at him, and he smirks. “I’m ready this time. I won’t move a muscle, I promise.” Your fingers begin working the cartilage back into place, and you hear a sick crunching sound before his aqualine nose is back where it’s supposed to be. It’s red and a little swollen, but far from your worst work. You pull back, and he hisses, his hands tightening on your hips as he throws his head back. “Fuck that stings, toots.” He breathes, staring up at your ceiling through watery eyes.

Wait a minute.

You look down on either side of you, and sure enough his hands—flesh and metal—flex on your hips. You look back up at him, aghast.

“You—! Y-y-you fucking—”

“I know, I know. Now’s probably a bad time to tell you you’re shit at knots, huh?” You stare at him, your mouth open slightly as you blink stupidly. “I just figured ‘hey, it’s making her feel safe’ right?”

“So you could have… gotten out of those the whole time?” You ask slowly, incredulously. He’d stayed restrained… to make you feel safe?

“‘Course, toots.” His thumbs are rubbing circles on your hips through your scrubs, and it’s making it a little hard to think. “But I didn’t want ya to be scared of me. Well, you know. More scared of me.”

“You did break into my house.”

“Not to hurt you! Or anyone! And also, as I believe you pointed out, it is the wrong one.” You hate the way your stupid gut flutters when he smiles cheekily at you. “Have I mentioned how cute you are?”

“Yes. Stop it.” You mutter, looking away. You try to get up, but his hold is firm, and you grumble. “Let go, Bucky.”

“Oh, you do remember my name.” He purrs at you. You’re about to reach up and jab him in his stupid nose just to get him to shut up when a loud, insistent knock at the door startles you both. He cocks his head at you. “You gonna get that?”

You scramble off of his lap, your cheeks hot enough to fry bacon. “You better stay right there!” You try to muster up as much menacing energy as you can, but you’re a short woman in scrubs, and you know you don’t even sound as confident as you feel—which isn’t very.

“Oh I will.”

“G-good.”

You march to the door and open it to find two bored looking police officers. What, is the whole department just fucking over it or something?

“We received a call to this location, something about an attempted burglary?” The tall one asks, popping his gum. The short one nods in agreement.

“Yes, someone broke into my apartment. He’s in the bedroom. Hurry!” You lead them quickly back through your apartment, but when you arrive in the bedroom, it’s empty. “What the—” The window to your fire escape is open, your curtain moving gently in the afternoon breeze.

“Ma’am?”

“H-he was right here!” You insisted, pointing down at the discarded scarves. “That son of a bitch.”

“We’ll, uh. We’ll take a look around the place. Mance, why don’t you get a description?” The tall one—Owenson, is what his badge reads—says, making a shooing motion at the other cop. You do your best to describe Bucky, your face heating again as you describe his stubbled jaw, pillowy lips, his intense steel blue eyes.

“Well, let us know if he comes by again. We’ll have a squad car drive by a couple of times tonight, just in case.”

After they leave, and you’ve swept up the pieces of lamp from your floor, you collapse onto your bed in a tank top and your panties, thoroughly exhausted. You slide your hand under your pillow, and frown when your fingers touch paper. You sit up a little, sliding the little scrap out from underneath it.

Hey toots. Sorry I had to ditch—NYPD and I don’t really get along too tough. But enough about that—I’m thinking dinner? Saturday?

“What the fuck?” You can’t help but laugh, and it bubbles up from your chest. “Points for boldness, I guess?” There’s no way you’re going to meet him. You don’t even have his number. You go to crumple the paper up, but scrawled on the back side—

Dammit.

Part Two

[lets-try-some-writing]

Blurred Lines AU

So I found this little idea on Pinterest (credit for the idea goes to Lorien127), and it basically went along the lines of: What if Orion was 'killed' by the high council for his meddling? And what if Orion's 'death' led to Megatron starting the war in revenge? And lastly, what if Orion survived the assassination and was reforged as Optimus Prime sometime later?

I thought it was a neat idea so I am going to expand a little on it.

---

We all know the story of how Orion Pax and Megatronus came to be companions in their fight for freedom. Now imagine this, Orion and the newly named Megatron appear before the high council, ready to share their vision for a just society. The events with the high council remain the same as cannon, with Megatron speaking of his intent to overthrow the old guard by force.

However this is where the tale begins to take an interesting turn, instead of stepping up to voice his beliefs, Orion remains silent, opting to speak to Megatron afterwards about his claim so as to not steal the spotlight. Unfortunately he never gets the chance to speak with him again, at least not as he is.

Seeing the mass of followers Megatron has accumulated and hearing of his grand plan to tear the government down, the high council become afraid. They cannot attack Megatron directly, lest they anger his many followers, so instead they devise a plan to crush the rebellion by making an example of someone close to him.

The bot they decide to target happens to be Orion Pax, student of Alpha Trion and brother in all but spark to Megatron. He is the perfect target, someone who's disappearance will cause ripples and send out a warning but not create any serious problems. Or so the senate believed.

And so only a day after Megatron and Orion's visit to the high council, special agents are deployed to 'deal' with Orion. The agents catch Orion unawares and drag him off to have their way with him. It is only after he is beaten within an inch of his life and interrogated for any and all information on Megatron that the agents finally see fit to dispose of him.

Critically wounded, Orion is dumped down a chute that leads to a place deep within Cybertron, where the agents are sure none will find his body.

Unbeknownst to his attackers, he falls and finds himself deep within Cybertrons most inner layers, in ancient tunnels and passages long since lost to the ages. With what little strength he has, Orion, by some miracle, manages to drag himself into a pool of energon, completely unaware of its miraculous properties. It is there that he lays unconscious for months while his frame begins the long process of repairing itself.

-Meanwhile on the surface of Cybertron, Megatron begins a quest for revenge.

Shortly after Orion's disappearance Megatron goes to search for him, worried that his harsh words at the senate may have upset his much more compassionate comrade. However when all he manages to find is the traces of a brutal attack and a trail of energon leading to a disposal chute, he goes ballistic. He is no fool, he knows what likely befell his brother, despite that he spends weeks with Soundwave searching desperately for any sign that Orion may be alive.

They find nothing, the senate is good at covering their tracks. And Orion's life signal comes up blank, the bot in question far too deep underground to be noticed.

Megatron brakes down, he mourns quietly, and together with Ratchet and a few other close friends of Orion he prepares a fitting funeral. A shrine in his honor is soon erected by Megatron's followers who looked to Orion as a spiritual guide of sorts. Megatron, his followers, and the friends of Orion take time to mourn, ponder, and nurture their growing desire for revenge, tricking the senate into a false sense of security.

After seeing the state of Megatron's revolution the senate become complacent, thinking the rebellion crushed with the death of its purest spark.

Oh how wrong they were.

Without Orion there to support Megatron, it does not take long for his anger, anguish, and hatred towards the Cybertronian government to consume him. With the goal of avenging his brother now firmly cemented in his processor, Megatron gathers his followers and gives them their name. In only a few short months, Megatron and his Decepticons launch their first attack against the Autobot forces occupying Kaon.

It is on that day that the great war truly begins, in this universe it is not a war waged due to bitterness and spite, instead it is one waged to avenge the fallen. Deep within his spark Megatron knows that the war is not what Orion would have wanted, but his anger towards the senate and their puppets is far greater than the calls of his spark.

Those who in another universe may have remained Autobots turn to the Decepticons, the loss of Orion crushing whatever sympathy they may have had otherwise. On the other end of the spectrum those who may have been Decepticons in another time remain with the Autobots. Chaos rules Cybertron as cities burn and morals slowly begin to degrade on both sides. It is dark, it is brutal, it is everything Orion feared and hated. Yet by that point no bot can bring themselves to consider the morality of their actions, too much energon already stains their servos. For them, it is far too late to back.

-Deep beneath the ground while war ravages the surface, Orion wakes from stasis.

Despite his many months submerged in pure energon, he is weak, his frame thin and emaciated from disuse. This does not deter him though. Orion needs to get back to the surface, this he knows. However the path before him is a difficult one.

He journeys the ancient ruins beneath Cybertron, and it is there that he learns that he must adapt or die. Energon is easy to come across so near to the planet's core, but getting past those who guard the deposits is a much greater challenge to Orion.

The once pacifist archivist is forced to face off against beasts and mechanimals long since forgotten on the surface in order to continue on his journey. When he can't beat them immediately he instead watches, waits, lurks, learning everything about the creature until he can devise a way past or a method to put an end to them.

He becomes cunning, calculative, stealthy, and most notably, more in tune with his spark than ever before, almost to the point of being feral. He adapts, he changes, he learns.

He adapts to fight like the creatures of the deep, crafting weaponry from the scraps around him to mimic the capabilities of his foes. He changes his behaviors to match those of the most successful survivors in the abysmal darkness. Never once during his journey does he let his guard down, his optics always open, receptors always strained for the slightest sound, and servo's never letting go of his weaponry. All in all, he is paranoid.

Time passes painfully slow within the tunnels, to help ease the pain of his growing loneliness Orion looks for something to do besides fighting for his survival. Eventually he settles on mapping out the deep and uncovering its secrets as he travels. When he has time he studies the ruins he passes, often he will sing to himself, imagining what could have been oh so long ago. He also talks to himself frequently and busies himself translating the ancient glyphs on the walls of the tunnels when he feels somewhat safe, more so to keep his sanity than anything else.

Eventually, after months of traveling aimlessly in the tunnels searching for a way to the surface, Orion feels a pull in his spark. Without anything else to go on he heeds it, following the guidance of his own spark as he travels in what seems to be deeper into Cybertron. It is after another agonizingly long time in the depths that Orion finally catches a glimpse of light not emanating from energon and is brought face to face with his creator.

Primus, like in another similar universe, senses Orion's nobility and grants him the Matrix of leadership. Orion becomes Optimus, the Prime the people on the surface so desperately need. He receives only the barest inklings of the situation on the surface and is filled with an impossible sense of duty. Besides that, Optimus, the last of the Primes has literally nothing to go on in regards to how he should approach the situation on the surface or who he should trust.

His best guess as to how to proceed go along the lines of 'Megatron will know what to do'. The child was literally just made Prime after at least two years of uninterrupted solitude, he just wants his big bro back.

However his welcome to the surface is not at all warm.

The first thing he is greeted with upon climbing out from the depths with the Matrix's guidance is a war-torn hellscape. Its not too terrible since the war is still in its early years but it still shocks Optimus.

Not long after emerging he is caught in a conflict between Autobot and Decepticon forces. On one side he sees his once brother slaughtering mechs and leading a brutal charge, and on the other side he sees Autobot forces behaving equally atrociously.

-Cue the drama as a completely oblivious Prime is caught between his morals and his family, his duty and his desires, and whatever PTSD and strange habits from the deep he managed to pick up.

This won't end horribly at all

-

If anyone feels like messing with this or expanding upon it be my guest.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (3)

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

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

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

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

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

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

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A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

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Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

[arduadastra]

Giving Javier a handjob under the table at a gathering dinner thing

A/N: Oh, oh my LORD anon this is juicy and I have every intention of taking this way too far because once Javi enters my writing space he makes me FERAL (This man needs to be stopped and apparently all it takes is a well-placed hand) I took the liberty of this being a just them thing (Hope that's ok!)

Warnings: NSFW - NO MINORS (18+) Semi-public sex, HJ's, swearing, Javi in a button-down.

Masterlist

You and Javi had been together exactly one year to the day and you had both decided to celebrate the occasion. Neither of you were big on anniversaries but Escobar was gone, the Cali cartel were finished and you had both just wanted to be together and enjoy being safe for the first time in…well…ever.

Choosing what to do had been a struggle though, neither of you wanting to spend too much money but also wanting to do something that meant you could be alone together. It felt like you had both been constantly around others and you needed the space. Eventually, after one too many arguments (Javi had put his foot down when you mentioned the mall and a movie) you decided on dinner.

You were both a bit clueless to the area, spending most of your time either on stakeouts out of the city or in the embassy so you had relied on Murphy’s recommendation for the restaurant and you had to say, the guy had good taste. It was quiet, not overly fancy but still had the atmosphere that meant dressing up was encouraged. It was cosy, exposed bricks and small lamps lighting the tables in a soft hue and when you sat down in the booth you couldn’t help but admire how the soft shadows danced across Javi’s face.

Your admiration certainly didn’t stop there. Javier had definitely pulled out all the stops for tonight and you were loving every second. He had chosen a dark suit with no tie, just a white shirt with the first few buttons left open that exposed his collarbone to your gaze. His suit jacket framed his broad shoulders deliciously and you could’ve outright moaned when he shrugged it off to roll his shirt sleeves up - that man knew all your buttons and he was damn well pushing them.

Javi cast you a knowing smirk as he picked up his menu and you watched as his large hands ran the length of the paper. His fingers tracing the edge of the menu much like he does on your skin and you feel the familiar heat flare-up in your gut. You weren't alone though, you knew you were having the same effect on him but he was just better at hiding it. You were wearing a dark red wrap dress that accentuated your hips, curves and ass, one of Javi’s favourite attributes of you, and you leant forward to show off a hint of a black lace bra.

He side-eyed you at that and you smirked, being partners with Javi long before you got together meant you could observe the man’s tells and from the flex of his jaw, you knew he was holding back. He loved red on you and he loved black lace too, you knew that. As you sat there and stared at the man in front of you, an idea crept into your head. How far would his resolve would go?

Making the man who fought drug traffickers on the streets and chased criminals across buildings while handling high-level negotiations without breaking a sweat crack would be a challenge. But you loved the idea of riling him up in such a public setting, the idea was too tempting.

You slid a hand onto his thigh, feigning ignorance as you pretended to read the menu in your hands whilst also making sure to rub slow circles just above his kneecap. His leg shifts under your ministrations and you slide it higher. He clears his throat.

Your hand stays when the waitress drops by to ask for your drinks order. As always Javi orders a whiskey and you order wine, loving the subtle hitch of Javi’s voice when you press your fingers into his inner thigh while he thanks the server. She walks away and he scowls at you, “What do you think you’re doing Hermosa?”

You shrug, fingers now trailing up his inseam and he clenches his thighs together, one hand dropping to clasp yours in a tight grip, “I said what are you doing?” You’re about to reply but then the waitress comes back with your drinks and Javi switches on his most charming smile and you can’t help but graze his crotch as he looks at the waitress, a small possessive side to you loving the widening of his eyes. You trail the spot, mapping it out under your fingers as she shamelessly flirts with him, a silent reminder of who he belongs to.

As she leaves, you lean into his ear, picking up your wineglass, your other hand remains preoccupied, “I’m having fun Javi, why? You think you can’t handle it?” You take a sip and squeeze slightly and Javi shuts his eyes, legs widening in silent acceptance.

Game on.

You drop your hand from his leg and let him settle, he exhales harshly and after a second brings the whiskey glass to his lips. You wait for him to take a sip before drifting your hand back up the outside of this thigh now and you see his jaw tick when he swallows. You lean across and place a gentle kiss on the tense spot before sliding your hand up and over, lingering on his crotch once more. Javi raises an eyebrow to you, a silent 'Is that all you've got?'

The next time you press, the waitress is back asking for your food order and while you give yours, under the table you’re playing with Javi’s slack button and you pop it open silently as he gives his. Your fingertips graze his boxers as you study his profile and while he doesn’t give anything away on his face, his clenched fist tells another story.

You finger the coarse hair just below the elastic and he manages a tense nod as the waitress asks him if he wanted fries. She seems annoyed by his lack of response and you revel in it. Javi doesn't dare look at you this time as she finally retreats, just takes a sip of his drink. You decide to do the same, the alcohol warming your body and leaving you feeling weightless in your actions. Your fingertips continue to slip just shy of his waistband before slipping over his boxers to cup him under his slacks.

Javi kicks his leg out, foot hitting the opposite table leg and he looks around, clearly seeing if anyone can see his compromising position, “Shit” he murmurs, “What if someone sees?”

You grin, “So what if they do Javi? Besides, it's pretty dark I think we’ll be okay” and with that, your hand begins a slow rhythm over his clothed cock and you hear a soft moan from the man beside you.

“Sssh Jav…”

He bites back a groan as your fingers slip against his warm skin again and delve lower, your fingers grazing his length as you sigh, “Only I get to hear those pretty sounds.” Javi nods frantically before realising the public nature of your acts and covers it by drinking again, seeming desperate in his gulps as he rolls his hips. Emboldened by his reaction, you softly wrap your hands around him and pull softly, knuckles rubbing against the inside of his zipper and you feel his hips buck again into your grip.

