#he looks too well kept but i did the best i could

[vettelsvee]

NEW YEAR'S DAY | Oscar Piastri

⋆ PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: A clumsy and unexpected proposal on New Year's Day is what you wouldn't have thought about after dating Oscar for almost five years ↳ Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1722 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: I loved writing this one! Hope you like it as much as me ☺️ Feel free to tell me in the comments <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Oscar was nervous, really nervous… maybe even more than the day he won his first Formula 1 race and had no idea how to act.

“Which one do you prefer: blue pants or the black ones?”

“Oscar, sweetheart… it’s just New Year’s at our place. With your family. And with Lando. It’s all very casual, so stop overthinking what pants wearing!”

You answered from the kitchen island, struggling to cut a pineapple with a knife that was very likely the one Oscar had promised to sharpen. A promise, clearly, left unfulfilled.

Oscar looked at himself in the mirror and rolled his eyes at your answer.

The thing was you were supposed to be helping him. Instead, you were doing quite the opposite.

“I just want to look good, you know? It’s the first time we’re hosting New Year’s here, and, well… you never know what might happen. It’s a special night.”

“Come on, Osc, why are you so nervous?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He avoided your gaze and sneezed instead.

“Okay… you’re definitely hiding something.”

“You think I’m hiding something because I sneezed?”

You nodded. You knew he always did that when he was dodging a topic, and then there was the way he kept fidgeting with his hands, tapping anxiously on his thighs.

“I’m not hiding anything, I swear,” Oscar said again. He tried to sound convincing, but the tremble in his voice gave him away. “I just want tonight to be… memorable.”

All you could do was smile. As much as you didn’t like being left in the dark, the way he kept secrets was, somehow, ridiculously charming. Especially coming from someone like Oscar, who rarely let his emotions show, no matter how hard you’d tried to help him open up.

As the hours passed and midnight drew closer, your home filled with people. First came Oscar’s mom and stepdad. Then his father arrived with his three sisters, who wasted no time grabbing cold beers while casting suspicious glances at your boyfriend. Lando, who was supposed to be one of the first to arrive, ended up being among the last. He said nothing until he reached the makeshift DJ booth he’d insisted you set up behind Oscar’s back. Even your cousin, who hadn’t been too keen on attending such a “different” kind of party, showed up unexpectedly, arm-in-arm with a guy you’d never seen before and who looked nothing like her usual type.

“Who let Oscar cook?” Lando asked, holding up a canapé with salmon that was, honestly, a little overdone. “This piece of toast looks incinerated.”

“Take it or leave it!” Oscar shouted from the kitchen, wrestling with an egg-shaped timer that refused to stop beeping. He slammed it repeatedly against the counter until it finally cracked open. “Holy shit!”

You shook your head, laughing quietly at the surreal scene, especially when Hattie walked over to Oscar and made him swear to buy you a new timer, plus something else she whispered in his ear that you couldn’t quite catch.

You tried, once again, not to read into the secrecy, but it got harder when his entire family huddled in a corner of the living room, politely but firmly refusing to let you join them.

Your cousin must’ve sensed your confusion, because when she came over, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Have you noticed how weird Oscar’s acting? Imagine if he proposes to you!”

“What? No, come on,” you replied quickly, doing your best not to get your hopes up. “In front of his whole family? On New Year’s Eve? That’s so not his style.” You shook your head. “If he ever did something like that, it’d be at home, after dinner or something low-key. He’s not the kind of guy who’d go public with that.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m saying it. Why else would he be this nervous, today of all days? It’s not your first New Year’s together… It’s too obvious.”

You brushed the idea aside, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake it off. Especially when, at 11:30 p.m., Oscar disappeared without a word and now, his sisters and Nicole were clearly stalling you.

Oscar tried to sneak into your bedroom unnoticed, but he knew he hadn’t succeeded. Did he care? Not one bit. Clutching the velvet ring box he’d hidden in his travel bag, he had bigger things on his mind.

“Okay, breathe… You’ve rehearsed this over ten times alone, and five with Lando…”

He crouched down, then stood in front of the full-length mirror to practice kneeling. But on the third attempt of “how to propose to my girlfriend without completely embarrassing myself,” he tripped on the rug and fell flat on his face.

“Shit…”

“Oscar, babe? Are you okay?”

Your voice made him scramble to his feet and instinctively toss the ring box to the back of the closet, terrified you’d catch him.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s great! Just, uh… rehearsing how to celebrate the New Year with you!”

“Osc, sweetheart, this isn’t our first New Year’s together,” you said as you jiggled the door handle, trying to open it. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting a little… off today.”

And that was putting it mildly.

“I’m just nervous because, you know… this is the first of many New Year’s where I’m a Formula 1 world champion!”

You shook your head. At that point, it was obvious—Oscar was up to something. Whatever it was, good or bad, it was going to surprise you.

You said goodbye and reminded him not to take too long—only ten minutes left until midnight. He promised he’d be quick, just needed to stop by the bathroom.

Once he heard your sandals fade down the hallway, he let out a long sigh of relief and turned to face the mirror one last time.

“All right… ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, through the good and the bad. So… will you marry me?���”

[...]

"Five minutes to midnight!" Lando shouted from the terrace, half a glass of champagne in hand as he finally abandoned the DJ booth.

"God, it was about time he got out of there," Nicole whispered to you. "Do you have any idea how nervous that music was making me?"

While you kept chatting with your mother-in-law, Oscar stepped out onto the balcony looking much paler than usual. It was obvious something was up: he scratched the back of his neck, stared at the sky, shoved his hands into his pockets, then looked straight at you and gave you a nervous smile.

"Hey, Osc... are you okay?" you asked, walking up to him with a shyness you hadn’t seen in him since you first started dating back in high school.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine." He glanced at his mom, who was standing behind you. She gave him a discreet thumbs-up. "I just… really want to see the fireworks."

"Oscar. You hate fireworks."

"Exactly the reason why I’m nervous."

He swallowed hard.

You let the little lie slide; there wasn’t time to call him out anyway, because everyone around you had started the countdown. So you just smiled, wrapped your arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

Oscar, gently pulling away, reached into his pocket to grab the box… only to find it wasn’t there.

"No, no, no… shit… where the hell are you?" he muttered under his breath, pretending his panic was about the upcoming fireworks.

He checked the other pocket… nothing. Looked down… nothing. Then, as he fumbled with the back pockets, he finally felt the box. Unfortunately, in pulling it out, it slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a soft thud.

"Five, four, three, two, one…!"

And Oscar tripped right over your feet.

"Happy New Year!"

You dropped to your knees in a slight panic to help him up, praying he hadn’t hurt himself, because the sound of the fall had been anything but soft.

What you weren’t expecting was to find him kneeling in front of you, holding an open box with the ring. The one you’d been eyeing for six months.

You stared at him, confused… and then completely speechless.

"Wait… are you really serious? This isn’t a joke, right?"

He looked up at you. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled and soaked in champagne from the bottle Lando had just popped. Tiny pieces of confetti stuck to the beads of sweat on his face.

"Yes and no," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I mean, sure, I think I’ve dislocated a hip and lost most of my dignity, but… I guess it was worth it."

Then, with just a few quiet seconds and a single question, your eyes welled up.

"Will you marry me?"

Silence wrapped around the room. No one screamed. No one pushed you to answer. You even noticed Lando thoughtfully turning the music down, switching it to Lover by Taylor Swift, the song you’d once told Oscar you wanted playing when you got proposed to.

"Of course, you idiot," you said, tears rolling down your cheeks as you helped him up and pulled him into the tightest hug, burying your face in his chest. "But promise me you won’t be this nervous on our wedding day."

[...]

"Do you think it was too… casual?"

The party was over, and now the two of you were curled up in bed, sharing a McDonald’s burger because, as it turned out, Lando was right—putting Oscar in charge of New Year’s dinner had been a mistake you wouldn’t repeat.

"Well… you tripped over a rug while rehearsing, then fell again and ended up with confetti all over your face. So I wouldn’t call it casual. I’d say… unique."

"Yeah… It definitely didn’t go as planned."