You take a moment to glance around and happy that no one can see what’s transpiring between the two of you, you look back at Javi’s face and you love what you see. His eyes have darkened significantly, pupils blown as you feel him harden further under the table and his bottom lip is swollen from his biting teeth. His usual golden-brown eyes are swimming in unbridled lust and as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, you can’t help but lean across and kiss him.

You keep it G rated, simply pressing your lips to his and relishing in the feel of his moustache against your lip. You slip your hand lower and start pumping him properly, swallowing his moans as you do. You lean back and look at his dishevelled face and continue, watching him white knuckle the table cloth beneath a clenched fist.

You kiss him again then against his lips you ask, “Think I can make you cum? Make you cum in front of everyone here with only the two of us knowing about the mess you’re gonna make all over yourself, baby?”

Javi pants, jaw slack and mouth open at your question. You take his silence as the opportunity to pull him totally free, exposing him to the warm air of the restaurant. Javi leans back and watches you, an intense stare you rarely see with your clothes on and you start moving in earnest. You slide towards him further, bracketing your bodies into the corner of the booth and you watch his pulse thrum under the tight skin of his neck.

You hasten the rhythm and his fingers slip against the wood where they grip the table, the other coming up to cover his mouth in a cough that sounds suspiciously like a groan as you thumb the head of his cock. Your thumb comes back slick and you use it to wet his shaft, now openly staring at Javi as he slowly falls apart under your hands…well hand.

You can tell he’s close through the frantic look in his eye, hesitant to release in such a public setting but you coax it out of him, running your lips against his neck and kissing him lightly as you say, “Come on Jav, cum for me, make a mess all under this fancy table.” and he does.

You've got to give the guy credit, he’s dead silent and you know how loud the man can be when he cums. He hunches slightly and gasps, chin tilted downwards as he watches himself release all over your fist and drip onto his pressed slacks. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue as you keep the pressure, knowing how sensitive he gets once he's cum. He opens his eyes, cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment and arousal and he sets his gaze on you.

It’s like the spell is broken and with that as he pushes your slick hand away and shoves himself back in, hips rising as he closes the zipper and button then grabs the napkin from his side, offering it to you with a raised brow, urgency clear on his face.

You notice the waitress just beginning to come over with the food and you offer Javi a wink before sticking your fingers in your mouth and sucking, popping your fingers clean with a smirk as the waitress comes over with the plates.

Javi is speechless.

You knew she must’ve seen something so you offer an apology as Javi still stares at you gobsmacked, “Sorry! Red wine gets everywhere sometimes and with these prices, I’m not wasting a drop!”

She laughs politely and set your food down as she begins to saunter away, pouting slightly when she notices Javi’s full attention is focused on you now rather than her backside.

You pick up your knife and fork and start eating, ignoring the shell shocked Javier at your side. He finally brings himself out of his stupor and grabs his plate, forcefully shovelling some pasta into his mouth before leaning across and hissing, "You've got five minutes to eat then we're leaving."

You frown, "But we just got here!"

Javi laughs darkly, "Oh we aren't leaving here cariño, just the table because after that stunt you just pulled? I'm taking you to that bathroom and fucking you, not in silence," He laughs again, "Fuck that. I'm going to make you moan for me so loudly that everyone in this god damn place will know exactly what you've been doing."

It's your turn to be stunned into silence.

"And then? We are coming right back here for dessert. I want everyone to know what a bad girl looks like after she's been thoroughly fucked."

He continues eating.

You stare at your food. Your pussy throbs at Javi's words and your head swims with the images he's presented. You hear him chide from beside you, "quedan cuatro minutos, mi amor..."

You've never eaten something so fast in your life.

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

I dedicate this also to @rattlethe-stars because both of us are slaves to Javier Peña and we have no shame in admitting it.

[moon3thereal]

Hiii one request! Nat meets R in a bar or something while she is trying to be far away from the problems of being an avenger,the read head tries to have a date with her and R accepts, then in the midel of the date R takes the initiative and start to be a little/much sassy 😏 and convinces Nat to leave the place to be in somewhere more private. But when they are alone R start to fight with Nat trying to knock her out but Nat pin her down and asks why she is doing that, R admitt that she is a widow and was sent to cach her and bring her back to the red room. The end can be as you wish.

Thanks!!

Title: Eyes on the prize

genre: fluff, angst-ish

warnings: guns, violence, alcohol, knives, mention of memory removal

the bottom: (dont ask why, but leah forced me to credit her at the bottom and technically i did!) credits to @midgardianweasley for practically co-writing and building the foundation for this fic, i could NOT have done this without her, thank you so much, and please go check out her fics everyone!

a/n: one of the longest fics i've written, i hope you guys enjoy! ends with fluff dw

2.7 K words

Natasha brushed a hand over her face in fatigue, she’d been to more than 3 countries within the time span of a week for missions and had done so much paperwork she thought she might pull out her hair if she laid eyes on another mission report. The cadets that S.H.I.E.L.D recruited, in her eyes, were no more than children who didn’t even know how to hold a gun properly, not to mention shoot.

What the Russian needed right now was tequila, a shit load of tequila. Fortunately, there was a bar that the redhead frequented whenever she needs to put some distance between her and the problems of the avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D

Picking up her leather jacket that was tossed carelessly on her couch and the keys to her Chevrolet, Natasha set off to a bar about 3 blocks down the Avengers compound, in fifteen minutes, she was met with a glowing neon sign, she was regular at the dim bar and was almost always seen there on a Friday night with her red hair in a braid and several locks framing her face in effortless elegance

Usually, people didn’t approach her and if they did, she never paid much attention to them. However, today when she sat down, there was a y/h/c haired woman already locating the seat next to her with a beer in her hand. You were idly swirling the beer in its bottle and staring off into space when the redhead settled down in her usual seat.

She ordered 10 tequila shots and you raised a brow at her “you sure you can handle that?” she turned to you with a smirk “I can handle twice as much as that but I have work tomorrow” you hummed in acknowledgement “I haven’t seen you around here before, you’re new?” Natasha asked downing a shot without so much as a grimace “I’m looking for a job, bartender” you said propping your foot up on the counter “well you sure don’t look like one” she remarks and you frowned “is there a specific look for a bartender?” and she downed a second shot and gestured to a woman taking orders from drunk customers “sure there is, there, like her”

You scoffed “hm maybe I’d be an exception to the standard” the corner of the redhead’s lips quirked up “good, it’d be nice to see some change around here” you stretched your arms out in front of you “it would be, if they hired me, but they didn’t, which is why I’m sitting around moping about the fact they rejected such a pretty face” Natasha downed another shot nodding in agreement. You looked at her, genuinely impressed at her alcohol tolerance. “Your mom never taught you that it’s rude to stare?” your face fell for a second at the mention of your mother, she was dead, like all the mothers of the widows who attempted to pry their daughters out of the red room’s grip. But you restored your poker face before she could catch your look of discomposure.

“If staring at you was considered rude, then the whole world would be douchebags” you quipped. Natasha only laughed and shook her head at your obvious flirting “you come here often then?” you asked after watching her down another shot “obviously not enough if I can’t remember a pretty face like yours.” The redhead said lightly. she was studying you though, she noticed how you were sitting, back straight, shoulders back, she wasn’t unfamiliar to that posture at all, in the red room, all widows were trained to be on the defense, on alert at all times, always anticipating anything and everything, nothing could go amiss that way. And she’d also noticed the way you had barely taken a sip of your drink, resorting to swishing the liquid idly in its bottle.

Against everything logical and her own unmistakable and uncannily accurate instinct, Natasha stopped her brain from analyzing and evaluating these signs and allowed them to be overlooked as a side effect of her falling into a trance simply by observing you, how your eyebrows arched perfectly, the curve of your lips, the perfect ridge of your nose and the captivating color of your eyes and how all of your facial parts are completely flawless to her, she could’ve sworn she’d seen you somewhere before. Natasha had met many interesting people in her line of work but she’d never yet met one as intriguing as you were, the quintessential mysterious girl in the bar.

If you had told her two days ago, that she would ask a stranger in a bar over to her apartment to drink with her, she’d have called you crazy. However, it didn’t seem so crazy to her now, it was unlike Natasha, but she asked you to come over to have a drink, an unofficial, casual date. You raised an eyebrow “now, now, was that an attempt to get me drunk?” you clicked your tongue in faux disapproval “simply seizing the opportunity to get to know you better” she said with a shrug. You hid a smile behind your beer bottle, taking the first sip of the night. You had tried to convince yourself that it was simply your success at scoring a date with the Russian therefore giving you a chance to lure her somewhere private to eliminate her, but something in you told you it was more than that, the way she smiled, how her lips curved and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted, it was all so familiar yet you simply couldn’t retrieve the memory.

But one thought was clear, raging even, at the back of your mind. You didn’t want to hurt her, whoever she was, you didn’t want to lay a hand on her, couldn’t bear to see her in pain, you’d defy Dreykov, defy the red room, defy Russia and all of their stupid organizations if it meant you could figure out this mystery of a woman, discovering her secrets one by one, layer by layer. Not to report back to the red room but just to see Natasha as she was. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way, it never worked that way, if you’d done it, Dreykov would’ve been notified and you’d be dead before the sun rises the next day. Your eyebrows knitted together momentarily at the thought that the woman before you would be dead at your hands before dawn before you arranged your features to hide the moment of doubt.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. She’s a problem, a threat, a danger to the future of our widows, I need her terminated, and there’s no one better than you, y/n, for the job. Don’t let me down” Dreykov’s voice flashed in your mind, his orders were clear, kill her or there will be consequences.

Natasha’s voice brought you back to the conversation “what do you do? Before you decided to look for a job at this dingy bar I mean” she asked, the shot glasses were all empty now where there had been at least 5 more before, you must’ve been too entranced by your thoughts, or how strands of her hair had escaped her braid and curly wisps of ginger hair were framing her face perfectly. You both had decided to get out of the bar, more patrons had walked in making it stuffy and crampy, you were walking out the door with Natasha, presumably to her apartment “a primary teacher, English.” You said without hesitation, you always spent hours reciting the information of your cover, sometimes you felt as if you were really the person you were pretending to be with how fluently you could deliver the lines you’d practiced in front of a mirror until they were flawless.

She laughed; a clear, melodious laugh that made your cheeks heat up “you? An English teacher? Wow.” She said “what are you gonna say I don’t look like one?” you glared at her with indignation on your face “no, you don’t, you don’t at all” she said, her expression turning into a serious one, for a second your heart dropped, thinking your cover had been blown and you’d have to resort to shooting her in the middle of the street, which wasn’t exactly ideal “you look like a zookeeper” she said biting her lip to hold back her laugh at the look on your face. you raised your eyebrows in amusement “that wasn’t funny” you said “oh but it was” the redhead laughed showing her impossibly white teeth and her cheeks were pink from walking in the cold night air, you couldn’t help but stare at her lips, her perfectly kissable- snap out of it y/l/n, you thought to yourself, that isn’t what you’re here to do.

“But seriously, I’m actually happy about how tonight is going, better than drinking alone” she voiced out, you looked to her with a smirk evident on your face, you’d just reached her apartment and she was unlocking the door letting you in behind her. “Going soft for me Romanoff?” she scoffed before her face fell into an expression of momentary confusion, in a split second you both had your guns pointed at each other “who are you? How do you know my name?” the carefree Natasha was gone now, and in her place stood the infamous black widow.

Deciding that hiding your identity from her was pointless now, you attempted to attack, kicking the gun from her hand and vaulting to get your legs around her neck to choke her. Unfortunately for you, that was textbook red room and a trick Natasha had used countless times on enemies of various sizes. Blocking you, the Russian pinned you, one hand on the small of your back and the other at the back of your neck, holding you down “I knew I should’ve spent the night alone.” Refusing to be defeated so easily, you swept her feet out from under her, but once you got up, she’d punched you in your side causing you to double over in pain. She moved to her gun but you weren’t the star student of the red room for no reason, in the blink of an eye, you had a knife to her throat.

The both of you had stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily before you felt a familiar feeling of cool metal, the barrel of a gun, through your thin shirt. “You didn’t think I just had one, did you?” she said pressing it into your side in warning. Gritting your teeth in frustration, you released her with a shove and dropped your knife with your hands raised.

“If it was anyone else, in any other situation, I would’ve shot you and be done with it, but you’re intriguing, there’s a story behind this. I trust you won’t pull anything?” she asked watching you stare down the barrel of her Glock. You nodded once, albeit grudgingly. To your utter surprise, she placed the gun down and gestured to a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down herself. You’d utterly demolished the rest of her kitchen with your fight. Sitting in the chair rigidly, Natasha raised an eyebrow at your silence, you noted how if you made a run for it, she had the ability to shoot you before you even stood up with the proximity of her hand and her gun. Her gun, you had the exact half to the one on the floor across the room, your gun. You furrowed your eyebrows, you had one half of the twin guns, the other half was hers. But that didn’t make sense, unless there was a reason why she’d seemed familiar to you?

Natasha seemed to think the same, her eyes flickering from the gun just inches away from her fingertips to the one across the room, hers had your initials engraved at the bottom, and yours hers. But you’ve never understood why there was two letters engraved on to your favored gun “N.R. Natasha Romanoff” you said, more to yourself than to her. She spoke two letters, your name.

“What is this, who are you?” you said struggling to even out your breathing. “y/n y/l/n” she said. “no it cant be” she said disbelief streaked over her face. “The red room is gone, I killed Dreykov” she said shaking her head and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes “I hate to break it to you, but Dreykov is very much alive” you said “I’m a widow, I was sent here to kill you, you’re a threat to them” you said staring her directly in the eyes. “Whatever you did, unsuccessful” you said. “do you even remember me?” she said a crease in her forehead and looked up at you “you seem familiar. But no, not really” all hostility had gone out from both your voices, you were both just doing your jobs

She started humming a song, the music sounded eerily familiar, the same feeling you’d felt previously looking at her painted lips flooded you. Familiar, but the memory was just out of reach. “with the lights out, it’s less dangerous, here we are now” she started singing softly “entertainers” you breathed out disbelievingly. It suddenly came rushing back to you

When you’d snuck a radio from your trainers’ office

When you’d sneak out of the cuffs on the beds at night to share hidden kisses with each other

How you’d trained side by side

How a redheaded girl had been by your side when you threw up on your first kill

Natalia. Natasha. You had loved her in secret, between the shadow and the soul. You had loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Shock was written clearly over your features. You hadn’t seen her since she’d gotten out, ten years ago. Now that you remembered, you couldn’t believe you didn’t recognize her. The same fiery red hair, same eyebrows, same emerald green eyes, same smile. Same Natalia.

Guilt rushed in like an overwhelming wave, Natasha couldn’t believe that you were still alive, she’d attempted to search for you, almost went crazy when you went completely off grid after the Budapest mission. She’d meant to defect, and then go back for you. She had it all planned out, but you seemed to vanish off the face of the earth “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, I tried, I really did. You were just gone, I thought you were dead” You stared back at her in shock “its okay, we were separated, I was sent to Italy, remember? It wasn’t your fault.” You said still in a daze

After moments of confusion over how you didn’t remember someone that important to you, an expression of realization found its way onto your face. Memory removal, of course. The red room had the technology, attachment to anyone, anyone at all was nothing but a weakness. Love is for children, that was what the red room had burned into the widows’ minds.

Hatred shone in your eyes when you realized that Dreykov had practically had his scientists cut the part of you that had loved Natasha out of your brain. “you’re an avenger. Means Dreykov won’t hurt you” you contemplated “or your comrades” you supported your chin on your heel of your palm. Natasha nodded slowly in confusion. “They can’t afford to” she said “so if I was your comrade, they would lose any and all ability to do me harm” she nodded again “I suppose so, yes” when you both locked eyes again, you both knew what the other was thinking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Natasha asked with a smirk “to burn the red room to the ground? Yes.” You said with a matching smirk

If love was for children, you were both toddlers. After everything the red room and the world had done to keep you apart, you had somehow found your way back to each other again. And you weren’t planning on letting her out of your sight any time soon.

[omnitf]

Credit for this image goes to @dissolving-time. Story is mature for some language. This is another story from the Coach Stone universe. I hope you all enjoy it. :D If you’d like to see more of these stories, please join my Patreon.

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Stone Cold

“Coach said you have to get your shot, bro.”

I gazed at the meathead that had once been my fellow prisoner. He’d already donned the dog tags that were locked in his footlocker. Muscle rippled over his body as he gazed at me holding one of the biggest rifles I have ever seen in my life.

“Chapman, do you know what that is?” I asked as I eyed the gun warily. The caliber alone would be enough to splatter my brains all over the wall.

“The name’s Champ, bro.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly. Had they really brainwashed him so thoroughly?

“Your name is Lance Chapman, from Enfield, North Carolina. You specialize in computer programming, like me. We were brought here against our wills, remember?”

“Nah, bro.” “Champ” let out a deep vapid chuckle. His camouflage draped over his legs, but I could see the hints of growing muscle bunching, just waiting for a good pump to press them tightly against the confines of the cloth. “Coach wants my bod first, my brains second. Huhuh.” He grinned at me, revealing perfectly white and straightened teeth.

I’d hoped to reason with him, but it was clear he was beyond that. I brandished my own pair of dog tags. Like I said, computers were my thing, both programming and the hardware. It took me a while, but I managed to get my lockbox to open, too. And without reducing myself to a wannabe army poster boy. “I have my tags, Champ. You can’t keep me here. You know once I get my tags, I’m supposed to leave. I’m supposed to report to Coach, remember?”

“But you’re not gonna, are you, bro?” he asked seriously as his brow furrowed. “You just wanna get out.”

“I have to get out to see Coach, now don’t I?” The exit was right there in bold black lettering. The lock had already disengaged on cue when I seized my tags. I just needed to get past him. If I could distract him somehow or incapacitate him, I could run.

Chapman spread his legs in a broader stance as he planted himself firmly in front of the door. “You’re not ready to see Coach yet, little bro. And Coach hasn’t called you.”

“I am ready.”

“Prove it.”

I knew a few basics from martial arts training in my youth. I’d been fortunate enough to keep up the practice in my free hours. The meathead in front of me may have had a weapon, but we were in tight quarters. It would be difficult to get that barrel pointing at me if I could stay close. And while he may have had raw strength, I had experience. I also still had my wits about me. I sighed and let my shoulders droop as I approached him. “Look, Champ, just ... let me go, okay? You and I both know this is wrong. It’s against the law to kidnap someone.”

“No can do, little bro. Coach says we need more training. Coach says we have a project to help with. Coach says muscle CHAMPs like me need to train and obey. I listen to Coach. I obey. This Champ o—”

The mantra was what I was waiting for. It doesn’t matter how big you get if you haven’t got the trained reflexes to deal with a sudden change yet. And Chapman’s mind had been either short circuited or rewired to reinforce his thuggery. I’d heard it enough times through the door. It wasn’t soundproofed. I think that was deliberate on the part of this “Coach” to give us a taste of what’s in store. Demoralizing a captive is a large part of ensuring that he or she remains compliant, after all. And I’d heard enough, “This meathead obeys,” to know this was a fulltime operation made heavy on the brainwashing. It had to be to change someone so drastically. This wasn’t just a sign of subtle change. This was downright breaking them and building them back up again into the equivalent of obedient machines.

In this case, it played in my favor, and I hate to think of it this way, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was grateful for it. The mantra made him vulnerable. I laid a hand gently on his shoulder, being sure to get close enough that he couldn’t put the barrel against me. His eyes were glassy and unseeing as he uttered the mantra that he and everyone else like him had been conditioned to speak.

Then I took him down. It was simple to sweep his feet out from under him, and the move flowed like water. Bruce Li would be proud. I followed up with a heavy blow to the side of his head with my boot. Part of our imprisonment had included removing our personal affects, so I had no idea where my street clothes were. I didn’t give the blow enough force for any serious damage, but it would be enough to daze him, maybe even knock him out if I was lucky.

I threw the door open while he groaned on the floor. I managed all of maybe two steps before my arms was seized and I was slammed against the wall. I swear, my bones vibrated from the impact. I saw a helmet with a reflective visor and the broadest chest I had ever seen in my life. This man was huge. And unfortunately for me, he was also very skilled. My arm was yanked behind my back faster than I had time to process. He pulled, and I felt my socket strain to send stabs of pain through my arm and neck. Another faceless mook strode forward. But unlike Chapman, this one was decked in full body armor.

“Well done, recruit. You’ve passed Coach’s test. You will serve in Coach Stone’s cyber unit and in Research and Development. You will obey.”

“Like hell, I will,” I swore. That rewarded me with another painful jerk of my arm while a targeted blow forced me to my knees.

“Meathead recruit will comply.” The man withdrew a syringe from a side pocket and tapped the chamber to dislodge any air bubbles, then pulled off the protective cap with a deliberate casual air of the well-practiced. The substance was green, and the soldier had no qualms over pulling my sleeve up. I squirmed, but a yank of my other arm followed by a crushing iron grip on my free arm left me tense as he stabbed the needle into my arm and depressed the syringe. He removed the needle casually and replaced the cap, then inserted the syringe into another pouch.

The two visored faces stared at one another for the briefest of moments in a silent exchange. Then they nodded as the one who injected me rose, turned and entered the room where I had been held prisoner. A low groan emanated from the space, followed by a series of loud cracks.

“Rise, meathead. Follow.”

The voice that emanated in reply was deeper than I remembered. “This meathead obeys...” An even greater shock greeted me when the lumbering brute emerged. Chapman’s muscle mass had increased dramatically, and the man’s skull had completely reformed. Sharp, angular, square features blunted his face now, and his eyes were a vivid shade of green. The oversized gun didn’t look so ridiculous for him anymore.

“What the hell...?” I murmured.

“Meathead Champ will listen to orders. Meathead Champ will obey. Meathead Champ will fire on his roommate on command. Meathead Champ will prepare to fire now.”

“What?” I balked. I wanted to squirm again, but once more, my captor brought me to heel. I tried to shift out of his grip, but the hold was too strong. Even if I went limp, he’d still be able to haul me back up again. That didn’t stop me from trying, however.

I heard a whine not unlike the sound you hear in a sci-fi movie when a blaster is being charged or a bomb is being primed. The barrel was soon directed at my face. My heart hammered as Chapman uttered his mindless acknowledgement.

“Meathead Champ obeys. This meathead is ready to fire.”

“Fire.”

There was light, a strange tingling that bordered on the pleasant, and then blackness. I came to in an empty barracks. When I rose, everything felt ... heavy, awkward. The sight of the muscles bulging against the fabric of my shirt was more than enough to unsettle me as my throat clenched and my mouth went dry. I wanted to scream, but at the same time I knew better. I journeyed over my torso, my arms, everything. All of it felt in order, albeit significantly enhanced. It was my face I dreaded the most. And true to my fears, I could feel each sharply defined contour from my own transformation that was doubtless facilitated by the rifle. As a test, I ran through pi to see just how far in the infinite decimal sequence I could get. Then I searched through the other parts of my brain. I felt no compulsion, no absentmindedness, no blank emptiness or cotton or wool. I was clear, surprisingly so, given how quickly my mind seemed to jump from place to place.

“Comfortable?”

The question came out of nowhere, and I balked and bawled as my body sent me crashing into another bunk with the increased force of my new mass.

“Well, clearly not anymore,” the voice replied urbanely. I rounded on the figure only to see a man standing at least a head taller than I. His manner was relaxed and composed. His blond hair flickered like silver in the light. And though he was completely relaxed, his body oozed that smug command and intimidation that subconsciously demanded respect from those around him. “Please, take a moment to acclimate yourself. I find a blow to the shins is never pleasant.”

I decided to stick with sitting, rather than rick another launch with a body I had absolutely no experience with. “Who ... are you?” I winced at the depth of my voice. Logic only dictated it would have changed with the rest of my physique, but I had hoped it wouldn’t.

“A scientist of sorts. Biochemistry is my specialty, though I’ve branched out into many other fields.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you just stay there and we’ll have a nice chat between the two of us?” He lowered his broad frame onto the bed I had just launched myself from and gazed at me with vivid blue eyes. “My name is Stone. And you doubtless have many questions and expletives you want to voice, most likely not in that order.”

I felt like a broken record as curse after curse and swear after swear flowed out of me in an invective tirade. Denunciations and questions boomed from me like the retort of a cannon, emphasized by a number of curses and swears until that was all I heard winding down ... and down ... and down....

“Are you finished?”

A plaintive, almost defeated, “Fuck,” hissed from me as I rested my head in two massive hands.

“Glad you could get that out of your system. Now, do you have any real questions you wanted to ask me?”

“Why?” I finally managed to ask.

“You’re a programmer. You should understand. If a program doesn’t work the way it’s intended, you go into the code, find the bug, and fix it. Sometimes it’s messy work, but the end result is worth it. I’m doing that on a global scale, or at least I will in time. Getting rid of bigotry, erasing the divide between the strong and the weak to produce a better world for everyone.”

“You broke Chapman.”

“Champ is happy where he is. He chose it. He wanted it. You two had virtually the same IQ scores and talents, at least when it came to computer engineering and programming. Unlike you, though, Champ was fighting conditions that would make it so that he could never enjoy the same level of fitness and activity that you do. Such a lack eventually results in fantasies, a longing to experience what one never has had. Chapman threw it all away because he reveled in the chance to grow and swell. And, I admit, I fed that desire while he tried to hack the mainframe. I let him see where he would ultimately end up. And I gave him a simple choice. He accepted my offer to obey. He lied to you, pretended to fail, and complied with everything I told him whenever he signed in. He is living his fantasy now, and is deliriously happy to be receiving training as a part of my Meatheads.

Rage curled my lip, but I couldn’t do a thing. I wanted to lunge at the man, strangle him, but my body wouldn’t comply. All I could do was sit and watch.

“You may have noticed by now, but my meatheads can’t do anything against me. I’m their authority figure, their alpha. Or as they like to call me, Coach. You can’t attack me because I told you to stay there. And though you may want to deny it, I know that deep down, you’re enjoying the sensation of your new body just as much as Champ is.”

“How?”

“My formula.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “It’s not perfect yet, but the iterations I’ve produced from my original notes have been very useful in extending my control. I don’t want to be a dictator, but I’m not about to let the world stay as it is either. Shadow politics, assassinations, pointless bombings and wars, genocides, suicides. This world is a mess. I have the tools to fix that mess once and for all. And I intend to do just that. To sum it up for you, I’m my original test subject. And the formula worked wonders for me as a result, but it also rendered me ... incapacitated for a time. As a result, much of my research was lost, and I’ve had to rebuild using different iterations of my creation until I can find that special mix. On the plus side, as derivatives of my original formula, it seems that anyone exposed automatically becomes subservient to me. It makes things much simpler when dealing with intruders and espionage. It also helps with recruiting.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because I wanted you to sample the goods. That, and because there are still those who can resist the full effects of my injections and other sources of integration for a certain period of time. As I said, the formula still needs work. But I like to use the less effective iterations for special cases like you. Your specialty in coding and computer engineering is something I need right now. And I want you to keep your mind focused on the task at hand, rather than on weights and muscle. That’s why I’m assigning you to our MEAT department.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I think we both know you can’t.” Stone smirked. “For the record, MEAT stands for Muscle Enhancement and Accelerated Transformation. You’ll be helping us to design and improve a number of methods and technologies to help smooth subject transitions into becoming Meatheads. And more importantly, on how to preserve their skills and knowledge while still incorporating them into the collective. In other words, research and development. Your specialty, if I recall correctly.”

“I don’t want to.”

Stone chuckled. “On the contrary. I think you do.”

“I do—” My tongue stuck. My jaw locked. I tried again. “I do—” Again, I had the same problem. Again, I couldn’t finish. “I ... do....”

Stone’s smirk widened into a sneer. “Glad we got that settled. Oh, and for the safer ones, I want you to experiment on yourself. I’m intrigued to see just what a smart obedient Meathead will look and act like.

I groaned another curse, which only further emphasized my captor’s glee. “Spoken like a true Meathead.”

“Whatever....”

“That’s right. Whatever I say, Meathead.” The cocky arrogance was gone, leaving behind a chilling glare that could cut through diamond. “And you will address me with respect as either Coach Stone, Coach, or Sir. Do I make myself clear?”

I clenched my mouth shut.

“Answer me,” Stone demanded.

“Yes, ... Sir.”

“Good.” His eyes flashed as he rose from his position. “Now follow me. I’ll guide you to your lab. You have a lot of work ahead of you, don’t you, Meathead?”

I couldn’t stop myself as I rose to follow him. “Yes, Sir, Coach.”

“That’s right.” He chuckled. “On second thought, let’s get you dressed first. Then we can visit the lab.”

“Whatever you say, Coach.”

“Good boy,” he purred. I shuddered in revulsion, both at his cold dominance and ... at the jolt of pleasure that surged with that acknowledgement. If that was how it felt now, how would I feel after a few months or years of working under him? Would I be able to resist?

...

Would I even want to?

I shuddered again. Hopefully, I would be able to find a solution before Coach made me a permanent team member. Or worse yet, before I did.

[ptersparkers]

pogue v. kook

summary: after an unexpected event that leaves you in shambles, topper thorton, rafe cameron, and kelce prove to be unliekly friends. 

warnings: typos, probably. 

notes: i had this idea and posted it, to which i got some good feedback, and then @anonymous0writer​ entertained all of my ideas so i thought why not have her write some of it. i’ve also made an option to be removed from my taglist. it’s getting quite long and there will be no hard feelings if you want to be removed. 

this is my gif. please credit if using. 

You were not a Kook. 

Not by blood, anyway. Kiara and Sarah had roped you in on the “Kook lifestyle” over the years with sleepovers and other shenanigans, and despite being the only one out of the trio who was a Pogue, it never felt like you were disparaged. Upon meeting them for the first time at fifteen when you moved to the Outer Banks, you knew that these girls would be the type of people you’d want to keep around for a while. Now that all of you were about to embark on the next chapter of your lives, it seemed like the perfect summer to relax before leaving for college.

You were aware, mostly because of JJ, the attitude Pogues held towards the residents on the other side of the island. Then came Sarah dating Topper, Rafe’s insistence on annoying the absolute hell out of all of you, and Kelce’s back and forth attitude when he was with his friends versus when he was alone. It was tiring and even you had to admit life would’ve been better if you were ignorant towards the “Kook vs. Pogue” debacle. You were a Pogue through and through. 

When JJ asked you to be his girlfriend eight months ago, you felt like things were falling into place and your life was running how it should be. You two had been the first to break the sacred rule that John B. seemed to be the only one to reinforce and none of the other Pogues had any objections about your relationship as you two had been pining after one another for what seemed like an eternity. 

But a month ago was when you felt a sudden change. It was unspoken, subtle, and hard to pinpoint. JJ became less available and wasn’t as forthcoming as he usually was. You could tell he became more reserved and it looked as if he had to force himself to sit next to you on the HMS Pogue or greet you with a kiss when you arrived at the Chateau. Your mind immediately went to his home life and you decided not to ask any questions, knowing JJ would much rather deal with it on his own and come to you if he needed anything. 

However, seeing all of the Pogues laugh at the far left table on the outdoor patio at The Wreck had put the first seed of doubt in your mind. JJ was sitting next to Kiara while John B. and Sarah were in front of them, Pope on the end, laughing loudly that you were sure the other beachgoers were able to hear them from the other end. You had been walking aimlessly, wanting to breath the scent of salt air and walked the short path you usually took when you wanted to clear your mind when you stumbled upon the Pogues hanging out with one another, seemingly without inviting you. You tried not to think about it too much. 

By this time, you noticed the sudden change in JJ’s mood and attitude. When you were around, he barely spoke and averted his gaze whenever you tried to reach out for him. His muscles would tense when you’d lean on his chest or grab his hand but you noticed he had no issue letting Pope jump on his back as a joke or hold his hand out for Kiara when she stepped off of the boat. 

The hurt in your chest grew every time you’d put your hypothesis -- you being the only person he shied away from -- to the test, it left you with internal pain as you realized JJ was talking to you less. He didn’t come over as often as he used to nor did he volunteer to walk you home like he always did. JJ almost never kissed you in public, opting to kiss your cheek instead or give you a loose hug as a way of saying hello or goodbye. But when you sat the other Pogues interacting with JJ, it was business as usual. You thought about talking to the others about what you’d been noticing, but every time you saw them around JJ, it was a reminder that they were friends long before you moved onto the island three years prior. 