"But it was perfect anyway," you cut in.

Oscar sat up, holding his Big Mac box like it was a sacred artifact, and looked at you.

"Really?"

"Of course! If there’s anything that defines us, it’s not just how much we love each other… it’s also how ridiculously clumsy we are."

"Right… And listen, speaking of clumsy…" he said with a guilty grin. "I think it’s very much fair you tell Lando that you were the one who burned all the food and ruined New Year’s dinner."

© VETTELSVEE (2025). Please, do not steal, copy, translate and share my works in other platforms. Thanks for reading!

[nanamisdollie]

his favorite concubine ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

smut, mdni. cw: dubcon, true form sukuna(monster fucking?), use of stomach mouth for freaky purposes <3

just thinking about being one of ryomen sukunas servants who ends up promoted to concubine<3

maybe it was your body that caught his attention, perhaps the way you listened when given orders? was it that you worked quick unlike others who served, or could it have been that you held eye contact when the four eyed beast of a man passed you. it couldve been any of those things that led you to this point;

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“stop- fuckin’ squirming-“

two of four oversized arms had you bent with your knees beside your ears, hands interlocked behind your neck. you had never been manhandled in such a way, nevermind wondered how a man with four arms would have his way with you.

“if you don’t learn how to stay still-“ another hand comes up to hold your face, forcing you to look at him. theres four eyes all on you “-ill slay you myself. find another woman to breed. you understand?”

its a struggle to nod, so a muffled “mhm~” does the trick..not that he would’ve taken anything other than yes as a proper answer. a concubine did her job of providing pleasure or died, it was that simple to a powerful man like sukuna. an heir would be nice as well, though it wasn’t a must.

a hand falls from your face to wrap around your waist, pulling you up his abdomen. your legs are beginning to cramp, your pelvis hurts, but you don’t dare mention it. he wouldn’t care even if you did.

“mm- ah! wha-” the gasp thats ripped from your chest is abrupt in reaction to something wet between your thighs. its an odd sensation, one that you squirm away from until - SMACK! - on the underside of one of your thighs.

sukuna tightens the full nelsons he bent you into. when he adjusts you higher up, you’re able to get a proper look at just whats probing between your lower lips; his second mouth, trying its best to tongue fuck you open for him.

“stop clenching” a grunt hums against your neck, the lower tongue flattening as it licks a stripe from your leaking hole to your clit “s’ gonna hurt worse if you fight it- just let it happen, woman”

so you do. this was your job as a concubine, you had to remember that.

relaxing your lower half you let him violate you with the mouth. its a sensation unlike anything you've ever felt, though not awful. it makes your cunt drool, softening naturally in preparation for whatever your lord planned to do next.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"hah! h-holy fuck-!"

"don't speak of holiness while in my quarters" strong firm hips buck up into your own, still held in a mean full nelson that left you spread wide open.

now though, two cocks were coaxing your slit open. you had relaxed all you could like he demanded, his second tongue had gotten you to drip a lewd amount over his lower stomach, and yet even the tips of both were enough to have you shaking.

"mm-lord sukuna! p-please..." tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you couldn't help the overflowing whines and sobs you let out, it was all too much and yet he kept going.

"last time- shit- i checked-" both lengths push further into your weeping cunt, fat tears begin to slip down your flushed cheeks "-concubines werent supposed to- fuckin' take it- talk back to their master"

your heads spinning, you can feel your hole pulsating as it tries to take in every inch of both cocks. they’re not just long, they’re thick, fat even at the tip. every inch burns but theres an underlying pleasure to it that makes you want more.

a lapping at your cheek brings you back to him, heavy eyes glancing towards the monsters face; he’s grinning while licking up your tears, a chuckle reverberates into your back “pretty crier at least…”

sukuna finally, with one powerful thrust, is able to slot both cocks fully inside. it knocks the wind out of you.

the sensation is nothing like anything you’ve ever felt. full, stretched beyond what should be humanly possible, your cunts memorizing every vein as if you were being molded to fit him. your were so fucking dizzy you could hardly keep your eyes open.

smack, smack, smack!

“look at me, look at your lord while you take my cocks”

a firm hand held your face again after a few merciful slaps. once more you were forced to hold eye contact with him

“picked you to be one of my toys…cause’ of the way you looked at me” a deep thrust has his balls smacking your clit and his tips rutting into your cervix “you don’t fuckin’ look away. felt like- ug- you were beggin’ for this”

when he gets no reply he smacks your cheek once again with more force. “tell me. tell your lord that you wanted this”

his hips begin to piston up into you, ripping a yelp from somewhere deep in your chest. its like he’s fucking into your cervix now. your cries, skin slapping, grunts from him bounce of the walls.

“i-i- mmph! wan-wanted this!”

sukuna grunts and picks up the pace of his thrusts, practically snarling into your ear. his breath was blistering against your flushed skin

“wanted- ah! shi- wanted lord kuna!”

another deep chuckle from him makes the burning in your lower stomach begin to grow. your cunt was tightening, choking his lengths. you can hear his grunts become huffs, his pace is slowing.

“wanted kuna so bad? huh?” a whine is all you can muster out“then cum. milk my seed, woman”

the words are so vulgar, and yet they break that tension that had been growing. tears pool down your cheeks once more as you cum, legs shaking in his grasp. you’re sobbing, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasm rips throughout your used body.

just the spasming on your already snug cunt has sukuna busting from both cocks not long after. he growls while pushing his hips flush to your own, balls pressed right up to your clit. you swear you can feel your cervix open up for him, like it needed his seed.

“atta girl…” he huffs out a tired sigh, finally letting your legs fall, his arms falling by his head. you nearly pass out from the pressure release. so dizzy, your legs feel like jelly, your arms are numb, and he’s still pushed all the way inside you.

when you try to move, one of his four arms stops you. your eyes meet and he pulls your back to his chest, two of his other hands coming up to caress your breasts.

“you’re gonna stay here. gotta make sure it takes.” one of the hands on your breasts slips to your lower stomach, brushing it gently ���can tell your cunt wants to make me an heir. isnt that right?”

oh to give sukuna an heir. i love u true form sukuna<333

[keraawrites]

Tinker

Summary: You were a little oblivious when it came to Bakugo and his flirting so it was only right that you had a little push. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: nicknames (ma, baby, mama), Oral (f receiving), missionary, cowgirl, jealous Bakugo

Word count — 7k (fucking hell)

Babble: I don't know if I like this...

It was no secret that you were one of the best on the support course; you never joined UA to be a pro, that was never your dream. You loved to tinker, build, destroy. Your eyes always lit up whenever you got a new project; some would say you were worse than Mei.

You had made a name for yourself at UA, straight from first year when you helped the hero course with their support items and made some friends along the way.

So even though you were a support course student with a C-list quirk, you were always welcomed in Class 3-A dorms.

"Thank God you're here!" Your brows raised from the sound of Mina's screech. Your pink friend was currently sat with the rest of the girls, snacks all around them as they tried to tackle on what seemed like a new homework assignment that Aizawa probably set for them.

"You guys know damn well I cant help you--"

"No, we don't need your help." The pinkette giggled, gesturing for you to join them.

You huffed as you dropped your bag on the floor, you were still currently in your uniform, minus the blazer. Your shirt had some stains on it from all your tinkering you had done earlier.

"So what do you want?"

"Eh, that's no way to talk to your best friend." You rolled your eyes at Mina's outburst, the rest of the girls giggled, Jirou offered you some sweets as you snatched an empty skietch pad from the circle.

"We haven't seen you in a couple of days. What's so precious that it's taken your time away from us?" Ochako asked, voice slight of teasing as she nudged her knee with yours.

"A boy, maybe?' Hagakure chimed in, your face scrunched up in slight disgust. It's not that you didn't appreciate the guys in your school; you just didn't have time for them. Most of the time.

You weren't a virgin, far from it, but some of the guys didn't give you as much pleasure as tinkering with your gadgets did (pun not intended)

"No, the boys in my course are boring as fuck and expect to just get a girl off on penetration alone."

A beat of silence.