You knew it wasn’t your place to talk to them about the issues you were having, and you knew you were most likely blowing this feeling out of proportion. You rationalized by telling yourself what you had been noticing was nothing but your mind playing tricks on you and it wasn’t like the Pogues were ignoring you in full. The lost touches JJ failed to make up, the eyes that dropped to the floor when you entered, the hushed tones when you spoke up felt like it happened more often as you started to overthink. It left you feeling hollow inside as if there was a vacuum of space that wasn’t able to be filled no matter how many times you tried to distract yourself. 

The feeling of uneasiness in your stomach first began when you and the rest of the Pogues were lounging in the living room of the Chateau one evening. You were on the couch with JJ, you were on one side while he was on the other side when, usually, you’d be perched on his chest. Your stomach sank as JJ laughed, eyes lighting up in the way you loved, when Kiara started dancing, hips swaying to the soft beat of music pumping from her phone. As soon as your blonde haired boyfriend practically leaped up once the girl gestured for him to join her, you felt your body disconnect. Almost as if you were watching the whole scene play out from outside your body. 

There you were, sitting on the couch, frozen and Kiara danced with your boyfriend when you struggled to get him to acknowledge you. You watched silently as Kiara moved her hips while JJ’s fingertips grazed the material of her shirt as he brought her closer, dancing along to the invisible steps Kiara set in place. It was like they’d been practicing for days, learning each other’s moves before they were even made. His body moved gracefully with hers, easy and free. You weren’t sure what hurt more, seeing JJ dance with Kiara the way he used to with you or your friends encouraging their antics and not questioning why they were so close.

Your throat closed up and it became hard to swallow as your heart gave a little ache. The feeling in your gut worsened when JJ moved naturally with Kiara because when he returned to you, he was stiff and tense under your desperate touch. His eyes wouldn’t light up with joy as they settled on you, if they did at all. However, they did as he spun Kiara around, her curls bouncing as his toothy grin emerged, lighting up the Chateau. The familiar smile did nothing to soothe your bad feeling. 

No matter how much you yearned for your familiar JJ back and the ease of hanging out with the Pogues, you didn’t move. Your fingers didn’t twitch and your eyes didn’t water as you watched the Pogues slowly join the dancing pair, the four a picturesque scene painted before your eyes, and you hated it. You hated the way they’d been slipping through your fingers and easing you out of their life so easily. You hated knowing they were just fine as friends before you entered the picture and that they wouldn’t bat an eye if you left. As the increasingly negative thoughts jumbled in your head, rising to a symphony of noise, you only saw red. The tears burning the back of your eyes stung, but you refused to cry in front of them. But there was no way you were going to stay, feeling hopeless as you watched your boyfriend and friends slip away. 

Pushing yourself up from the couch roughly, you stood, anger seizing your veins. “I’m leaving.” You stated, the words choppy and lined with barbed wire. 

The Pogues stopped, halting in their easy movements as they watched you leave in a hurry, steps thudding against the wooden porch and then crunching against the gravel as you fled. John B. looked at JJ with a glance but the blond shrugged and watched the door after you left, not bothering to walk out to ask why you had left so abruptly. 

Though that was the last time you set foot in the Chateau for the rest of the week, the sick feeling sitting dormant in your gut worsened. As much as you missed your friends -- when they wanted you around -- you refused to go back to the place you felt like you lost them. 

But in a cruel twist of fate, you were forced to as you had forgotten your board at John B’s. You begrudgingly headed back with a sigh. As you walked down the worn path of John B.’s drive way, intending to just grab the surfboard and leave, you had the sickening feeling that the wave was about to break. The wave had been building all this time, and now, as you arrived at the door of the Chateau, the ripped screen door flapping softly in the breeze as your hand was poised to open it, you knew it was gonna crash. 

With a sudden rush of bravery or stupidity, you pushed open the door of the Chateau, expecting the Pogues to be on the couch talking or eating. But they weren’t there. No one except the last two people you wanted to see. 

JJ and Kiara. JJ with his hands on Kiara’s hips as she sat on his lap, tongue down his throat. Kissing. JJ and Kiara kissing.

You stood on the threshold of the doorway and dropped your metal keys on the wooden floor, causing Kiara and JJ to look at you abruptly. Her eyes widened as she jumped off of JJ’s lap and pushed him away, JJ doing the same as you tried to pick your keys up without looking at either of them. Your hair kept getting in the way as you tried to hold back your tears, not wanting them to see your reaction when you picked up your house keys and turned around. 

“Wait!” JJ called out for you. You turned around for a brief moment and watched as he ran after you with Kiara in tow, standing awkwardly at the door frame with her hands crossed over her chest. She avoided your gaze as you looked back and forth between two people you thought were your friends.

“Are you serious?” you asked softly, your voice breaking in the process. JJ winced when he heard you speak. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, but he couldn’t find an excuse in his brain that was worthy enough.  

“With her?” you asked, finding it harder to fight back the tears. 

“Hey,” JJ said, a little edge in his voice that told you all you needed to know. “That’s your best friend.”

“No, she’s not,” you said. “Neither of you are my friends.” 

“Don’t walk away,” JJ pleaded as you turned around. He jumped forward to reach for your arm, pulling you back gently to ask for your forgiveness, but you knew he was only sorry because he got caught. 

“We’re done, JJ,” you said, pointing between the both of you. You turned towards Kiara and motioned the same. “We are not friends.” 

“Y/N,” Kiara said, her voice breaking the same as yours had done a mere moment ago when her guilt settled in. “I swear we didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“But it did happen,” you replied. “You were making out with my boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, and you feel guilty because I caught you doing it.”

“Don’t throw away our friendship,” JJ pleaded with erratic breaths. He could feel his chest compress as if someone had been throwing continuous punches without letting him take a breather. “We can fix this. We can fix us.” 

“As far as I’m concerned,” you began, throat tight, but you had to get the words out, “you threw away our friendship the minute you decided to cheat on me.” You turned towards Kiara. “How could you do this?” 

Kiara looked at you with glossy eyes and you recalled all the times you would’ve dropped everything to comfort her and dry her teary eyes, but now you couldn’t be bothered to give her a tissue. You scoffed and chose not to spare either one of them a glance as you turned away, your heart beating in your chest, running to the clearing above the beachside. 

You sat on a patch of rock overlooking the ocean below you with your knees to your chest, water droplets splashing on your kneecaps from tears you were trying to hold back. The sound of the birds chirping above you and the water roaring below you weren’t enough to drown the negative thoughts swimming in your head and you were left with a bitter, empty feeling as you wished to be one of the beachgoers who enjoyed the sunny day. 

“Mind if I sit?” a voice asked from behind you. You turned around after wiping your nose and underneath your eyes with the back of your hand and saw Topper Thorton standing, looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. 

“If you’re here to make fun of me,” you said, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t been crying a few minutes prior to his arrival, “I’m not really in the mood.” 

Topper shook his head and sat next to you, leaving adequate space between the both of you. When he realized you weren’t objecting or told him to go away, he mimicked your stance and pulled his knees to his chest as he looked at where your gaze was. Topper could hear your quiet breaths as you tried to calm yourself down and he tried not to look at the dark circles beneath your eyes. In truth, the boy hadn’t found any reason to find you annoying or hate you completely, but it wasn’t hard to put you into the group he never got along with. You tried to ignore his presence, finding that, for once, he was not being as annoying as he was when he was with Rafe and Kelce.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Topper asked awkwardly. You laughed ironically, wiped your eyes, and looked at him with an incredulous expression. 

“Why do you care? I don’t want to be the subject of whatever you and your friends laugh about.” 

Topper shook his head and he knew he had no reason to be mad at what you said. He knew how he and his friends were. There was no denying how brutal they could be as they teased your friends, that much Topper knew. But he couldn’t stop himself from following you when he saw you run past him hastily, disappearing into the bushes. Topper’s curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t explain the heartbreak he felt in his chest for you when he saw your usually bright and chirpy demeanor crumble into a teary-eyes ball on the warm rock below him.

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you. You stared ahead and wiped your eyes once again, not knowing how to respond. “I know what you think of me and I know you have no reason to trust what I’m saying, but I just want to know if you’re okay.” 

You stole a glance at Topper and saw he was looking at you already. His shoulders were relaxed and his attention seemed to be completely devoted to you, which was an odd thought to come across. You’d never spoken to Topper without Kelce or Rafe beside him, nor did you have any pleasant conversations with the boy who claimed to care for your wellbeing. Topper made no effort to comment on your unruly appearance, or the fact that your eyes continuously leaked with tears you desperately tried to hide, but part of you didn't care. He was the first person in a while to ask if you were doing okay.

“No,” you said, your voice breaking. Topper’s heart softened. “I, uh, I just walked in on JJ and Kiara kissing.” Topper’s eyes widened. He may not have enjoyed his time around the Pogues, but even he knew how infatuated the two of you were with each other. 

“What?” he asked, surprised. You laughed in self pity and shook your head, wiping your eyes once more.

“I never thought he’d cheat on me,” you replied. “He always talked about wanting to tell the truth and being loyal to his friends but he couldn’t extend that decency to me.” 

Topper knew this feeling all too well. While his relationship with Sarah might’ve sprouted because of their parents’ expectations, he grew to like the girl more and more as each day passed and he felt as if Sarah felt the same. It wasn’t until a year prior that he learned about her infidelity, with John B. no less, and he felt as if his world was coming to a complete stop. The girl he was infatuated with had no problem running into the arms of someone he didn’t get along with, and Topper was sure his distaste for Pogues increased because of that. 

“I know how you feel,” he said quietly. He averted your gaze when you looked at him in favor of looking at the ocean. “When Sarah cheated on me with John B., I just came to terms that I probably loved her.” 

“It sucks, doesn’t it?” you asked rhetorically. Topper let out a breath. 

“It does,” he said. “Deep down I know it’s wrong, but John B’s the reason I don’t like Pogues anymore.” 

“C’mon, Topper. Did you ever like Pogues?” you joked. Upon hearing your voice sound less accusatory and more playful, Topper allowed himself to laugh. “Do you know why it’s frustrating, to me at least, when Kooks mess with Pogues?” 

“No, I don’t,” Topper said genuinely. 

“It’s because people make fun of us for what we were born with,” you explained. “I didn’t ask to be born to a family that has to work to live. It’s hard to live comfortably knowing people who have a lot of money make fun of me because I don’t. It’s not anybody’s fault for what they were born into. It just hurts a little.” 

The boy, naive in his own right, felt oddly at peace with your confession. Internally, he knew he was privileged and saw the way Rafe would boast about his expenses and privileges, and he knew neither him nor Kelce would be as vocal about it as Rafe was. Still, his friends encouraged the unruly behaviour towards the Pogues and he never second guessed it. But hearing your confession, especially when you were trying to make your voice steady and catch your breath from previously crying, made him think about all the times he’d wanted to tell Rafe to leave the Pogues alone. 

“I’m sorry,” Topper apologized sincerely. “For whatever it’s worth.” 

You smiled, the corners of your mouth curving into a small smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Topper. He bit his cheek, trying not to show how proud he was of himself for brightening your mood, even if it was by a short stretch. The both of you let a comfortable silence settle in, the sound of laughter below you while the sky remained bright and sunny. 

“Hey,” Topper began, looking at you. You turn towards him and he sees that you aren’t crying anymore. “Do you want to, I don’t know, hang out sometime?”

“Topper, if this is your way of asking me out--”

“No!” he said abruptly, clearing his throat. “I just mean that, if you want a friend, I’m here for you.” 

“Really?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I mean it. No games, nothing.” 

“Thanks,” you said, moving your hair behind your ear. Topper pulled out his phone and asked you to put your phone number in his contacts, sending you a text message to make sure you had his number. You were aware of the risk you were taking, and how you might end up being the laughing stock of the Figure Eight residents, but at this moment, you didn’t care.

It’d been a little less than a week since you fled the Chateau and Topper had found you on the rock. And since then, you felt happier. No more friends pushing you out of their life or cheating boyfriends. While you would’ve never thought you’d be friends with Kooks, especially the likes of Rafe Cameron, you liked it. You had to say you almost liked them better. The boys were outrageous in the best way and after you got used to being with them, it felt so easy to slip into old habits of trusting people with your delicate feelings. 

When Topper had initially introduced you to Kelce and Topper, Kelce was less reluctant to “initiate” you into their friend group compared to Rafe. The boy, ignorant in his own right, wasn’t afraid of hiding his distaste for you because you were a Pogue. 

“Rafe, you never have anything important to say so I suggest you think before you speak or shut up altogether.” 

Rafe shut his mouth when you spoke as you eyed him down. Kelce and Topper were laughing behind you as Rafe’s cheeks turned red with a blush, embarrassed to have been caught being called out. Begrudgingly, Rafe welcomed you onto his boat and spent the next four hours getting to know you and decided that he was wrong about the kind of person you were. With a little time and convincing, Rafe had promised to never mess with the Pogues or make fun of them for being one, and you found yourself considering Rafe as one of your best friends just as he considered you the same.  

The sun was beating on your back, the water sliding down your skin cooling you off as you returned from a dip in Rafe’s pool. You hum, leaning back in your pool side chair, the cold glass of lemonade spiked with whatever alcohol Kelce got his hands on pressed against your cheek as you tried to battle the heat. 

“You good there, Princess?” Rafe called out from across the pool as he emerged from the sliding glass doors with a newly opened beer in his hand. 

“It’s too hot,” you complained. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Kelce said, laughing as he jumped into the pool. 

“Show off,” you muttered at his near perfect dive. 

“Okay, be honest,” Topper piped, looking at you while tipping his beer in your direction. “I’m pretty sure the Pogues think we all have a thing for you, so, if you had to fuck someone, who would it be?” 

“Is that even a question? Rafe, in a heartbeat.” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Rafe said, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to wink at you, 

“Please don’t fuck in front of me,” Topper said, sighing as he closed his eyes. 

“Why would you say that?” you said coyly, enjoying his reaction. “We’d never.” 

“She’s too smart for her own good,” Kelce said, joining the three of you by the pool chairs. 

“Not to be too cheesy, or anything,” you began. 

“Uh-oh,” said Rafe. “She’s about to get cheesy.”

“Shut up, idiot,” you muttered. “As I was saying.”

“As you were saying,” Kelce repeated. You gave him the finger. 

“As I was saying,” you repeated, “I know all of you know what happened between me and the Pogues and I’m really happy that I found you guys as friends. I never feel pressured to do anything when I’m with you guys and I appreciate that you let me have a life outside of this friendship.” 

“Pogues are bitches,” Rafe said. You gave him a look. “For what they did to you.”

“And you didn’t deserve to be cheated on,” Topper said. You pouted, putting your hands over your heart as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Guys, I'm going to cry,” you teased, pretending to wipe tears from underneath your eyes. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent by the pool before moving to Rafe’s living room to watch an endless amount of movies, forgetting that the world outside existed. 

The beach wasn’t as busy as usual despite the warm weather. You and the three boys decided to head to the water after they agreed to learn how to surf upon your insistence and neither of them could deny your kind smile when your lips pouted and your eyes widened. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kelce said, falling on his beach towel after trying his hand at surfing. You walked behind him, laughing as you watched his body lay limp on the towel. Rafe and Topper had given up not too long ago, opting to sit on the sand and dry, tanning in the sun while taking videos of Kelce trying to surf for the first time. Your skin felt cool from the ocean water and you motioned for Topper to hand you your water bottle. Rafe squinted as he watched you gulp from the spout, his sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. 

“How are you so fucking good at surfing?” he asked. 

“Been doing it since I could swim,” you said with a shrug, tossing the water bottle in your tote bag. 

“Damn,” Kelce muttered. 

“Is that JJ?” Topper asked nonchalantly, looking in the distance. You turned to where his gaze was and tensed your jaw when you saw JJ, accompanied by your former friends, kicking a soccer ball not too far from where you and the Kooks sat. 

“I don’t want to think about it or talk to them,” you said, groaning as you situated yourself on your beach towel. You brought your knees to your chest and put your sunglasses on, trying to make yourself seem smaller than you were. 

“It’s okay,” Rafe said. “We can fight them if you want us to.”

“No,” you interjected, knowing Rafe was kidding, but you knew he’d do it if you asked. “You don’t need to do that. We’re all adults here.”

“Except Rafe,” said Kelce. You chuckled, your mind temporarily distracted from the Pogues. 

You caught Kiara’s eye and turned around before she could say or do anything else, opting to keep yourself busy by straightening your beach towel. Topper and Kelce tried to distract themselves by talking to one another and Rafe, knowing how you felt about your former friends, glared at them from behind his sunglasses. 

“Are you serious?” you heard JJ say from a distance. You looked up and saw him scoff as he dropped his beach towel on the floor and walked to you, seeing you surrounded by three of his least favorite people. “You’re hanging out with Kooks now?” 

“What’s it to you?” Rafe asked nonchalantly with a hint of annoyance. JJ looked beside you, where Rafe was sitting, and scoffed. 

“You let him speak for you now?” 

“I don’t need to explain anything to you,” you replied calmly. 

“So you decided to go ‘full kook’ and abandon your friends and, what, are you and Rafe fucking?” 

You looked at him from where you sat and gave him an incredulous look, standing up from where you sat and faced him. You crossed your arms across your chest as you thought how ironic it was for him to be complaining about the company you kept when you caught him cheating on you not too long ago. 

“You don’t get to ask me that when you cheated on me with Kiara,” you said aloud, gesturing at the other three Pogues walked tentatively towards the both of you, careful to keep their distance as you spoke.

“And you chose to be friends with them?” JJ asked. 

“Listen,” you said. “All of you have been friends way longer than I’ve been friends with you and for the past few months, all of you have been acting like I’m not even there.” 

“We didn’t--”

“You did, JJ,” you said, snapping your fingers in front of his face to acquire his attention. “You pulled away from me with no explanation and got annoyed every time I would ask if you were okay. You never bothered to call or text me anymore and ignored me whenever we were together, JJ.” 

“So you’re ditching your friends for some Kooks?” John B. asked. 

“I haven’t felt like I was one of your friends and every time I wanted to talk about it, all of you shut me out. I know you’ve all been hanging out without me and I’m pretty sure you guys knew JJ and Kiara were messing with each other too.” 

“But we’re your friends,” Pope pleaded. He looked back and forth between you and the boys who were sitting next to you. 

“Well now she’s found other friends,” Kelce spoke. “Maybe she’s allowed to have other friends.” 

“Not with dipshits like you,” JJ spat. 

“I’m allowed to have other friends,” you said. “With you guys, I felt like I couldn’t be friends with anyone else because all we did was hang out with each other. I never felt like I could do anything if it wasn’t with any of you.”

“Y/N,” Kiara began, “we didn’t--”

“You don’t get to talk to me and beg for my friendship,” you directed at Kiara. “You don’t get to tell me what a good friend is when you were fucking around with JJ behind my back. You kissed my boyfriend. It’s always about ‘family’ with all of you until you feel like something’s threatening that. All of you are so dependent on each other that you can’t accept when somebody wants to have a life of their own. None of you have been my friend for the past few months and, quite frankly, I’m done being treated like a rag doll.”

“And the Kooks are better?” JJ asked. 

“They make me feel included,” you said. “I don’t feel like I have to choose. I can be my own person when I’m with them and none of them made me feel ashamed for wanting a life without them. So, yeah, the Kooks are better.” 

Even the four teenagers standing in front of you had to admit they enjoyed how the three boys stopped messing with them like the previous summer and they hadn’t pieced it together until they saw you sitting with them at the beach. 

“Neither of you,” you said, pointing between Kiara and JJ, “get to tell me how to feel. You made your beds, now lay in it.” 

Hastily, you picked up your beach towel and paid no mind to the four pairs of eyes watching you leave. Topper, who noticed you neglected to pick up your bag, grabbed it for you as he beckoned for the other two boys to do the same. Neither Topper, Rafe, nor Kelce spared the Pogues another glance and, for once, it wasn’t because of their status; it was because they made you feel less than you were.  

“You know we love you, right?” Topper asked, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“I’m glad someone does,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple. 

You left the beach without another word and sat in the passenger seat of Rafe’s car, not bothering to look at your former friends as you drove away. But you felt a newfound sense of peace as you sat in the passenger seat, watching as Rafe queued a playlist, Kelce giving you a gentle smile, and Topper patting your shoulder as a silence gesture of telling you he was proud of you. All would be okay.

***

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[unprofessional-bard]

Don't Push It, Pt. 1

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Part 2 (1/2)

Based on this request.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (the reader is 26 and Joel is 53), a lot of teasing/sexual tension, implied romantic feelings.

Summary: It's been going on for years. They both know better than to act on their feelings, but patience starts running thin when a few boundaries are crossed.

Word Count: 5.280

Author's Note: Okay y'all so I am a whore for Joel with long hair and I unintentionally made this into a fix-it au where Joel is alive. Also, the reader is going to have some OC characteristics to fit the scenario better. Finally, this fic changes POV's a lot, so I'm gonna clear that up:

• ----R and below: The reader's POV.

• ----J and below: Joel's POV.

• ----B and below: Both POV's.

The fic starts off with Joel's POV.

Enjoy!

gif credits: nikolai-stavrogin

"Hey, Joel," Dina called over to the man sipping coffee on his porch.

"Mornin' Dina," He replied as his daughter's girlfriend walked over to him. Her baby bump had grown a little more and it never failed to put a smile on Joel's face.

"There's a little trouble with the patrol today," She said. "Jesse won't be able to make it to patrol with (Y/N)."

Shit.

"And they're askin' me to fill in?" He sat up a little.

"Yup, Maria told me to ask you if-"

"No problem, sure, I'll do it." He spoke nonchalantly, then asked if Jesse was alright. Dina told him she wasn't sure, that it must be something important for him to miss patrol, which made Joel nod: "You told (Y/N) too, or...?"

"No, but she's gonna be there regardless. I doubt that she knows."

"Alright, thanks Dina," Joel got up and she smiled in return before walking over to Ellie's place.

It was wrong. By the lord it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. You were fierce, confident, determined and disciplined; qualities he came to appreciate in time, but a bit differently only when it came to you. He shouldn't want you, an unknown source in his mind kept telling himself, but he did. He didn't know why, he never found himself being attracted to a woman your age, yet you had him under your spell. Oh the things you did to him...

Worst part was, he couldn't have you, whether he liked it or not. Nevermind the fact that you were too young for him, you probably didn't want him anyways- despite the crystal clear signals he got from you. It was just how you were, though: A little physical and perhaps a little flirty, but he could just be confusing that with your confidence.

Or he could be overthinking everything.

Joel readied his backpack, but realised there was still a little more than an hour before the rendez-vous, so he decided to head over to your place to tell you about the news to kill some time. After he made it there and knocked on your door while calling your name a couple of times, which were left unanswered, your neighbour curiously looked over the fences and called over to Joel: "She left a while ago... For the gym, I think."

"Thank you," Joel smiled politely and earned a wave from the lady in return. He took his time as he walked over to the gym. After he arrived, he looked around for awhile to spot where you were, but when he found it, the sight almost made him choke.

There you were, ankles crossed as you pulled yourself up and chin over the barfix with closed eyes, a frown and a clenched jaw. Sweat laced the sides of your face and Joel's eyes wandered lower: You were wearing a sports bra and matching shorts which hugged your frame tightly and the sun was shining directly onto your muscles, which the lord himself carved out and were also sweaty, but Joel didn't care - it made you look more attractive, if anything. You let out a huff and lowered yourself down, while he tried to collect himself. He didn't want to disturb you so he decided to wait until you finished...

...but you didn't seem to be finishing any time soon. He didn't want to look like a creep as he stood there and waited, so after you did another pull up and let yourself down, he cleared his throat.

----R

"(Y/N), here you are."

Had you not been already hanging, you definitely would've fell when you heard Joel's voice reach your ears. You opened your eyes to see him slowly approach you, his stupid thumb stuck in behind his stupid belt.

You hated it: You hated finding this man attractive and you hated your guts for occasionally flirting with him - him, who probably would never look at you the way you looked at him. He liked you, of course, he enjoyed your company but not the way you wanted him to. You hated that you had a crush on this man, who became even more gorgeous as he let his hair grow over the last few years, you also hated how he neatly parted it to the left.

Patrol with him was both a treat and a curse at the same time. You got to spend time with him, which made it a treat, but when you watched him- saw him in action, how aggressive he was, heat started to pool between your thighs. He was so rough and precise as he was smart; he always knew what to do under any circumstance, so you almost never worried when you went out with him. He made you feel safe, praised you and played with your heart when he responded to your flirting and nothing came out of it.

You hated it because your little "crush" on him was pathetic, for someone as confident as you. Sure, you teased and flirted with him, but one praise as simple as you did well today and you'd be melting on spot. You even tried to get with other people to distract yourself, to no avail. They weren't Joel.

None of them could ever be Joel.

"Good morning!" You said with a high pitched voice, reflecting your struggle to keep yourself up.

"To you too," He chuckled at your state and watched as you pulled yourself up slowly. "Hey, listen. Jesse ain't gonna make it to patrol today so I'm fillin' in for him."

----B

The way you faltered a little didn't escape him: "Why? Is he okay?"

"I dunno, but I'm sure he is. Something important must've come up," Joel informed you, not wanting to worry you as you seemed to care about him. A lot. Ugh.

"Tsk," You breathed out and closed your eyes to focus on keeping your head above the metal bar.

Joel then spoke again: "Yeah, I was just here to let ya know."

"Okay, well-" You exhaled audibly and suddenly let yourself go. The force of the action sent you flying a little and it almost made you bump into him: "Woah, oh, sorry-"

"Woah there," You both chuckled at the same time. Joel held you by your elbows to help you balance yourself and your heart rate picked up pace when you realised how close your face was to his chest a moment ago - the chest you wanted to get your hands on: How muscular was he? How many scars did he have there? How would it feel to run your fingers through the hair as you ro-

"Uhm, yeah, as I was saying," You snapped yourself back to reality and took a small step back, disappointed by the way his fingers let go of your arms: "I'm done here, just need to do a couple of stretches, then head back and take shower."

"Right. Well, I'll see you at the gate, then?"

"Uh, sure, yeah."

You didn't know what else to say other than stay. You wanted him near you and around you, you wanted to show off to him and you wanted his attention, so you had to think quick.

Joel didn't want to leave either, even though you were going to spend the whole day together. He still nodded and turned around to leave. It was then, when a brilliant idea crossed your mind: "Actually, Joel?" He turned around, gave you a soft look that made you want to run up to him and kiss all over his face. "Could you help me with my stretches?"

If he'd been drinking or eating anything, he most definitely would've choked: "Help you?"

"Yeah," You flashed a smile at him. "It's simple, you just gotta press me down and keep me in place." The widening of his eyes, puzzled face and his tense posture made you shy. "Eh- Normally, Jesse helped me with them."

True. Some stretches required someone to push your body to its limits - when you worked out alone, you stuck to simpler stretches, but right now, you needed a reason to have him by your side.

Joel was torn between leaving, like a responsible person who knew when to walk away would. He was responsible, yes, but his moral compass was thrown out of the window whenever you joined the picture. So far, he wanted to think he was handling his emotions well- by not acting on them and not talking about them.

Now, however, it was as if he was facing the last straw. He had a few boundaries left to cross, and this was one of them.

"Plus, I'm a bit tired to do them. Will you help me?"

Lies. All lies.

You'd been doing these stretches for long enough, even though you'd worked hard, you weren't tired at all. Joel thought this to be the case, so he tried to go around it: "You sure? I mean, how're you tired?"

"I've been training like hell this morning," You settled on the mat. "I don't wanna do these stretches, but I have to. I'm not in the mood to pull a muscle today."

That was good enough for him really: "'Kay," He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

Your eyes glowed in excitement before you faced forward and explained: "Im gonna lean forward, like this-" You extended your legs forward and lowered yourself down. "All you gotta do is press on my back and stop me from moving away for a few seconds."

A few seconds which felt like five minutes, truth be told.

As soon as he touched your bare back, you sighed, then forced it into a hiss. He immediately retreated his hands, thinking he hurt you, pushing the ludicrous idea that you might have moaned away immediately.

His hands were big and a little cold comparing to your skin which was on fire after the workout, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't do that on purpose. You straightened up and looked at him with an innocent smile: "Your hands are cold."

Not cold enough to make you react like that, obviously.

Joel offered an awkward chuckle from the back of his throat: "You're gonna have to deal with it, missy."

And deal with it you did- barely. Christ, that was a bad idea, your worst one yet. To have his hands on your bare skin, pressing you down made your cheeks burn and mouth hang open as he kept you in place. You almost didn't hear him when he spoke, too busy trying to comprehend the size of his hands and how they'd feel around your throa-

"How many of these do you gotta do?"

"Uh, dunno," You blurted out. "Not too many."

Joel was partly glad, it felt so wrong yet it was just a simple act of help you could've asked from anyone. After 20 seconds of staying like that, you straightened. You went into a head-to-knee position and gave him an okay to press you down again.

You switched to the other leg after half a minute, but you were running out of ideas. There weren't any positions left that you could use his help with, so you played one last card to ruin him: "More."

"W-What?"

Good riddance.

"Press a little harder," You pretended to focus and tried your best not to smirk, knowing you had him where you wanted.

"Oh- hm," He cleared his throat and pressed a little more down on your back. If your plan hadn't backfired and made you almost moan through your teeth, everything was going accordingly.

Joel went to pull back, but stopped when you added: "It's been a while since I did these..."

Christ.

"That enough?" He slowly retreated his hands and stood up, watching you lean up where you sat.

"Yup, that'll be it," You smiled and blinked a couple of times. If Joel had known better, he would've thought you were making him do that, then being all cute on purpose-

It was going to be a long day.

----R

Patrol with the older Miller went as normally as it always was. Part one usually went like this: Meet up at the gate, get your rifles and horses, ride out, reach checkpoint one and sign your names. The road to checkpoint one didn't have any trouble, it usually never did. It was more quiet between you two than usual though. Had you gone too far?

"So, uh," You said once the two of you mounted your horses again. "You coming to the dance tonight?"

"What?" He snapped his head in your direction, looking clueless. "What dance?"

"Well, not a dance exactly but- you know what I mean?" You started riding. "The adults only event?"

He looked really distracted, a bit tense even: "Oh, right. You know those ain't my thing."

"I know," You nodded with a soft smile. "But I haven't seen you in any event ever since you decked Seth."

"Decked?" Joel chuckled bitterly at the memory.

"He deserved it, and more, that prick," You rolled your eyes, making him chortle.

"And nobody managed to shut up about it for the whole month," He sighed with a gorgeous yet tired smile on his face which you managed to see just in time. "So, no thanks. I'll pass."

"Aw, come on," You whined. "You can't avoid coming to these events forever. Please?"

He gave you a confused look, his smile slowly disappearing but not in a bad way: "Why?"

A good question. Oh, no reason, just wanna try and make a move on you, quite possibly jump your bones if it all goes well.

"I wanna make sure you haven't lost your ability to socialise." You offered.

"Really? Why, you're my momma now?"

"Ew, no," You both laughed. "Can't I be sure my friend is alive and well occasionally?"

----J

Friend.

A word that made Joel stop and think.

You saw him as a friend, huh? Two people, with clear sexual tension and an obvious age gap between them- Friends was an awkward description for him, but it was better than nothing.

He opened his mouth to reply, to insist that he was indeed alive and well, but you stopped him: "You know what I mean."

The conversation was making him a little distracted, he noticed, so he decided to keep his mouth shut until you reached checkpoint two. You didn't press him on, which was also a delight. That's another thing he liked about you: You knew your bounds- in patrol anyways. Or maybe it was because you got to know him well over the time, knew what he liked or not.

Part two went quieter too- infected and conversation wise. Not even a single runner was on sight as you swept through the small cabins and houses. Except for the occasional clear's and nothing here's, you didn't say anything else. Joel itched to talk to you, about anything to break the silence, but he was too lost in thought.

When you finally made it back to Jackson, you finally spoke up: "So? You coming?" He chuckled, mostly out of relief, then you added: "I found a new outfit, I wanna know what you think."

That caught Joel's attention. With a curious smile, after handing over your horses, he asked: "What outfit?"

"You'll see... If you come." You smirked, your close proximity making Joel's heart race.