Then the whole group howled.

“Damn, say it louder!” Mina cackled, nearly choking on a chip.

“I’ve just given up on men until I meet one who knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh?” Mina leaned in, eyes sparkling. “So you’re open to the right one?”

You paused, side-eyeing her. “I guess? But no one’s really caught my eye.”

The circle went suspiciously quiet.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jirou said way too quickly.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me—what’s with the faces?”

“It’s just…” Mina grinned, eyes devilish. “There might be someone who could keep up with you.”

You laughed, leaning back on your hands. “Highly doubt it.”

The group kept giving you knowing glances that started to irritate you, but before you could demand anything, Midoriya walked into the kitchen, his eyes glancing over to you before they lit up.

"You're here." The green-haired boy ran over to you, excitement in his voice. '"ohmygod thank god, ineedhelpwithmysupport--"

"Deku, slow down. You know I can never understand your rambling"

"R--right sorry. My support item’s been acting weird and I wanted to see if you could take a look at it. I didn’t want to bother Hatsume again—last time she added a grenade launcher without asking.”

You snorted. “Classic Mei. Yeah, I got you.”

Midoriya lit up, you already started walking as he rambled on next to you.

Bakugo had watched the two of you walk off together, he had froze mid step as he stepped into the common room, Kirishima and Kaminair stopping behind him.

“…The fuck?” he muttered, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Aww, was that y/n just now? I wanted to tell her about this new game I found." The overenergetic blonde let out as he waltzed up to the girls.

"Where the fuck are they going?" He barked, not caring how outraged he sounded.

"Oh, Izuku asked her something and she agreed. I guess they are getting it over with." The blonde blinked at his pink friend, he must not have heard her right.

"The fuck you just say?"

Mina looked up at him, and her grin spread slow and sweet. “He asked her for something,” she said innocently. “So she said yes. I guess they’re getting it over with.”

Bakugo blinked.

“Excuse me?” His voice cracked around the edges.

“Oh, you know,” Mina said, fake-casual. “He asked. She said yes. So now they’re off… getting it done.”

“They’re working on his support gear, Bakugo,” Jirou cut in, rolling her eyes. “You can calm down before you combust.”

“I am calm,” he growled.

“You’re clenching your fists so hard your knuckles are white,” Hagakure pointed out.

“You’re jealous,” Mina teased, wiggling her brows. “So cute.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!”

Kirishima raised a brow. “You sure? Because it kinda looks like you want to murder Deku.”

“Tch.” Bakugo scowled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Dumbasses. Don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

He turned and stomped off, ears red.

“Where’s he going?” Kaminari asked, watching him leave.

“Probably to pace a hole into the training room floor,” Jirou replied.

It had only been two days since you started working on Deku’s wristbands, and honestly? You were kind of obsessed.

They were one of your favourite projects to date. Originally designed by a renowned American tech engineer and brought to life by Mei during your first year, the bands were a blend of precision engineering and brute-force durability. Honing them to perfection? A dream.

Your lab was your sanctuary—quiet except for the bass-heavy rap playlist bouncing off the walls, the smell of solder and metal in the air, and the hum of your tools in your hand.

You were currently bent over the workbench, shorts riding up your thighs, cropped tank clinging to your body as you adjusted one of the internal circuits with surgeon-level precision. You barely noticed the way your hips swayed to the music while you worked—it was instinctual, natural.

Deku had followed you to your lab that day, notebook clutched like it was his lifeline, rambling about specs and hopeful upgrades. You listened. You even took a few notes. Then, you promptly kicked him out.

“I’ll bring them to you when I’m done,” you said.

That was 48 hours ago.

You wiped sweat from your brow, tongue poking out between your lips as you tightened the last screw on the left bracelet. The power calibration was just right now.

“Fuck yeah,” you murmured under your breath, pleased with yourself.

You were about to run a final diagnostics scan when—

“Oi.”

The low, gruff voice snapped you out of your focus.

You blinked, barely registering the thunk of something heavy being dropped on your bench until you looked up—and damn near lost your train of thought again.

Katsuki Bakugo. Resident rage monster of 3-A. Towering in front of your workstation, a towel slung over one shoulder, chest still gleaming from a fresh workout. His black tank clung to every inch of his torso like it had been painted on, and those gray joggers hung low on his hips like they had a damn grudge against your willpower.

Your gaze flicked to the gauntlet he’d dropped, then back to him.

“Can I help you, Bakugo?”

“There’s something wrong with this damn thing,” he grunted, jaw tense. “Don’t got time to mess with it myself.”

Your brows raised in surprise, you heard that he worked on his gauntlets himself. Refusing to let anyone tinker with his babies so yes, you were surprised that he was asking (?) for your help.

You blinked, honestly a little thrown. “You want me to look at your gauntlet?”

“I’m asking, ain’t I?” he snapped, irritation laced with something that felt like… impatience.

You blinked, thrown off. This was… weird. Not that he was asking for help—well, okay, yes, that too—but it was the way he was doing it. Almost like he trusted you. Like he was trying not to sound too desperate, and failing miserably.

You squinted at him, skeptical. “You don’t let anyone touch your shit.”

He just folded his arms tighter.

You scoffed, pushing your glasses up your nose as you looked over him, it wasn't a secret that Bakugo was a hot head, he called everyone he could extra's and blew up at people for little things but he was one of the strongest at UA and he was fucking hot.

“You’re not really asking, though,” you said, grinning. “You’re demanding. That tone? It needs work.”

“Oi—”

“Hush.” You leaned over the gauntlet, trying (and failing) to tamp down your excitement. If working on Deku’s wristbands was thrilling, Bakugo’s gauntlets? That shit had your panties wet. You’d always wondered how the internal mechanisms kept up with the sheer output of his quirk. The heat, the pressure, the exhaust management—how it didn’t blow his damn hands off every time.

Your fingers danced over the gauntlet, brushing the edge of the release valve. “God, this is so sexy.”

Bakugo couldn't help but watch you, you were in your element. The way your fingers ran down his gauntlents, like they were your prized possession. The excitement that glimmerde in your brown eyes as you began to tweak his shit.

His eyes trailed down to your bare thighs, specks of oil and dirt taineted your brown skin but you still looked beautiful none the less.

It wasn't normal for him to have a crush, he didn't do crushes. Yeah he's been with a couple of girls but that was just sex. He had never wanted something more, but yet he somehow had feelings for you and you still were unaware.

He thought he made it obvious a couple of times but the blonde came to learn you were quite oblivious and blind to things that weren't your gadgets.

"I could have fixed this for you right now but I don't have the part I need. I'll have to run to the mall tomorrow for it. That okay?"

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. “I’ll come with.”

You blinked. “Huh? You don’t have to—it’s just a quick trip—”

“I’d rather know what you’re puttin’ in my gear, so yeah. I’m coming.” You blinked at his bluntness as he walked out of your workshop, your eyes following the way his back muscles moved as he walked.

Wait.

Did he just sugest that you two spend time together?

Alone?

Willingly!?

It was a mistake to tell your pink friend about your visit from the blonde.

"NO WAY! It's a date. It has to be a date!" Your eye twitched at the level of excitement that came from her lungs.

"it's not a date Mina, he's just being possessive about his gear and wants to make sure I'm not messing it up or whatever." You said as you finished putting on your outfit.

"Yeah, so why you dressed like it's a date?" You blinked at her question, looking in the mirror over your outift. It wasn't strange that you wore an outfit like this, everyone who knew you outside of your tinkering knew you'd like to t dress girly whenever you had the chance.

So yes, a pink skirt and crop top shouldn't have screamed date. But Mina has now put ideas in your head.

“Okay but like,” she started from behind you, voice softer now. “You like him. Don’t you?”

You paused, fingers hovering over your hair.

“…I don’t know.”

She snorted. “Liar.”

You didn’t reply.

Because maybe you did know. Maybe the way your chest fluttered when he called you dumbass with no real malice, or when you watched him spar with Kiri and the others. He was a sight for sore eyes, so yes he found him attraive, as hell. But did you like him?