"Don't get your hopes up," He sighed with a small grin and tucked his thumb behind his belt, the other one gripping the strap of his rifle.

"You're the worst," You punched his shoulder with mock upset, making him chortle and stumble a little to the right. "Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Joel remained quiet, then you walked away with a soft smile gracing your lips. The words sunk deeper than he would've liked, a sudden wave of guilt soaking his guts with regret, even though you didn't sound disappointed or upset. Lips pursed, he watched you hand your rifle to Peter and sign off, then leave; his steps coming to a halt as you did.

He just might check out what was up at the dance tonight, if he could successfully move himself out of his comfort zone in the following few hours.

----R

"Well well, look who it is," Tommy grinned when you approached the doors of the pub. The night had settled across the sky by the time you stepped outside your place. The sound of music and chatter of the people from inside filled your ears.

"Yours truly," You smirked. "It's crowded in there huh?"

"It sure is," Tommy said as he turned around to lead you inside. "Adults only events tend to attract more people, as y'can guess. Don't you look pretty today."

"Why thank you." You smiled playfully: "For no one, but myself, at that."

You lied through your teeth. You had dressed up in the silly hope that Joel would actually show up. You had been planning on it ever since you came across the item wrapped around your hips in an abandoned clothes shop a few weeks ago, and this event was the perfect excuse for you to wear it. For him.

"I ain't sayin' nothing!" Tommy raised his hands up in defense. "Figured that much, haven't seen anyone catch your interest in a long time."

Ha. Nice.

The atmosphere was lively and the air was warm, full of energy. Chatter and dancing went about the packs of people scattered across the space, but you couldn't see Joel, much to your disappointment - you weren't surprised though. What surprised you was Jesse suddenly showing up.

"Where's Ellie and Dina?" You asked after a while of teasing him about missing patrol.

"They decided to stay behind, I guess." He shrugged.

"What can I get y'all?" Tommy smiled, suddenly appearing behind the counter. Without waiting for an answer, he filled two glasses and pushed them towards you. You and Jesse looked at each other for a brief moment, before knocking it back at one go. "Woah there..."

A round of laughter later, you felt someone's presence behind you, then they tapped you on the shoulder: "Hey, (Y/N)!"

Much to your disappointment, once more, it was a boy named Mark. He was a year older than you, had no features whatsoever matching Joel's prettier ones and he took an obvious liking to you, which in truth you didn't appreciate, even though he wasn't weird about it or anything. You faked a smile and turned to him a little: "Hi."

"Good to see you," Sure. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Busy, actually," You pointed at the glass Tommy was refilling for you.

"Mind if I join?" He made himself comfortable on the stool next to you.

"Yeah. I do." Your smile never faded but your words were laced with poison.

He looked between you, Tommy and Jesse, mortified at your answer: "W- Heh, well, would you wanna dance later, then-?"

"No, I don't." You spoke calmly and turned to face Jesse again, only for him to move to tap you on the shoulder, which Tommy stopped from happening.

"Why don't you go home, huh?" He grabbed his wrist firmly, but not hard enough to leave a bruise of course. "The lack of oxygen in your brain's clearly stoppin' you from understandin' a word as simple as no."

You looked over at the younger Miller, a stern look on his face which seemed to make Mark piss himself. Suddenly, an even deeper voice was heard behind the boy: "I advise you to listen to him, son."

You turned completely in your seat to see Joel grabbing Mark by the shoulders, making him jump, then remove him from the seat carefully. Mark's legs were quick to oblige, making him walk towards the exit, but Joel held him in place: "A-ah, what do you say to the lady?"

"I'm s-sorry, (Y/N)," He nodded quickly. "I'll never disturb you again, I promise."

"Good boy," Joel patted him on the back, which sent him running to the door. Your cheeks were suddenly burning and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"Tsk, what a jackass," Tommy nodded disapprovingly as Joel took the now empty space next to you.

"You decided to show then, huh?" You smirked at Joel.

"Yeah, figured you'd break someone's wrists and make 'em eat it," He chuckled, tipping his head at his brother in a greeting -God he looked so handsome, was that a new shirt?- before he continued: "Decided it'd be a shame to miss it."

You giggled and lightly pushed at his arm, almost immediately feeling the muscles underneath the rolled up sleeve of his blue shirt: "I'll take that as a I came because you asked and I listened for once." The exchange, obviously, didn't go unnoticed by his brother and Jesse, which made you sit upright suddenly: "Tommy was the one who was gonna break his wrist anyways..."

"Nobody gets to disturb anyone here, especially right in front of me," He said and slid a glass to his brother.

Jesse joined in: "I doubt it, but should he ever-"

"Aw, you guys are spoiling me," You grinned and waved your hand down, pressing the other onto your chest.

----J

You looked beautiful. You were wearing a plain, dark green, mid-thigh, flare skirt; which could pass as a miniskirt, but Joel was no fashion expert. You always did come up with the rarest clothing items (like your sports set that morning), so he wasn't surprised that you happened across the skirt. You also had a simple, white, v-neck t-shirt on- which all in all was the reason you left Joel speechless: You could be wearing something as simple as these, but you'd still look so damn pretty.

A few minutes later, after Jesse and Tommy disappeared in different directions and you were finally left alone, Joel spoke up: "Is this the-"

"What made you-" You gave each other a brief look before chuckling: "You go first."

"Ah, I was gonna ask if this was the outfit you wanted me to see," He said, briefly looking down to point at your skirt.

He watched you run a hand through your hair and bite your bottom lip before answering: "Yeah..." You got up and stuffed your hands in your pockets, which made Joel's heart sizzle. "What do you think?"

He gave you a genuine smile: "I think you look beautiful."

The shock on your face made Joel panick a little, but when you offered a shy little smile, he relaxed: "You- Really?"

He gave you a single, slow nod in acknowledgement, his smile grew bigger when you beamed at him and offered him a quiet thank you, then sat back. You were staring hard at your glass, clearly avoiding his gaze and he found it rather cute, but didn't comment on it.

He was looking forward to chat with you, after all, you were the reason why he showed up, but you were unfortunately dragged away by a couple of friends, Jesse included...

To dance.

An upbeat song he didn't recognise started playing, putting you and another boy, Mick, to action. Everyone backed away to give you two space, then started off with what seemed to be something you'd been practicing for a while. You mirrored each other's moves, it was similar to some folk dance he'd watched way before the outbreak, but it most definitely wasn't a folk dance. Your arms linked occasionally, hands on your hips as you crossed each other's legs with fast movements and other types of moves Joel couldn't name if he tried, but it was organised and fun to watch. It wasn't intimate, too, just a silly little dance as you called it minutes later when you finished and walked to the bar for a drink. You didn't stay long, though, just downed your drink, winked at him and went back to the stage where you and Mick (but mostly you) stole the show.

It went on for two more rounds, to the point your t-shirts were absolutely soaked and your legs couldn't take it anymore. Joel had a particularly hard time in his seat, watching your skirt float around your thighs made him feel embarrassed with himself. Tommy even went as far as to tease him about his constant squirming, but a glare from his older brother was enough to shut him up.

The last dance finished off with you in Mick's arms, leaning back in his hold and closing your eyes with laughter. Everyone clapped you both, which earned you a kiss on the cheek from Mick- which you returned. Joel's jaw clenched unintentionally, even though you and him didn't appear to be more than friends.

Stop. Stop it, you idiot.

He couldn't care less about these types of things, drama about who's dating who and whatnot, but when it came to you he naturally grew curious.

He watched you, eyelids struggling to keep themselves open as Jesse led you and helped you onto the stool, next to Joel once more. You huffed and giggled, eyes closed with sweat droplets on your forehead. He couldn't help it when his smile grew wider at your tipsy state.

What he didn't see coming was the sudden hand on his thigh and your back against his arm, letting your head drop onto his shoulder as you let out a brief laugh: "Never let me dance and drink at the same time again."

Joel didn't know what to say, he quickly looked around for Jesse only to find him already gone and a couple of people staring at the both of you. With a rush of panic, he responded: "I don't think I'm the one you should say that to, darlin'."

Your hand and the rest of your body immediately retreated when you jumped at his voice: "Joel?!" You looked a little embarrassed and he couldn't help but smirk. "Uh, where's Jesse?"

The question almost made him scrunch up his face, but he patiently waited until the end of the conversation, which was after you've walked away to find the boy in question and he was alone with his own thoughts... Jealousies...

"He dropped you off and went over there, I think." Joel nodded to the direction he thought Jesse went off to - he didn't see though, he was too busy focusing on you when your fingertips had brushed somewhere dangerously near his crotch.

"Huh," You stared around to find him, but Joel figured you were too intoxicated to actually see that far. "You need to stop wearing the same clothes."

He raised a brow at that: "You tell him that."

"Oh I will," You grinned mischievously and suddenly grabbed Joel's glass of whiskey from his hand, then downed it at one go before he could intervene.

"Hey!" He tried to grab the glass from you but you leaned back. "I think you've had enough for the night."

"Says who-?" You pouted and at the very same time, lost your balance, realising that you leaned a little too back. However, Joel caught you; one hand on your arm, the other on your waist and he pulled you back - he didn't know if you did it purposefully, but you practically fell into his body: "Oh! I'm sorry-" You laughed, not looking sorry at all. "Thanks, Joel," You purred, extending the 's' and the 'l' at the end of each word as you grabbed onto his biceps. "You saved me."

"Pfft," Joel couldn't help but let his hand linger on your waist as he made sure you stood in place. Your eyes met when you lifted your head from his chest - the meaning behind his hazel gaze and your own was similar and it lasted for what felt like a whole minute, while in reality it was no longer than a few seconds.

You finally let his arms go and he took it as his cue to remove his hand from your waist (which, for a moment, felt like it had been glued there): "So... You enjoying yourself, old man?"

Joel sighed through his nose, amused at how the alcohol in your system was slowing your speech, then went back to how he had been sitting before you came. Just when you asked, the smooth, familiar tune of Ain't No Sunshine started playing. After all the excitement, a slower music felt nice: "Sure. You?"

"Oh I sure am," You nodded and leaned back against the counter with something of a triumphant smile.

"I can tell," Joel replied, then without turning his head, side eyed you. His stare later on moved down to your skirt. "Why'd you get all dressed up for, really?"

"Huh?" You blinked, not processing if he was asking what you thought he was.

"I, uh- just never took you for the skirt type."

"Is that so?" You asked, eyes widening. "Well, just trying on a new outfit..." You looked down and bit your lower lip, making Joel's heart skip a beat. He mentally kicked himself for not leaving right then and there and continuing to talk to you: "There's actually another reason."

"Hm?"

"There's this guy," You turned towards him, placed your arm paralleled across his on the counter and leaned forward a little, pretending to look around. His fingertips scratched against the wooden surface of the counter at the mention of this guy in question. "I don't know his name, but maybe you do?"

He just raised a brow when you looked at him innocently: "He's a bit old, around this tall," Your hand went back and forth in the air as you tried to size the man's height in your mind. "Has pretty, long, graying hair with an also graying beard... A little scar on his nose," You looked at him and leaned in a little more, invading his personal space but not touching him, then pointed at the exact spot on your nose and it was then, Joel realised, that you were indeed describing himself. "He's wearing this blue shirt and, honestly, it would look better on him if he opened another button or two."

I know, I know

Hey I oughta leave young thing alone

But ain't no sunshine when she's gone

He wanted to counter, tease you back, lean down and taste your lips, then place a kiss or two on your neck and bite it softly just to hear you moan quietly into his ear- he also needed to get his shit together, as much as he wanted to do all of that.

He couldn't quite believe his self control when he leaned away from you, especially since the tip of your noses almost touched and he felt your hot breath on his lips. He cleared his throat and quickly looked around to see if anyone was looking- no one had seen the rather intimate interaction so he spoke: "I don't know who that is."

The disappointment on your features was like a knife twisting up in his guts. You blinked a couple of times, but didn't lean back: "S- Sure you do..."

"I don't," Joel insisted, his voice stern. "Maybe you should look for someone else."

Your disappointment turned into embarrassment and anger, making you frown and lean back: "Excuse me."

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

And with that, you got up and stormed away, leaving Joel wanting, aching and ashamed.

Anytime she goes away

Anytime she goes away

Anytime she goes away

[sillyfeathers]

Not Such a Bad Thing (Izzie Stevens & co. x Reader)

Not Such a Bad Thing Characters: reader, Izzie Stevens, Miranda Bailey, Meredith Grey ft. George & Cristina Warnings: hospital setting Words: 2321

What started as an innocent prank war devolves into something worse when Meredith sees an opportunity to mess with you that she just can’t miss.

A/N: if you are looking for a well-written fic, you are looking in the wrong place /hj Inspired by one of many fic prompt posts :)

“A prank war.”

Bailey’s face was set, not an ounce of emotion visible. Of course, that didn’t mean you and Dr Stevens couldn’t tell she was absolutely fuming.

“Dr Bailey, it got out of hand, and this one was really my fault, Y/N shouldn’t be punished,” Izzie said quickly. Your shoulders tensed – you were grateful, but refused to meet anyone else’s eyes right now.

“Is that so, Dr Stevens? Because I seem to recall that it was Y/L/N here that knocked down a nurse and a cart of dirty surgical tools, possibly injuring themself in the process.”

“Well, yes, but –”

“They can speak for themself, thank you Stevens,” Bailey continued. “Now, Dr Y/L/N – please enlighten me as to how you ended up sprawled on my hospital floors.”

Finally, you met Izzie’s eyes, purely to shoot the incredibly remorseful surgeon a glare.

Setting your jaw, you began, “Dr Bailey, it started purely between me and my roommates, and we never intended it to go this far…”

“IZZIE!”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, being dragged into the laundry with George.

“How does she already know it was you?” George exclaimed, earning him an exasperated ‘shush’ from Izzie.

“I don’t know, but I fully intend to drag you both down with me,” she said, her small grin betraying how serious she was taking this.

“Izzie, I am coming after you for this!” Meredith yelled, and the three of you winced at the sound of her footsteps.

“I am not suffering Meredith’s wrath, you asshole,” you muttered. “You think we can get out of here before she finds us?”

“It’s not like she’s gonna kill us,” Izzie said, raising her eyebrows. “She’s Meredith. She’ll be mad, but like, in a joke way.”

You stared at her, apparently dumbfounded.

“What, Y/N?”

“Are we living with the same Meredith?”

“Found you!”

You all jumped as Meredith pulled the door open, pointing an accusatory finger. “I see the two of you were in on this little stunt too?”

“No!” You and George spoke in unison, while Izzie nodded her head dramatically behind you both. Meredith narrowed her eyes. To Izzie’s credit, she looked slightly less intimidating wrapped in a towel stained with blue dye. “Well, you’re all going to pay for this. You’re lucky I could get this out with my towel,” she snapped, turning on her heel. You and George both wheeled on Izzie, who was biting back a smile.

“Izzie, you have no idea what you’ve just started,” George said.

And so, life in the surgeons’ household descended into mild chaos. Meredith was, naturally, first to enact her revenge, spiking all of your coffee with salt. Surprisingly, George got his dig at Izzie next, and the shaving cream in the shoes was all he initially intended to do – however, your plan against the three of them was already in motion. The plastic wrap around the door frames was what really made it a war.

There was certainly a new air of suspicion around the house, but so far it had all been harmless fun, and you didn’t trust each other any less.

“Hey, you need any help?” you asked, slinging your bag onto the sofa. Meredith glanced over her shoulder from where she was in the kitchen, sighing in relief. “Yes, please – can you start cooking the pasta for me?”

This was a common routine – two or more of you cooking whatever you’d decided would serve as leftovers for the rest of the week. This time, it appeared to be spaghetti bolognese.

“Mer, we’re out of spaghetti,” you called, staring up into the cabinets.

“There’s some up the top, behind the cereal.”

You stood on your toes, straining to reach it.

“Okay, let me – move out of my way.” Coming up behind you, Meredith poked your side to signal she was there. To her surprise, you recoiled, biting back a grin.

“What was that?” Meredith asked, raising her eyebrows as she grabbed the pasta.

“Nothing,” you replied, twisting your face into something that could maybe be described as neutral. “Gimme the box, the water’s boiling.”

“Mhm.” Meredith narrowed her eyes, grinning as you snatched the pasta from her. “I’m sure.”

“Y/N, your scrubs are on backwards.”