You said you didn’t have time for any of the guys in your course and while that was true, the most part of it was because you often wondered if the blonde was cocky in other areas.

"Bakugo doesn't do hangouts, Kiri has to drag him whenever we do group hangouts and he just suggested he'd come with you? He's finally given up on sly ways of flirting I'd give him that."

"W-what are you on about?"

The pink girl grinned as she looked over at you, "We told you that there was someone who could keep up with you the other day did we not?"

You glared at her, but she just grinned wider, chin propped on her hands. She hummed as she got up from your bed, pulling your hair out of its ponytail, your curls stopping just below your shoulders.

“Keep it out,” she said softly. “Trust me.”

“Mina…”

“I’ll shut up. But text me everything. Like, updates. Live feed. I want tea in real time.”

And with a wink, she left.

You turned to look back at yourself in the mirror-- no you were not changing. This wasn't for him, you dressed for youself, your girly counterpart to your greasy tinker fairy.

This was not a date. You were just going to to get the part you needed, pick up some manga and other bits and come back and finish of his gear.

You made your way out of your dorm building, walking over to the gates where he said he'd meet you. You noticed him before he noticed you, he wore a white t-shirt with some black jeans...

Fuck, fuuckkkk. Why was he so fine!?

"You're late."

"Huh, I'm actually early," you replied, swallowing thickly as his eyes dragged over you.

You felt your pulse spike under his gaze, and suddenly every word Mina said was back in your head. You crossed your arms over your chest—just to do something with your hands—but didn’t realize it only pushed your boobs up a little higher.

Bakugo's pupils dilated only for a second before he started walking.

"Hey, you can't just walk off."

"Then keep up."

You jogged a few steps to catch him, lips twitching. “You’re the one who invited yourself, y’know.”

“Tch. Only ‘cause you’d pick the wrong shit.”

“Oh, so now I’m the dumbass and the liability?”

His shoulders twitched—maybe from a laugh, maybe from irritation. With Bakugo, it was always a coin toss.

You kept walking, the silence falling in comfortably between you both. You didn't know what to say, you wanted to say something, there couldn't just be silence between you two for the whole time.

But what would you even say? Mina had put ridiculous ideas in your head about Bakugo, and now you didn't know how to act around the blonde.

"Here." You blinked, looking up at him as he handed you his left earbud.

"I can just listen to my own music."

"Huh? What's the point in that if we're together." He rebuttled, shoving the bud into your ear.

"Yeah, but you probably listen to heavy metal, that's probably the only thing that keeps up with your exposiveness." You teased, the blonde clicked his tongue as he pinched your cheeks, causing you to whine.

You were about to scold him, but the sound of his choice of music caught you off guard.

“…Wait. Is this—?”

“Don’t say shit.”

“Is this—SZA?!”

Bakugo growled low under his breath, glaring at the sidewalk like it betrayed him.

“Oh my god.” You bit your lip, grinning. “You listen to Snooze?”

“She’s got good vocals, alright?” he snapped. “Shut up.”

You couldn’t help it. You full-on laughed. “This is so soft. You’re soft. I’m gonna tell Kiri.”

“You tell anyone and I swear to god—”

You were still giggling as the two of you turned the corner. He kept his head turned slightly away from you, but you could see the pink creeping up his neck.

Your fingers brushed his briefly as you walked—just a flick of skin on skin. Neither of you moved away.

“…You listen to music like this often?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged, still looking ahead. “Sometimes. When I’m working. Shit gets loud in my head. It helps.”

Your smile softened.

You didn’t expect him to say something like that.

And maybe you didn’t need to.

It wasn't long until you reached the shop you needed.

It was tucked into a side street—one of those speciality spots that looked half abandoned from the outside but had everything a gearhead could dream of on the inside.

You pushed open the door, the bell above jingling as you stepped into the cool, metal-scented air. Immediately, your eyes scanned the shelves, familiar with the layout. Organised chaos. Home sweet home.

Bakugo followed behind you, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced around. "This place looks like it's one breath away from collapsing to shit."

You grinned. "That’s the point. All the best stuff is in the mess."

You walked confidently toward the back where the hardware modules were displayed behind glass. “This guy sources from the same place the Support Course pulls from. He just doesn’t bother with the fancy labels.”

You crouched down, scanning the second row until your eyes lit up. “There. That’s the one I need.”

He leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his chest behind you. “Sure that’s it?”

“Do not question me.”

“Tch.” He leaned in closer, voice low. “Just makin’ sure. Can’t have you screwin’ up my shit.”

“Your shit was overclocked and fried through three layers of plating. That’s not on me.” You tilted your head up with a smug smile—and regretted it immediately.

His face was right there.

Crimson eyes. Faint scent of whatever cologne he wore mixed with burnt caramel. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just looked down at you, his mouth twitching like he was about to say something.

Instead, he reached over and knocked on the glass.

“Yo! You got this one in stock?”

An older man shuffled out from the back, nodded, and went to grab the part. You quickly straightened up, heart thudding like a drum in your chest. You avoided Bakugo’s eyes as you pulled out your wallet.

He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “I got it.”

You blinked. “What? No, this is my—”

“You’re fixin’ my gear,” he said gruffly, not looking at you. “Least I can do is pay for the part.”

“But I—”

“Shut up and let me do it.”

You opened your mouth again but closed it when you saw his ears going red.

You both stepped back out into the sunny street, walking shoulder to shoulder in a much more relaxed silence than before even if he still refused to meet your eyes for paying for the part.

You tucked the part carefully into your bag and sighed contentedly. "Alright, mission complete. Wanna head back?"

Bakugo made a sound like he was already halfway through saying “yes,” but then you turned slightly, eyes catching on a storefront a few doors down.

“Ooh—wait,” you pointed, already switching direction. “Hold up. I wanna check out the manga shop.”

Bakugo raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“You decided to tag along with me, so put up with my side quests.” You shot him a look over your shoulder.

You pushed the door open, the little jingle ringing out again, and walked inside. The place was compact but cosy—wooden shelves lined every wall, organised by genre and series. You let out a little happy sigh and made a beeline for the romance section, already scanning for the next volume of a series you’d been waiting on.

Bakugo followed behind, keeping his hands in his pockets, pretending to look bored. But you noticed how he didn’t stray too far. Not even when you stopped in front of a bright pink-covered volume with delicate art.

“Ooooh—finally.” You grabbed it like it was a treasure, flipping through the pages. “My Star’s Last Confession, volume 10. I’ve been waiting months for this one.”

The blonde glanced at it, and froze.

You caught it. “What?”

“…Nothing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You know this manga.”

“No, I don’t.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Katsuki. You paused. You definitely know this manga.”

His jaw ticked. “It’s just—whatever. It’s popular. You see it online.”

You blinked at him. “You read romance manga?”

He turned his head like he was trying to physically escape the question. “Tch. Not usually.”

You gasped, stepping in front of him. “Oh my God, you do. Don’t even lie. Wait—wait—do you actually like My Star’s Last Confession?!”

“…maybe.”

You smacked his arm with the volume in your hand. “No way! First music and now manga, you actually have taste.

He rolled his eyes, but his ears were pink. “It’s not about taste. The story’s just… good.”

“Ohhh, so you cried when Rika confessed at the shrine, didn’t you?” you teased.

“I didn’t cry.”

“You so cried.”

Bakugo tried to look annoyed, but the way his mouth twitched said otherwise. “You get loud about everything, you know that?”

“Only things I'm excited about,” you grinned.

You both browsed for a while longer, laughing over a few ridiculous plot twists and complaining about series that dragged out too long. At one point, your hands brushed reaching for the same volume—and neither of you pulled back.

You quickly grabbed your manga, pressing it to your chest, and cleared your throat. “Okay… I’m ready to head back to campus.”

Bakugo didn’t move. “We don’t gotta yet.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean…” he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I was thinkin’… There’s a noodle place not far. You hungry?”

You tilted your head. “Like… get food?”

He shrugged. “Why not?"

Your heart did that dumb little flutter again. “...Like, you and me?”

He gave you a look that was definitely not annoyed—just a little too intense. “Yeah. You and me.”