You groaned, pulling the top back over your head. “I’m blaming this on George, he put a bunch of alarms on my phone so I hardly got any sleep,” you grumbled.

In Meredith’s defense, it was not her original plan to pull this particular prank at work. But you were grumpy, and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance like this, so, as she helped pull your scrubs back down over your shoulders, she carefully secured the piece of paper she’d been pocketing to your back.

“Leave me alone, mom,” you teased, pushing Meredith away. She only smirked as you left the locker rooms – she might just win the war with this one.

It was only 30 minutes into your shift, finishing up your rounds, when you felt a pair of hands latch onto your sides.

“Hehey!” you gasped, twisting. “What the– George?” You struggled to hold back your laughter, slapping at George’s hands until he retreated. Before you could even begin to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, he’d made his escape, slipping into a nearby patient’s room.

Most of your morning was fairly uneventful. You couldn’t help but notice you were getting a couple of odd looks from nurses, but you shrugged it off as natural nurse hatred for surgeons.

Around 10, Dr Burke announced a back surgery, and your and Dr Yang’s hands were the first in the air.

“Cristina, tie?” You turned, gesturing to the back of your neck. Cristina obliged, and you cringed at the feeling of her nails trailing against your neck. 

“Ohokay, I think it’s all good,” you mumbled, discreetly trying to angle your neck away. Cristina didn’t relent, her fingers slipping forward and curling underneath your jaw, eliciting a yelp. 

“Cristina!” You twisted away before she could do anymore harm, glaring in bewilderment. “What, you and George have something against me now?”

Yet again, you got no answer as Cristina shrugged before entering the OR.

The surgery went smoothly, and the day continued with a distinct confusion on your part. You kept catching Cristina and Meredith grinning in your direction, and George looked like he was going to laugh every time he saw you.

The confusion grew into worry, and by the time Izzie was coming back from a surgery with Addison, you were starting to freak out.

“Izzie, c'mere.” You didn’t give Izzie much of a choice, dragging her into a vacant room.

“Y/N? What’s up?” Izzie frowned.

You wrung your hands, trying to find the words. “Everyone’s been acting really weird around me today – it’s like they’re laughing at me or something, I don’t know.” You began to pace around the room.

“I didn’t do anything, did I? I thought it was about the pranks, with George, at first, but now Cristina–”

You broke off, shooting daggers at Izzie. She had pressed her hands over her mouth and was clearly smiling.

“Are you kidding me, Izzie?” you yelled, genuine anger in your voice.

“No, no, Y/N, I’m not– it’s just���. ” She gestured to your back.

Again confused, you fumbled with the back of your scrubs, coming into contact with a small piece of paper. You frowned, ripping it off to see what it was.

The paper was small, small enough that you couldn’t read it unless you were close. But once someone was close, they could read it clearly: ‘TICKLE ME’. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, flushing red. “I don’t– I don’t know– ”

“You’re ticklish,” Izzie teased, wiggling her fingers in the air. “I had no idea!”

“Izzie, don’t even think about it,” you warned, an unwilling smile already creeping onto your face.

“But you know I’m going to, right?” The teasing tone in her voice was completely unbearable for you. Before it could get any worse, you decided to make your escape, dashing for the door.

Yet Izzie, as tall and graceful as she was, caught you right by the door, pinning you against the wall. 

“Meredith,” you cursed, shaking your head madly. “Izzie, we have work to do, we can’t– ”

“Yes, we can,” Izzie replied casually, her hand dropping to your side. All it took was a twitch of her fingers and you crumbled.

“You’re so ticklish!” Izzie cooed, and you felt as though your face was surely on fire. Izzie shifted positions so her thumbs were braced against your bottom ribs, her nails still fluttering against your sides. You were practically hysterical with giggles, your head falling forward to rest against Izzie’s chest.

“Izzie, I cahan’t– ”

“Sure you can!” Izzie teased, giggling as her thumbs pressed into a spot at the base of your ribs that made you squeal, trying to curl in on yourself. She added a little more pressure, fingers spidering up your sides while her thumbs traced circles against your ribs, sending you into another wave of uncontrollable laughter. The higher she ventured, the more desperate your laughter got, and the more you squirmed.

“I’m nearing a bad spot, huh?” Izzie was taking absolute delight in the effect her words had on you, and her satisfied humming made you want the ground to swallow you whole.

“Is it…here?” She hooked her thumbs under one of your uppermost ribs, gently drilling into the spot, and you shrieked. Izzie was painfully good at this, and she seemed to know it.

“No way of knowing…here?” She changed techniques, rapidly tickling along the point where your sides met your back. You let out another yell of laughter as you spasmed, nerves alight with ticklish energy. Your knees were literally trembling with the effort it was taking to keep on your feet.

“Surely not…here!” Izzie wriggled her fingers up underneath your arms, and you fell forwards into her, muffling your laughter against her chest.

“You’re gonna have to lift your arms up if you want me to stop,” she said casually, and you quite literally screamed, a combination of frustration and embarrassment. Try as you might, every time you went to lift your arms, Izzie would go full tickle monster, using her nails to scribble at the hollows. After a few attempts, you were completely weakened, giggling in Izzie’s arms as she managed to score a few stray tickles to your ribs and back.

“You poor thing,” Izzie laughed, slowing her fingers as she slid back down your sides. Despite the literal shivers it sent through your body, the break from the hysteria gave you a moment of clarity that was enough to fumble at the door handle and burst into the corridor – right into a nurse, and the cart of dirty surgery equipment she was pushing.

“A prank war.”

To your relief, Izzie took on the responsibility of filling in the details. Of course, that only made it worse when Bailey’s eyes finally shifted to you, and you were forced to look your resident in the eye while blushing a deep, deep shade of red.

“So you made all that commotion over tickling?”

You breathed in sharply, trying desperately to stop your face from conveying any more emotion than it was already. “If we’re looking into the technicalities of it…yes.”

Bailey’s face didn’t shift, and for a horrible moment, both you and Izzie thought you were genuinely in trouble. But then she relaxed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re lucky that nurse didn’t get hurt, although I’d expect you won’t be too popular with her for a while,” she said, eyeing you. “And I expect you, Dr Stevens, to know better than to torture poor Dr Y/L/N like that.”

“Won’t happen again,” Izzie replied, unable to hold back a grin at the mortified look on your face. “Are we free to go?”

“You, yes. I want to make sure Dr Y/L/N hasn’t hurt themself,” Bailey replied, patting the bed beside her. “Exam time.”

You refused to look at Izzie as she left, lying down on the bed and praying for this to be over fast.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Bailey asked, hands hovering above you as her eyes scanned you.

“No, Dr Bailey – I really don’t think this is necessary, it was hardly a fall– ”

“You don’t get to tell me what’s necessary,” she replied coolly, her hands pressing into your abdomen. You flinched, noticing that Bailey was being awfully light on the pressure she was applying.

Bailey shifted her hands to the base of your ribs, again pressing into the space. This time, you felt a definite curl of fingers against the skin, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” It was hardly a question – Bailey’s tone was dry, and she knew exactly what she was doing. This time, she prodded the sides of your ribs, fingers positioned perfectly to dig into the gaps, and you jerked upwards, giggles coming out in short bursts.

“I think– that’s enough,” you managed, the words punctuated with breaths of laughter. You avoided Bailey’s smirk as you jumped off of the bed, smoothing out your clothes.

“Am I free to go?” you asked, finally meeting Bailey’s eyes. She was still smirking at you, but there was the tiniest bit of compassion in her expression.

“Laughter can be a real scarcity amongst you interns,” she said. “It might not be such a bad thing.”

You pressed your lips together, determined to maintain a straight face, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes softened. “I’ll be seeing you then, Dr Bailey.”

Softness aside, you now had one thing on your mind – Meredith was absolutely going to pay.

[the-slasher-files]

Hello there! I’m back with another request. Can you write some headcanons of Michael, Jason, Bo and Bubba if their S/O was an artist? I’m an artist and I would love to see their reaction if I showed them one of my latest drawings.

Yay.. ok so I’ve got a few requests for this (from a shy s/o to a confident one) so I kind of mixed them together :) also btw I don’t write for Bubba but I will write for all the others, plus more! hope you enjoy 🔪💕  

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS WITH S/O THAT LOVES TO DRAW OR IS AN ARTIST

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, and CHROMESKULL

JASON VOORHEES

First of all living where you do at the cabin there is so much inspo from deer, to the lake, to changing of the seasons.. It is honestly the best place for an artist

Jason always noticed a black notebook lying around with pens and pencils on every other surface, and you were oddly protective of the book, so he left it alone respecting your boundaries

Sitting with him in the quiet cabin Jason loved the sounds of the pencils scratching along the paper, and he loved to watch the soothing motions of your wrist going to work

Slowly he will become more and more interested in what you're doing and he needs to see. Sneakily inching himself closer to you as you work away and stretching his neck as far as he can, catching a glimpse then feeling guilty

Jason wants to respect you so much but it kills him that you’re not showing him. So when you were in the shower he quickly ran to the book and gently ran his fingers over your work, amazed at how good everything was and how you brought the nature/animals to life in the book from around the camp

Flipping a page then he is met with sketches of himself, with the mask and without, his hands, some of his wounds with the bones sticking out... it was beautiful and he couldn’t look away until you walked into the room pushing him away from the book but seeing his expression made you melt, he loved it so much and slowly brought out confidence in you, making you show him your work all the time

A few times he had brought some art supplies home from a group of teens that came along

One day he came home to canvases all over the floor and red paint splattered all over your old t-shirt Jason freaked out thinking it was blood in the dim lighting, he stepped on your canvases with muddy boots and held you up making you yelp... “Baby it’s just paint”... well now he feels foolish and upset for stepping on your art

The next night he still felt bad but you showed him what you had created from “the incident”... Bright colours framed the bootprint and brought out the muddy tones, some of the canvases had pressed flowers along the details of the print and it was so beautiful Jason immediately hung them on the wall  

Just an fyi he wants to always do crafts with you lol so make sure you help him

MICHAEL MYERS

Now this guy is pretty indifferent to everything but something about your art brings out a new side in him

You can say a lot of things about Michael but you cannot say he isn’t observant, he sees everything and knows everything

Like Jason he notices your many notebooks and various art supplies around the house, but he is far more intrusive than Jason and will rip the notebook from your hands holding your neck if you protest as he flips through it

Watching his face nothing changes, he just scans the pages then throws the notebook down walking away leaving into the night

The next morning notebook, paints, pens, brushes and other supplies litter the kitchen counter... wonder who got those???

Michael loves watching you work on your art, watching your facial expressions, the way the pens run along the paper and how the paint coats the canvases.. oop you just gave him an idea

One night he came home gruesomely cover in blood a little more than extra, and Michael moves above you and the art you are working on, whoops he is dripping blood on the canvas, then smearing it, then moving his knife along it using it as a brush, I guess

You yelled at him at first but watching how he seemed to enjoy the colours mixing together and the way the blood dried was sort of.. cute

You knew Michael had a funny and creative side just by the way he walked into the bedroom one night with a sheet over himself and sunglasses on, and the way he leaves marks on your body in a certain pattern or framing his favourite features of you. Michael’s art was his kill you realized

He really loves your pieces, even though he would never say so and Michael’s favourites were the sketches of himself you did and he would paint blood along them

You weren’t gonna lie it made the portraits more interesting and honestly beautiful, they quickly became your favourites as well

I’m sorry but my horny self just wants to see Michael in an all-black suit at an art gallery admiring the masked portrait of himself covered in blood... sorry but it’s hot lol

BO SINCLAIR      

So Bo is not really observant so it might take him a while to notice the art supplies around the house but even then he thinks it’s just Vincent’s

You will probably have to do just do the art in front of him before he gets that its your art supplies.. man sucks lol

Bo really enjoys your company when he is in the shop, you just sitting there working away in your notebook and him under the hood of his truck

He doesn’t necessarily push to see what you’re drawing but Bo teases, the harder you hide it the harder he teases... “what ya got in there sex drawings?” “Fuck darlin’ let me be your model”

If you don’t want him to see what you’re doing never leave your notebook behind because the man is a snoop in every sense of the word

Bo 100% supports your art even though he isn’t very interested in it and doesn’t really get it, if it makes you happy he will steal supplies from his twin and if victims have notebooks or pens he will bring them to you immediately  

On a day where you decided to spend the day at the shop, sitting on your chair sketching away while Bo was organizing his tools, he kept catching your glances and smirked “Baby, you need somethin?” he would ask smugly.

“Nope” a simple answer not stroking his ego “gonna grab a beer from downstairs you want one?” Bo nods as you make your way to the mini-fridge. Quickly the man strides over to the notebook, opening the page where you had placed your pencil. He knew it, sketches of himself, it makes his ego skyrocket.

“BO!!” pushing him away and he grabs the book holding it just out of your reach smirking “Momma always said I’d be a good model” “Don’t flatter yourself Sinclair, you’re the only man around for miles that doesn’t wear a mask or look like a trash man” you laughed as him smirk fell... run

He honestly loves your art even though Bo gives you a hard time... His favourite thing is falling asleep to the pencil sounds against the paper when you’re laying in bed together

VINCENT SINCLAIR

SAAAAAAME... lol

The man notices right away that he begins to lose his an unused notebook and some of his best art pencils

It made you very nervous to show Vincent what you sketched and painted since he was just so good at art in every way. It was unfair

His favorite thing to do with you is make little sculptures from wax or clay, he could tell you were very creative and good at what you made, and he would always be super supportive

Vincent’s praise and support made you more comfortable with doing your art around him and even showing him. The man loves it and loves all of it

Different from his brother, Vinny respects you a lot and is fine with not looking in your notebook until you’re ready to show him. He hates when people see his unfinished work and flip through his notebooks as well

The good thing about dating him is Vincent’s art stuff is now yours

Also he is a very good teacher, somehow though he cannot talk, Vinny never makes you feel bad about your art and if you need help he is more than happy to support

Art date nights!! Getting the idea from your phone, you lit all the candles and brought down all the paint you could along with the large unused canvases you had found. When Vincent strolls downstairs his eyes go wide, seeing you in just your bra and underwear “I’m ready for art class Vin” you giggle

When he finds your paintings or sketches of himself without his mask Vincent’s heart melts, finding someone like you to love him, let alone see his destroyed features as art kills him

CHROMESKULL

Jesse is a very watchful human, even when he isn’t at home the guy has cameras literally everywhere

When he was gone on a "business trip" you had all the free time in the world, plus you had picked up some new art supplies, so why not work a large piece when Jesse isn't around to distract you... When you had worked on for a few hours you got a text 'How's the painting coming along?' And that's when you realized cameras are everywhere!

If you are a shy person with your art he basically doesn’t allow you to be, he’s a pushy spoiled man but he is also very supportive and it makes you more confident in showing him  

Jesse honestly loves art and has many expensive paintings in his large home, so when he sees your art you better believe he will have Preston frame the art and put it on the walls, with special art gallery lights really making it look perfect

If you need any and I mean any art supplies no matter how expensive Jesse supports it *hands you his gold credit card*

"Oh.. renovations? To the already perfect mansion?" "Yup.. it's your new art studio"

Art, wine and cheese nights... the perfect date

Feeling uninspired? alright time to change the scenery, let’s go to a tropical destination or a wintery cabin. The man wants to spoil you and put your passion at the top of his priority list, plus he just wants a vacation and see you in your swimwear

It doesn't matter if you're shy about your art or confident Jesse will say he is taking you to an event, get you all dolled up and take you to an art gallery event that is just your art... surprise! Dumb rich bastard loves your work and flaunts it to everyone he can

[worstloki]

Top Forty Thor-Being-Thor Moments from Thor 1

just absolute dumb*ssery that this 7yr old kid’s life goal is to “hunt down the monsters and slay them all”. I’ll go easy on him here and let the Thor/Loki expressions do the talking because of “...just like you did Father” but seriously can his hands even fit around a sword handle??? this kid isn’t even punching the air right??? if there was a sword in his hand he would’ve cut his head with the way he’s moving???? pure tiny-himbo energy here just look at that >:o face he’s making. contrasts very nicely with Loki’s ‘,:|. 10/10. such a baby idiot.

“the jotuns must pay for what they have done! they broke into the weapons vault! if the frost giants had stolen even one of these relics!” thor. thor please. can you even name one of these relics. thor. hey thor. thor. shut up. “well, what would you do about this?” odin asks him. “march into jotunheim! like you once did! break their spirits! so they’ll never try anything like this again!” wow okay so we’ve fast-forwarded by like a thousand years and thor is still going on about genocide. huh. that’s funny, i thought loki was the genocidal one. hmm. i also just realized that the loki exclusive clip gives loki the same hairstyle thor has here so do what you will with that information.

0/10. horrible. terrible. i dont care how angy thor is about not getting to kill some jotuns or become king today this very instant, that is a tremendous waste of food. an absolute fool. how can he just remorselessly throw the bread to the floor. if loki stabbed him when he was 7 he would deserve it for this table flip alone. what a privileged white *ssh*le.

loki came skulking around a corner and suggested not to go to jotunheim and not only did thor not suspect anything but he also then went on to decide to go to jotunheim. 10/10 himbo material. 

if tumblr didn’t have a picture limit i would put every instance of thor smiling in this list because look at that stupid smile. he’s such an idiot. 11/10. this is the thor content i’m here for.

“I have no plans to die today” thor says with the stupidest open-mouthed smirking smile ever captured on film. right after he also told heimdall not to tell anyone they’re gone. he’s literally planned to strand them on jotunheim. thor’s grand plan was to strange themselves on jotunheim and also start a fight. i repeat: thor’s plan was to successfully slay all the frost giants and not need to return until they’re all gone. what an absolute d*mb*ss. this is getting ridiculous. this was originally a top-ten-thor moments list but i’m not even twenty minutes in so i’ll have to extend the list. thor. thor are you listening? thor, you’re such an idiot.

“HOW DID YOUR PEOPLE GET INTO ASGARD?!” thor you sweet sweet summer idiot, please, i am beggin,g you,, learn to rea,d , a room,, literally everyone else who came with you is regretting it, there is complete silence and only the rumble of the opposing king is meeting your “I AM THOR, SON OF ODIN”s, please, please take some notes from Loki, or, you know, literally anyone else in the room, since everyone is asking you to get out of this realm while you still can,

thor’s stupid smile makes an appearance after he gets called a princess and decides to fight a whole realm over it. you know what? thor is a princess. he’s the prettiest princess in all the lands. what’s thor gonna do about it? is he going to fight me too? I hope he does the stupid grin first. minus 15 points for the sexism. thor is a complete and utter sadistic fool who needs to get a hobby. seriously, he’s 1500 years old and still going on and on about slaying all the frost giants. boi, i hate to break it to you, but your dad is not the best or only example of greatness out there. i don’t think your dad even qualifies as an example of that. 

“THEN. GO!” 🥰 ahh yes, just thor thingz 🥰🥰 like when one friend has had his arm burnt 🥰 and another friend has been impaled and needs medical attention, 🥰🥰 and all the rest of your friends are yelling for you, 🥰 and your brother is telling you they must go, 🥰 and you decide to buy everyone time by laughing maniacally and killing more frosties because you care for them and dont find joy in destruction like a loon 🥰🥰🥰 

THIS is the iconic Thor moment that makes my day whenever I think about it. Just Thor, an absolute bumbering 6′6′’ giant boodlusting dummy sees Odin and just decides to yell “FATHAA!! WE’LL FINISH THEM TOGETHAAA!” as if the last thing Odin told him wasn’t “no, thor, we’re not going to do anything to the frost giants, do not go after them and try to kill them all.” 11/10 d*mb*assery right here folks, I couldn’t ask for Thor to be more of a fool. This is PEAK Thor energy. Look at that face. I feel like Thor spends half this movie with his nostrils flared. I love it.

okay i gotta give thor credit for rightfully calling odin “an old man and a fool” but also there was not even 1 frame of the scene where Thor had a decent face so now all i see is >:O >:| >:o >:[ when i watch that scene. yelling at odin was great, not yelling at odin after he HUAERGHed at loki was less great, but to be fair it’s thor and he is the definition of Peak D*mb*ss. 

thor literally GROWLS and starts yelling “HAMMAA?? HAMMER??” over and over. He was hit by a van, he fainted, he woke up and started growling. I don’t know what else there is to say about this.

“you dare threaten me? puny human?”. so. uhh. basically. Thor knew she was threatening him? He KNEW she had a weapon? instead he made a face and started yelling as he tried to walk his way closer????? thor you complete and utter dum dum. you frickin hairball-for-brains. im not even surprised darcy tasered him. with that kind of face, i’d taser him too.

when you wake up in an unknown place to a person smiling at you without a stupid smile, the first step is always to attack first and ask questions later 😌😌😌 (but seriously thor you imbecile why didn’t you ask where you were instead of throwing multiple people around the room and getting your butt needled. you clueless buffoon. you’ll remain a clueless buffoon if you don’t listen to anyone.)

just a quick recap but thor was knocked unconscious by a van and these people kidnapped him aboard and the next scene we see him in he’s checking himself out in  mirror after presumably changing right there in the open?????? these are the things that make thor thor. any other character and i’d question it so much, but this is thor, and i truly believe this is in-character for him. just change in the open because why not? thor is a beefcake and that’s his only redeeming quality and he knows it. 10/10 thor moment. 

I am now convinced that Thor saw Jane and “5k van-hitter to lover slow-burn height-difference himbo-scientist trope” flashed through his mind.

“but no more smashing!” Jane says, and then Thor proceeds to check her out and smile unlike an idiot and like a douche. was this his version of flirting???? i’m not one to decide, but yes, yes it was. He threw a cup to the ground and broke it, and she’s getting mad at him and berating him about it, and he’s liking it. y’all i’m sorry to break it to you like this, but thor has a canon fetish. i am so, so sorry.

im DYING. THAT ISN’T EVEN A KISS, HIS MOUTH IS OPEN. he SMUSHES his mouth around her knuckle???? WHY. I can’t keep noticing things like this. send help. please. Jane’s response makes so much more sense now; she’s laughs for a solid 3 seconds and shakes her head and is like “uhh, thank you? ahaha,” and then she keeps looking back longingly when walking away. they are doing this in PLAIN sight of EVERYONE. Darcy and Erik are standing RIGHT THERE, and Thor is doing weird things to her with his mouth. I’m out. I am done here. goodbye. 

return of the stupid smile AND the douche smile in quick succession through the entire trip. their entire dialogue is peppered with innuendo. “I’ve never done anything like this before. have you ever done anything like this before?” “many times, but you are brave to do it.” “I have nothing else to lose.” “ah but you are clever, far more clever than anyone else on this realm.” “realm? rEaLm?” “you think me strange?” “yes” “good strange or bad strange?” “I haven’t decided yet.” I AM DYING OVER THIS. plus, we get Return Of The Himbo with Jane asking after Einstein Rosen bridges and Thor is like “uh, actually, more like a rainbow bridge 😜🤪” i feel so sorry for jane here, didn’t know how much of a d*mb*ss Thor was when signing up for this van-trip and knuckle-sucking 😭😭😭 i also no longer have questions about how the trip that SHOULD HAVE BEEN A HALF-HOUR ONE turned into one that LASTED TILL THE SUN WENT FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE SKY TO SETTING by the time they arrived. I have no questions. please. I don’t want to know what they were doing in that van. please no. don’t make me think about it.

thor’s plan had 3 steps and they were 1. give jane his jacket 2. walk in and get his hammer 3. fly out. that was literally his plan. he had the first “I have a plan. attack.” moment in the MCU. pure concentrated 0-brain-cells energy right here. how can you not stan this king of d*mb*ssery. look at him, flaunting his big boy muscles. he’s about get his hammer and fly out, like he just told jane with a trademark stupid-smile.

crop-top hair-mop thor is my favourite thor. the way the entire fight scene parallels a hamster in a maze only exemplifies the thor vibes for some inexplicable reason.

“you’re big. fought bigger.” + Thor douche-smile + subtext from earlier + rolling around passionately in the mud = not a happy me. 

I swear i’m not making up this romantic subtext but it’s barely even subtext. the entire scene leading up to Thor’s attempt at lifting the hammer is actually filmed erotically. I’m not kidding. First there’s a shot where Thor pulls aside a hamster-cage-wall blind which mirrors a shower-curtain, and THEN he walks around the hammer while smiling douche-ly at it, we get a few close-ups to his face which are shot from angles slightly lower than himself, giving him an aire of superiority, plus the music adds to this, he reaches out for the hammer’s handle with a mud-covered arm in the rain, in non-slow-motion slow-motion, and he wraps his arm around it, like, he fully twists his arm, unecessarily sexually, around it as he grabs the hammer. This is not okay. On the plus side, it makes the movie much more entertaining,, on the down side,,.

im not going to call Thor dumb for not knowing he’s not worthy. im not going to. because odin literally whispered the enchantment to mjolnir after he’d thrown thor to midgard. it is very funny watching thor grunt in frustration though. he starts yelling because he couldn’t lift the hammer and just lets himself get caught. like, dude, get a life, go buy a new weapon from the store, seriously. he mourns for the hammer on-screen longer than he does for loki. he also looks like he’s in far more pain here. he becomes catatonic and unresponsive after this, but when loki dies he’s already feasting the same afternoon. 10/10 dum dum thor material. never change thor, never change. (that’s code for please change, thor, please,)

thor trying to establish dominance wherever he goes is the funniest thing because at this point he’s being a complete asgardian *ss about it and it’s reaching points of pettiness never seen before. side note: he is possibly flirting with selvig too. maybe. i’m not saying anything happened, but Thor’s openning lines when bringing him home carried over his shoulder are “he’s fine, not injured at all,” followed with an apology to selvig, and an explanation to jane which consisted only of “we drank, we fought, he made his ancestors proud,” and then he puts the man to bed and before he falls asleep erik says “i still don’t believe you’re the g*d of th*nder, but you ought to be,” so... your choice, i guess...

thor’s got his trademark stupid smile and stupidly takes jane’s life’s work notebook and starts doodling in it about trees. the last time his father told him this story about Yggdrasil was when he was 5 and he clearly hasn’t payed attention to any lesson about anything since and it shows so so much. thank you thor. very insightful knowledge you’re passing on hear. ‘i come from a world where [science and magic] are one and the same,’ ok great, now elaborate on that please. oh, right, you can’t because you’re thor, my bad, 20/10 thor behaviour. he couldn’t even doodle nicely. all his lines are wobbly. epic art fail. i wouldn’t trust him near my sketchbook with a 2B pencil.

THIS is thor’s realization face. in case anyone was interested in what ‘dawning truth’ looked like on him. 😰😪 THIS is the face of a thinker, of a man betrayed by his own beloved brother for unprecedented reasons. look at the nuance in his expression. 😩😩😩 so many emotions, I can’t even count them all 😩💯😪

stupid smile and “do not worry my friends, i have a plan,” he says, “i’ll just try and abuse the fact that Loki’s super selfless and kind and has no self worth to my benefit as i have countless times before which is exactly what he’s rightfully angry about this time,” he doesn’t think to himself because that is NOT the smile of someone who is thinking... like, at all. +10000 points to gryffinthor. the d*mb*ssery really jumps out.

“im sorry bro for whatever i did and whatever you’re blaming me for as an excuse to do this, im sorry bro, but you’re disturbing innocents that i don’t really care about but you’re the one making a scene in front of them so why don’t you admit you won’t kill me and are just having a temper tantrum and we move on? hmm?” and then he proceeds to get slam dunked in the face with a metal arm like yEAAAA BOI that’s what you GET for going up against the SENTIENT LAVA-SPEWING metal-man ya absolute dunderhead clod. thunderhead clod? yeah, that. he’s just so dumb, your honour, please, you must understand, the victim pleads guilty on all charges of d*mb*ss and d*mb*ss alone.

I can NOT describe the emotions I feel knowing that Thor is suck-kissing Jane’s knuckles. Like, his mouth is literally jelly-ing it up against her hand. There is suction there and it shows when he is placing and removing his mouth. I promise that’s what is happening. I’m not any happier than you about this. I regret everything. This is why Loki should be what is focused on and not Thor; Thor’s going around trying to frick frack everything in sight even if it’s just Jane’s hand. He’s maintaining eye contact with Jane while he licks her fingers. Why did I decide to rewatch this movie. 

i’m only adding this in as a thor moment because of how desperately and badly they kiss. seriously. 2/10 kiss. im not surprised jane broke up with him. they look like two actual seals fighting over an actual grape. while i’m here i’m going to criticize every fic ever that decided thor is an experienced gentle lover. what were y’all on when watching this movie. thor can and will f*ck literally everything in sight and he won’t even do it well because he is the peakest of peak d*m d*m. look at this man. look at his face. that is the face of an absolute himbo idiot, and it’s the face of an absolute himbo idiot who knows it. he’s been stranded on earth for 2 days, max, and his flirt-count is at 69 people because his name is one letter away from thot. i bet his terrible use of a pen from early means he writes his ‘r’s like ‘t’s and he doesn’t even care. 1000/10 thor moment. doesn’t get much more romance-thor than two individuals smooshing their faces together after some finger sucking. that finger sucking is gonna leave jane simping for years. and that’s true love babey. <3

“I’ll handle my Brother!” Thor says, as if Loki didn’t send a metal-murder-bot that quite virtually killed him less than ten minutes ago asdfhkhsdgsdjf Thor, you horrific himbo you, Loki’s weapon of choice is literally throwing knives he will literally kill you before you enter the room if he’s on his game and wants you dead which he just proved he would do and you’re just gonna???????????? jog on over to him????? Thor??????????? bruH???????????? buddy??????? pal???????? you really wanna go 1v1 the brother you very clearly underestimate and know nothing about????????????????? im loving the confidence, but, no.

Loki: “you literally can’t stop this from here.” Thor, immediately: “i’m going to hit it with the hammer and see if that works” and then it does in fact work later... technically speaking, even if it ends up causing chaos destruction and death and loki falling off the bifrost 😔😔😔 but Big Brain Thor is the Biggest Brained Thor!!! The plan worked!! in a messy-Thor-ish way, but it did!!!

“you can’t kill an entire race!!!!” Thor yells, teeth gritted, as he faces his brother, his coward pacifist brother, who has suddenly decided he wants to join the age-old family tradition of realm-destroying, when this is supposed to be Thor’s dream, Thor’s, not Loki’s. How dare he, Thor thinks to himself, fist clenched around Mjolnir in anger, the pain of the handle pressing against his palm perhaps the only thing preventing him from lashing out at this thought, that’s my planet of monsters to slay, he should go get his own! Loki hits Thor across the face with the back-end of his spear. “Now fight me,” Loki says, but Thor, well, Thor cannot fight, as he remains stunned that of all things Loki would dare steal his life’s ambition, and he is sent sprawling backwards across the observatory, slowly but surely sliding to a stop despite his catatonic, very symbolic silence.

the elegance, the poise, i see your time on earth has made you no less graceful, Thor. the simple magnitude of this sprawl. the spread of the arms. the turn of the feet. this is not a dude, this is a man.

sometimes your brother starts vehemently talking about he’s gonna kill the race of monsters and about how he’s only ever wanted to be your equal and about how he’s not your brother and never was and sometimes you just have to say “this is madness” instead of addressing the issues or asking for any of the  deets 🔥 👊💯😩

Loki is whipping Thor’s butt. Both literally, and metaphorically, Loki is whooping Thor’s d*mb*ss. Earlier he knicked Thor’s face, now he’s just pushing Thor around, he uses the spear as a pole and later kicks Thor’s face by kicking vertically up, and Thor, bless him in all his blond golden muscled glory, doesn’t think anything is up with this, gosh he’s such an absolute utter idiot

sometimes your brother laughs way too much and also cries too much in a fight and there are also too many of him so you just need to blast lightning so you get a shot at all of them 😌😌😌 and then put your magical infinitely-heavy hammer on his chest 😌😌😌 but it’s okay because Thor left holes in Loki’s container 😌😌😌

now THIS is the meat to Thor’s funny bone, just the pure unadulterated humour that is Thor saying that there will never be a “wiser king” or a “better father” than Odin, it cracks me up every single time without fail, just the way he says it with a straight face and— what do you mean he wasn’t joking

look at Thor’s stupid smile as he asks Heimdall to spy on jane every single day while conveniently never asking after Loki ever. This is Thor’s face in mourning after he attended a feast after everyone was celebrating after Loki’s death. Look at his stupid smile. I love him your honour. He’s just,, he’s just so frickin stewpeed, just Thor being Thor, just the purest of d*mbest of *sses.