You tried not to smile. “Okay. Yeah. I could eat.”

As you both walked out of the store, bags in hand, earbuds still loosely shared between you, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe Mina had been onto something after all.

You two had a great time, the blonde wasn't the silent brooding type you expected him to be. He asked you questions, spoke to you about your goals for after UA.

The conversation was good-- comfortable, and if it didn't happen more than once, you would have surely thought you were hearing things. But Bakugo was being flirty, in his own ridiculous way.

And to top it off, he paid. Again.

Like it was normal. Like you two did this kind of thing all the time. And somehow, it felt like that—natural, easy. No explosions (yet), no arguing (much). Just the two of you, side by side, eating and talking about stupid things and he made you laugh.

Was Mina… right?

The question had been gnawing at the back of your mind the entire walk back. Every time your arms brushed. Every time he looked over, like he was checking to make sure you were keeping up—even though you both walked in step.

“You good?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. He didn’t look at you, but his voice held something gentler than usual. That gravelly low that came out when he wasn’t on edge.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Just… thinking.”

His eyes cut over briefly before he nodded, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

You breathed out, still feeling the leftover heat of him beside you. It wasn’t even cold, but the wind caught your skirt and made you curl slightly inward.

“You cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe if you brought a jacket, given what you’re wearin’—”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” you shot back, brows raised, even though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

He glanced at you, eyes flicking down then back up. “Didn’t say there was. You look good. But now you’re cold.”

I… look good?

You silently thanked God for two reasons: one, that it was dark outside. Two, that you were Black, because the flush rising to your cheeks would’ve been way more obvious otherwise.

“Thanks, by the way,” you said, a little quieter. “For the food. I wasn’t expecting… well, I dunno. Just… thanks.”

“Tch. Told you not to make it weird.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, and this time when you looked over at him, he didn’t look away.

The gates to the dorms were up ahead, and even though your feet were aching, your chest was heavier at the thought of the night ending.

“I’m gonna start working on the gauntlet,” you murmured. “Should be ready by tomorrow. Midday, latest.”

Bakugo gave a little nod, then slowed just a fraction, tilting his head toward you.

“Y’know… I wanna trade.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

His ears were red. He wasn’t looking right at you. “I got a signed first edition of somethin’ you might like. You give me what you bought today, I’ll trade you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“What series?!”

“You’ll see.”

“Well show me!”

You barely waited for his response before you bolted toward the dorm doors, Bakugo’s low laugh trailing behind you like heat.

He watched you go, a smirk pulling at his lips. In the common room, Mina nearly dropped her phone trying to wave you down as you beelined past everyone and made a beeline for the elevator.

“Girl! Where the hell you—?”

“Later, Mina!” you called over your shoulder, not stopping.

Bakugo strolled in a second later, ignoring the confused looks, a small smirk tugging against his lips.

The journey up to his room was fast, it was probably from all the excitement to see what series he was talking about.

But that excitement soon turned to nerves once you actually got to his room.

It was what you expected to be fair. His room was completely clean and organised, a couple of All Mighht posters and some rock bands, his books laid out on his desk and a pile of gym clothes on his chair in his corner.

You slowly entered the room, jumping slightly from the slam of his door. Your eyes darted over the room, noticing small things that seemed to make sense for him but before you could get a deeper look you felt a nudge into your arm.

A sealed plastic sleeve, slightly worn at the edges from age. Your eyes widened.

“No. No fucking way.”

He smirked. “Yep.”

“You have A Garden In Winter?! SIGNED?!”

The title alone sent a jolt through your whole body. It was one of your favorite slow-burn romance manga—long out of print, basically impossible to find in good condition.

And he had it.

“Don’t play with me, Katsuki” you said, snatching it gently from his hand like it was made of glass.

“Hey—careful with it,” he warned, but his tone was light. Almost teasing.

You stared at the neat signature across the front page, your mouth dry. “How the hell did you even get this?”

Bakugo shrugged and plopped down on the edge of his bed. “Had it since second year. My mom got it signed at some con. Didn’t know what it was until I actually read it.”

“And you read it?”

“…Yeah.”

You looked up from the sleeve slowly, still half in shock. “So you’re telling me you’ve been reading romance manga this whole time and hid it from everyone?”

“Those extras don't gotta know this shit.’,” he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

You laughed—this delighted, disbelieving sound that made his lips twitch.

“I’m not letting this outta my sight,” you muttered, flipping it open like it was sacred.

“So? You tradin’ or not?” he asked, nodding toward the small bag you still clutched.

You set your bag on his desk and pulled out the part he needed, laying it neatly beside his blueprints. You hadn't even realised you sat on his bed until you madce yourself comfortable, skirt riding up your thighs softly.

You could feel his stare on you, you tried so hard to concertate on the book in your hand. Your fingers brushed against the fabric of his sheets untul they hit something wooden.

Blinking slightly, you picked up to woddedn sticks, looking back at the blonde who just continued to stare at you.

"Oh my God yeah, your a fucking drummer boy. Remember from the festival in first year."

Bakugo scoffed slightly, taking the sticks from you before placing them down on his desk.

"Those extras know I'm good at everything and goaded me into playing."

You bit your lip, eyes wandering over him, heart beating slightly against your chest. "Maybe people underestimated you, you say your good at everything-- doesn't mean your actyally good at everything."

The blonde's eyes dipped slightly, gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

"I am good at everything."

You licked your lips softly, watching how he inched closer to you.

"Some people have to see it to believe it."

You weren't suprsied it happened, what you was suprised about was how fucking amazing it felt.

Kissing Bakugo was just what you’d always imagined it would be. He didn’t do anything half-assed, so you weren’t surprised by the passion behind it. Being this close to him was exhilarating. You could smell the faint scent of caramel on him when you breathed in, tilting your head slightly as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip.

He wedged his knee between yours, prying your legs to open futher as he pushed you both down onto the bed. Your hands were planted firmly in his hair as his fingers ran on the inner skin of your thigh.

He pulled away, the two of you breathless. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck, nipping lightly as he went. You sighed when his hands moved from your thigh, fingers drifting along the exposed flesh of your belly and trailing lightly up your sides. Your nails began scratching lightly along his scalp and tugging at his soft locks as his teeth worried at the place where your neck and shoulder met.

It wasn’t long before his fingers smoothed their way up your calf. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs wider, tracing one finger over your clothed slit. The look in his eyes was positively feral when they met yours. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You moaned softly as he began drawing small circles, but it was short-lived when you pulled the blonde off you, the worry in his eyes was bright before disappearing as he watched you pull your top over your head. His eyes galzed over in lust as they darted down to your boobs that were covered in a white lace.

He leaned in, mouth warm as he traced the edge of your bra with his tongue. You unclasped it and he wasted no time tossing it aside, big hands kneading your tits while his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking until it was stiff and aching. Your back arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair, gasping when he switched to the other with the same slow, tormenting rhythm.

You dragged him up into another kiss, messier this time, as your hands worked beneath his shirt. He pulled back just enough to rip it off, and fuck—he was gorgeous. Cut like a sculpture, every line and dip begging to be touched.

Your hands roamed, nails dragging over his pecs and abs before you leaned up to mouth along his collarbone, feeling the rumble in his chest when you nipped his skin.

He let out a low growl, flipping you further up the bed and covering you with his body again. His forearms braced on either side of your head, hips pressing into yours while he kissed you rough and slow, like he needed to make the moment last.

Then his mouth was gone again, trailing heat down your torso. He tugged your skirt down, and you helped him kick it off, breath catching as the room's cool air kissed your exposed skin. He groaned when he saw your soaked panties—black, delicate, and clinging to your folds.

“You know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this?” he muttered, hot against your thigh as he settled between your legs.

Your head fell back when his hand slid higher, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. Even through the lace, it made you twitch.

“Katsuki—” you whimpered.

“You’ve been so fucking oblivious,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. “Actin’ like I didn’t want you. Actin’ like I wasn’t ready to drop everything just to touch you like this.”

You gasped as he slid your panties aside, thick fingers gliding through your soaked folds. “Shit—you're so wet already.”

Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down, slow and deliberate, letting his eyes roam as he took you in bare for the first time.

He groaned like he was in pain. “Fuck. Look at you.”

You spread your legs for him, shameless, your cunt glistening under the soft light, already clenching on nothing.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, then again, higher, until he was just breathing against you.

“Bet you taste even better than I imagined.”

Your hand threaded through his hair, and the second your hips lifted in silent invitation, he dove in.

His mouth met your pussy like he’d been dreaming of it—tongue flat and slow at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, groaning when your thighs trembled around his head. He sucked your clit between his lips and you cried out, hips twitching, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands were there—gripping your thighs, holding you wide open for him.

He was messy with it. Tongue fucking you between tight circles over your clit, moaning into your folds like he couldn’t get enough. You were panting, writhing, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other gripping his hair like a lifeline.

“Fuck, Katsuki— please—don’t stop—”

That just made him go harder, sloppier, like he was trying to make you come with his mouth alone.

And you would. You were close. Too close.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my fuckin’ face?”

Your back arched. “Yes—yes, I’m gonna—”

“Good. Make a mess on my tongue.”

It was almost a shame how fast you came. A choked moan leaving your lips, hips rolling, body shaking as he lapped you through it, humming into your cunt like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

And when he finally pulled away, his mouth glistening, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and smirked.

“You good?” His arm came up to wipe the wetness from his mouth and chin, a smirk on his lips when you nodded.

You cleared your throat. “So good.” You sat up on your elbows, watching him stand again and shove his jeans along with briefs down his legs. Your eyes widened slightly at his size, appreciating his body quietly. He was an Adonis, and you wanted to trace over every inch of his body with your fingers and tongue.

He didn’t give you a chance, crawling back towards you. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him. “Do I need to grab a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.”

You weren’t sure why the question made your stomach flutter the way it did, but something about the way he asked—so sure, but still asking—sent heat straight to your core.

“Oh, thank god,” he groaned, leaning down, palms flat on either side of your head as he kissed you deep. The taste of yourself on his tongue was lewd and addicting, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, anchoring him to you.

You don't know why it took you so long, but God, you knew you’d probably never get enough.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, voice airy and pleading as he coated his tip with your slick, your hips rocked up toward him, impatient to feel him filling you up.

He didn’t say a word—just locked eyes with you and began to push in.

Your mouth dropped open on a moan as the stretch began to build. He was so big it almost hurt, your body instinctively tightening around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched tight. “You’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.”

You whimpered, legs trembling as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and you swore the air left your lungs.

"Kat—fuck." You were full, completely and utterly stuffed. It was the best kind of pressure, and your cunt fluttered helplessly around him.

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, one hand gripping your hip, the other stroking along your waist to soothe you. Then he started to move.

He pulled out almost all the way, then rolled his hips back in, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching on every exhale. Slow at first, his pace deliberate, like he was learning what made you moan, what made your thighs twitch, what made you lose your goddamn mind.

“Fuck, you feel insane,” he grunted, voice strained as he dipped down to kiss your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “So fuckin’ warm, so tight—shit, you were made for me.”

Your hands ran up his back, nails scratching lightly over his shoulder blades. “Faster,” you begged, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Katsuki, harder—”

Your moans and mumbled pleas of faster and harder were answered with a smirk, the boy between your thighs raising himself up to his knees and lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Large hands held your hips firmly in place as he slammed himself inside, tip kissing your cervix as you arched up in pleasure. He picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your ears as you bit down on your bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of him filling you up just like you’d always wanted.

“F-fuck!” you cried out, eyes rolling as his cock hit your sweet spot dead-on.

“Yeah?” he growled, hips snapping into yours with obscene, wet slaps. “That what you needed, baby?”

When he bent forward, pressing your leg up toward your chest, the stretch burned again in the best way, your body forced open for him. He sealed your lips in a kiss, groaning as he felt how your cunt squeezed around him when his tongue met yours.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered into your mouth, “wrapped around me like this—like you were waitin’ for me.”

Your walls kept fluttering around him, you could feel your orgasm trying to wash over you, but you didn't want it to end yet.

You pressed your plams aginast his chest, the blonde halted his movements, his brows furrowed as he stared down at you but didn't get a chance to ask you what was wrong.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pivoting your weight and flipped him over. Katsuki's eyes widened as you took your place, straddling him, cook still buried in your cervix.

"Fuck mama."

Katsuki threw his head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so pretty like this, his skin flushed and chest heaving, hair mussed from your hands running through it. You leaned forward, dragging your lips along his sharp jaw, breathing in the scent of caramel.

He chose that moment to tighten his hands around your hips, holding you steady as he bucked up into you, forcing you to sit up, your back arching in pleasure. The muscles in your legs burned from exertion, but you kept moving, bouncing on his cock and clenching around him. You knew you’d be sore the next day but felt too good to stop.

One of his hands moved from your hip, fingers trailing across your skin to dip between your thighs, one calloused finger pressing against your clit. Gasping, you moaned his name lowly, your head falling back as you felt your body preparing to throw you over the edge again. “Oh fuck, I’m close.” Voice trembling, you held your breath, letting your eyes close.

He sat up suddenly, chest to chest, feet pressed into the mattress as he fucked up into you. Your hands flew to his hair, moaning as you fluttered around his cock, his breath was warm against you as he whispered praises into your ear

“Katsuki,” you gasped, mouth falling open as your back arched. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah? Come on my cock, ma. Come for me.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like a live wire—thighs shaking, fingers clawing at his arms, your pussy fluttering around him as he slammed up into you,, milking every last drop of pleasure out of you.

Your toes curled as you rode out your orgasm, nails digging into the pale flesh of his back as you tried to keep yourself tethered to him, feeling as though you might float away, his name shuddering from your parted lips

He slowed, grinding deep, but never let you go. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuckin’ beautiful when you come.”

Groaning lowly in your ear, he came right after, his cum painted your walls, the warm liquid filling you up as he continued to fuck you both through your orgasm.

Your thighs trembled around his hips as the aftershocks rolled through you. For a long moment, neither of you moved—just breathing in sync, sweat-slicked skin pressed close, foreheads resting together.

Eventually, Katsuki eased you both down, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thump as you collapsed on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear. His hand found your back, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles along your spine.

"What's so funny?"

You peeked up at him, eyes still hazy with bliss. “Just thinkin’ about how long I’ve been clueless.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue and nipped gently at your neck, just enough to make you squirm. “Tch. Took you long enough. Now you’re stuck with me.”

You hummed softly, but the blonde lifted your chin up to press a kiss to your lips.

“You're stayin’ over,” he mumbled against your lips. “Not negotiable.”

You grinned, brushing your nose against his. “Guess I better get comfy then.”

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[iamgonnagetyouback]

꒰ james who's against potter!reader's relationship with regulus ꒱

james potter had always known one truth that no one could change― his little sister deserved the best.

and the best certainly did not mean regulus arcturus bloody black with his pressed uniform and his too good for anyone attitude.

so yes— james had a right to sit three feet away in the library and "casually" read while glaring holes into the back of regulus’ head.

and yes, in his mind, he was fully justified in assembling backup— even if said backup consisted of the least discreet people in all of hogwarts.

sirius and remus were standing near the bookshelfs 'very subtly', and peter was 'casually' talking with ms. pince about the latest books in the library. together, they were absolutely certain they were invisible. even an eagle, they swore, wouldn’t catch them.

regulus— who obviously didn't identify as an eagle— whispered to you, without looking up from his book, "your brother's hiding behind the quidditch through the ages, holding it upside down, may i just add."

"and pete— bless his poor heart— has been listening to ms. pince go on about her love for books for fifteen minutes now. i think he hasn't blinked once."

"and my dear brother and lupin have been quiet for too long. i am suspecting they're snogging but that's just me."

you raised a brow, "the chances are more certain than we'd like believe."

regulus smiled as he looked back down at his book again. he tried to concentrate — he really did — but james, who kept glancing up every few seconds to spy on the two of you, was doing a fantastic job of ruining any hope of focus.

it wasn’t the first time james potter had been a distraction. it was, however, the first time regulus had to resist the overwhelming urge to laugh in his face about it.

so with a smirk, he exchanged a look with you and put his hand on your thigh, close enough to make james faint but far enough to keep it comfortable.

and the expected reaction came when james coughed so loudly ms. pince broke eye contact with peter and threw a dirty look at him.

"i think your brother may be dying," regulus chuckled. "should we call madam pomfrey?"

"no, he'll survive," you shrugged. "he deserves to choke a bit after spying on us."

right on cue, remus and sirius emerged behind the bookshelf and subtly walked by near you. they 'appeared' to be chatting but stopped as soon as they were close enough and gave a nervous chuckle simuntaneously when you made eye contact. "y/n, reg, we didn't expect to see you here."

"funny, cause i wasn't even aware you knew the way to the library, sirius." regulus raised a brow.

"i was just here to get...." he nervously looked around and grabbed the nearest book from the shelf, "... the copy of ancient runes."

"firstly, you're holding charms for charmers: impressing dates with magic and modesty, which i didn't think you had an issue with." you pointed out as regulus continued.

"and secondly, you dropped out of ancient runes two years ago."

"well, i am... revisiting." sirius stammered.

regulus tilted his head slightly. “you know, if you’re revisiting your studies, i’d be happy to tutor you.”

“in ancient runes?” sirius asked, suspicious.

“in subtlety,” regulus replied, deadpan.

"okay, enough. you both know, we know, james knows, peter knows and even ms. pince knows why we are here." remus started, rubbing his forhead as if having a migraine.

sirius opened his mouth.

“don’t,” remus cut in, not even looking at him. “you’re holding a book on magical flirting. the subtlety ship has sailed.”

regulus stifled a laugh and muttered. “and sunk.”

james taking the moment, barges over to the table, "alright, regulus keep your hand away from my sister, and y/n you're grounded."

"you can't ground me." you argued.

james put his hand on his heart, "yes, i can. i emotionally can."

"how does that even work?" you asked indecorously.

"it doesn't, so we're not doing it." remus interuppted. "y/n, regulus, we just want to ask you both, very calmly about what your intentions are with each other?"

"i'll take it from here, moony." sirius slid on the chair in front of you. "so, where were you the night of your first hogsmeade date?"

james, also slid next to sirius. "i told you he's not good for you."

"he didn't force you into anything, right?" sirius whispered to which you and regulus gave him a concerned (for him) look.

"he dresses up too nicely. that's suspicious."

"how often do you guys fight? is it more than how you guys kiss?"

"he wears a pressed tie, that's so weird."

"did you know he once kicked our family cat in the morning while walking down the stairs?"

"he once sat on a bug and didn't even apologize to it."

"he-" sirius continued but was stopped by you reaching over the table and holding them both by their ears. "ow ow ow ow! woman, are you crazy?"

"say that you won't speak a word until me and reg are done talking. say it!"

when they didn't budge, you pulled harder on their ears, "your sister is crazy!"

"she learnt it from mum. okay, okay, fine. we won't speak a word."

you eyed them suspiciously, "you promise?"

"we promise."

you released their ears hesitantly as you settled back into your seat. "okay, so obviously we're not going to answer your questions/accusations. but to calm your dumb minds, i'll just say that we're not just messing around. we love each other. we are in love."

"you are?" james asked as sirius looked as if he was half about to cry.

you and regulus looked at each other for a second as you smiled, "we are."

"oh my little sister and my.. regulus (?) i'm so happy for you too." james gushes as he nearly jumps over the table to hug you both. sirius on the other hand had a breakdown already with remus rushing over to comfort him, "they're in love. that's the sweetest thing i've ever heard."

"james, i can't breathe." you muffled out from between his very powerful hug.

james chuckled. "of course you can't silly. because regulus here stole your breathe."

"no, dummy. i genuinely can't breathe." you smacked his head. "i think you can call pete over now. that boy hasn't blinked for so long he's crying. but i think madam pince thinks it's because of her emotional book ending."

peter walked over a minute later with tearful eyes, "she wouldn't stop. she thought i related to the protaganist."

requested by ! anonymous

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur’s face didn’t change, watching the man across the desk. His pen didn’t move, even though there were a dozen things he wanted to note; the immediate decision of distrust, the reaction to medication as if it had too much heavy bias behind it. It likely did, Marc had made it clear that he didn’t like hospitals or care much for them; Arthur understood. 

His face didn’t change, however. “No,” he answered. “That’s not it.” 

His voice was low and gentle, not defensive or argumentative. “I don’t think you’re schizophrenic. I don’t think you’re broken. And I don’t want to take Steven away from you.” He didn’t want to take Steven away at all; integration would be something they could discuss later, but for now… 

“Marc, I’m sorry. I said it too soon — you’re right. This is a big thing. You trusted me with something that clearly means a lot to you, and I jumped ahead. I didn’t mean it like that, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He kept one hand raised, not defensive, but rather showing that he hadn’t meant to be a threat. Showing that he still wasn’t, with any luck. 

“I want to be clear. I’m not trying to medicate Steven out of you - I’m only trying to suggest. I have met with Steven only a few times, and I have noticed that these… panic attacks seem to be common. Frequent. Steven is in a very vulnerable position - you know that as well as I do. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s scared. And if something triggers him again…” Arthur shifted his jaw. “They would have sedated him, if I hadn’t been here. And I don’t want that for him.” 

He stared at Marc, the gentle kindness still in his eyes; looking over him carefully, quietly. 

“I just thought that if there was something that could take the edge off for Steven, then it was worth asking. I was only bringing it up to you, because you know best. If you tell me no, it’s a no - I will never make you take anything that you don’t want to take. But I wanted to ask for his sake.” 

He left it there, just watching the man; sitting back in his chair again, gently. “We won’t put you on medication. Nothing at all, not unless you say you want something. Alright?” 

Marc wonders if Harrow is even believing him, everything he's saying here; While Marc had hoped, even expected the other to do that, as he's a doctor and all of that, he's... suddenly not so sure anymore, for a reason he cannot quite grasp just yet. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the other doesn't prod as much - maybe it has to do with the fact that medication is brought up just like that, without wanting to know more before taking that route.

It finally prompts Marc to look up from that bottle, for a dark gaze to meet a much brighter one that looks straight back at him. Harrow almost appears... expectant, in a way, and Marc doesn't like that, not at all; Something within him shuts its doors immediately, causes thick brows to knit and a mouth to press into a thin line.

"...You don't believe me?" A question, but also a bit of a statement, perhaps. Maybe Marc's wrong with what he feels, with that vibe he's getting from the other there... but with how his chest suddenly feels a bit more heavy than before, a lump forming within his throat, he just cannot ignore that feeling. He swallows, licks his bottom lip, and gives the bottle between his hands a bit of a squeeze.

"---Or is it something else? The whole thing of you just... sitting there, asking me about whether I want to take some pills, just like that? ..Didn't you say yourself, mere moments ago, that Steven's not a bad thing?"

Suddenly starting to feel protective, Marc shifts a bit on his seat, straightens his spine. He blinks once, gaze firm, before he puts the bottle back down onto that desk in front of him, then folds his arms across his chest once more. He's cautious now, a bit wary, incredulous...

"You hear me talk about him, you want to give me pills. I opened up to you about--- about knowing of him, and you want to give me pills. I told you that I've heard the conversation you both had, and you want to give me pills?! ...The things you said to Steven, speaking about me, they sounded a lot more friendly and kind than I've ever expected you to be - hell, Steven even wrote me that letter you asked him to write me, hoping to make us both communicate. And now that I sit here, kicked my own ass to make myself thank you for being so nice to him... --- you want to give me pills? Set me on some kind of medication?!"

Fuck, Marc almost feels betrayed. It's not necessarily about the fact that these pills are, apparently, for depression and anxiety - but rather that he offers them so quickly, as if only having waited for this moment to happen so he could start to use some weird drug on him. No, Marc is not having that, not at all.

Teeth grind together behind closed lips, and Marc huffs out another breath - all of that previous vulnerability and softness gone, replaced by something hard, something hurt, something that regrets having spoken out in the first place. He should've kept Steven a secret, he should've tried to keep him back and away from now on. All he did was to bring them both into some kind of danger here...

"...Who knows, maybe those pills aren't even for the anxiety-bullshit. You think I'm shizophrenic, want me on some sedatives or whatever to keep me calm, take Steven away from me, yeah? Is that it?!" Okay, that one's a bit far-fetched, but... Marc cannot help himself. This is about Steven, after all, and Marc turns into a very feisty thing when someone is messing with that part of him.

[loveyouprongs]

bringing up baby part 2

remus lupin x whimsical fem!reader | Buttoned-up grad student Remus Lupin has the rare chance to work under one of the top scholars in the country. But his carefully laid plans keep getting derailed by the scholar's free-spirited whirlwind of a daughter who seems determined to unravel both his plans and his sanity.

upcoming content: fluff!! remus is overwhelmeddddd, sirius is a menace but we love him

authors note: part 2!! i’m going to try and stick to some sort of weekly schedule!! i hope you like it :)

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist | masterlist

tagging (pls lmk if you do or do not want to be tagged): @wrenisrad @daydreamandforget @jamesweather @oldhollywoodniall @shipwreckedlor

“You look amazing!!” Sirius sang from the couch, gasping exaggeratedly.

Remus stepped into the living room like a man heading toward a firing squad. “They look like they were painted on.”

“Oh stop it, that pair’s just got… integrity. The hug the soul!”

“They hug everything.” Remus yanked at the hem of the jeans, which refused to budge.

“Be grateful I had a pair without rips,” Sirius said, lounging dramatically, as if that alone made him a hero. “James offered you his Gryffindor pajama bottoms. You’re welcome.”

Remus gaped at him, causing James to snort. He always said Remus looked like a muppet when he made that face. “They’re not that bad,” he began, cut off by Remus.

“Me be grateful? You bleached every pair of slacks I own!

“Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t wash six bloody pairs of pants all at the same time!”

“I was being responsible!”

“Exactly, and I was helping. Whitened your whole wardrobe. I did you a favor.”

“You turned my trousers into Swiss cheese.”

“Stylish Swiss cheese.”

Remus took a long breath in through his nose. It wasn’t worth it. He had somewhere to be. His notes were in order, his satchel was packed, and the jeans—tight as they were—weren’t technically violating any academic dress code. Still, as he grabbed his coat and moved toward the door, he could feel Sirius’s grin behind him.

“Flaunt what Lyall gave you, moony! Sexy ankles!”

Even James, who tried his best to stay out of their spat, let out a barking laugh at that. His wheezing being the last thing Remus heard before he slammed the flat door behind him.

The halls at this hour were quiet, aside from the occasional shifting portrait or the distant wheeze of old pipes. Remus kept his strides purposeful, ignoring how the denim tugged uncomfortably every time he moved too quickly. He was not going to let a pair of Sirius Black’s tragically snug jeans ruin what was the first day of the rest of his professional life.

As he rounded the corner near the east wing stairwell, his right hand warming by the hot chocolate he picked up, he caught sight of Evan Rosier leaning against the banister like he was waiting to be painted. Evan looked up, made direct eye contact, and narrowed his eyes at him.

Remus didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just smiled politely and kept walking, chin up, shoulders back, hips doing far too much thanks to the jeans.

“Rosier,” Remus said coolly as he passed.

“Lupin,” Evan replied, all venom and vowels.

Remus didn’t look back, but he did allow himself the quiet satisfaction of imagining Evan’s expression the moment he found out Remus had been personally invited to assist Professor Binns on the most prestigious archival project in the department. A small, smug voice inside him whispered, Suck it, Evan, and Remus didn’t even feel bad about it.

He reached the old brass-handled door of the History of Magic offices and paused to smooth down his coat and push a curl out of his eyes. This was it. First impressions and all that. Deep breath. No biting. No declarations. No-

The door creaked open before he could knock.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” Binns said, appearing with a towering pile of papers in his hands. “Right on time. Come in.”

Remus quickly gathered the papers from his hands, shutting the door behind him with his foot, immediately regretting it when he saw Binns’ eyes linger on his much too high pant hem.

“Thank you, thank you.”

The office was larger than Remus expected, lined with mismatched shelves, floating document cubes, and at least three clocks that each showed a different time. It smelled like ink, old spell parchment, and something slightly singed. Remus’d barely slept, too busy rereading Binns’ lesser-known essays and cross-referencing archival theory. He was ready.

Professor Binns didn’t bother with a greeting. “These are your primary subjects,” he said, waving a hand toward the rows of cabinets like he was gesturing at a herd of semi-domesticated beasts.

Remus, trying to look intelligent, adjusted his satchel. “Of course. Very… thorough setup.”

“They’re organized by usefulness, age, temper, and, on occasion, scent. You'll pick it up.”

“I- yes. Obviously.” Remus nodded quickly, pretending that made sense. “What’s the… um… temperament of that one?” he asked, pointing to a cabinet that let out a low groan and rattled ominously.

“Likes riddles,” Binns said. “Hates sarcasm.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Right.”

“That drawer there,” Binns continued, pointing to one with scorch marks on its face, “ate a student’s sleeve last term. Don’t feed it after sundown.”

Remus gave a weak chuckle, just in case it was a joke. It did not seem to be a joke.

“Cabinets six through twelve have been known to reshuffle themselves out of spite. Keep your wand on you.”

“Absolutely,” Remus said, trying not to look like he was already reconsidering his life choices. “And, uh, should I use a specific spell for sorting, or…?”

“Oh no,” Binns said, already halfway out the door. “They don’t respond well to structure. Try... small talk.”

“Small talk,” Remus repeated blankly.

“Exactly, Mr. Lupin. I’ll leave you to it!” Binns began, and Remus could only nod shakily.

With one foot out the door, Binns turned around and looked Remus up and down, “I really am glad you’re here, Remus, I know you’ll do great things and help me immensely.” And with a nod, he disappeared into the hall, leaving Remus standing alone in his office, feeling completely out of his depth.

One cabinet rolled open an inch and hissed.

He slowly opened his notebook and wrote: “Ask Binns if this is a prank.”

Then, after a pause, he underlined it. Twice.

Still- he’d asked for this. He was chosen for this. He had a job to do, Binns believed in him.

Remus squared his shoulders, took one brave step forward, and said, “So... who’s in charge here?”

A file folder flew across the room and hit him in the face.

Remus blinked. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”

Your boots clicked softly against the stone floor, baby blue tights peeking out from beneath a dark plaid skirt that swished with every step. A lacy white blouse buttoned all the way to the throat made you feel properly academic, though the heart-shaped tote bag slung over your shoulder, currently overstuffed with annotated anthologies, a dog-eared romance novel, and a suspiciously squished chocolate frog, undermined the effect a bit.

You liked reading in your father’s office. It was quiet. Peaceful. Predictable in its chaos. The same could not be said for your room, where the nargles had been stealing your bookmarks again. Possibly your socks too. Last week, you’d set down your copy of Runes and Romanticism for all of seven seconds and returned to find it upside down, missing page 241, and inexplicably humming.

So, no. Your father’s office was safer. For the books, at least.

You turned the corner, humming a little yourself, and were just about to knock when you heard something crash from the other side of the door.

“…I swear if one of you bites me again,.,” came a voice, tight with panic and mild despair.

You paused, lips parting in delighted curiosity. Slowly, carefully, you pressed your ear to the door.

“Who’s in charge here?” the voice asked, Remus Lupin’s voice, you realized, right before a loud thwap echoed and he muttered, “Cool. Perfect. Great.”

Remus. Your grin widened. You pressed a little harder against the door, trying to catch more. Behind you, a passing professor did a double take. Then, recognizing you, wisely kept walking.

They’d learned by now. You were just… like this.

With a giggle building up behind your tongue, and heat rising to your cheeks at seeing poor Mr. Lupin again, you carefully turned the knob and stepped inside, Remus none the wiser.

He was on his knees in the middle of the office, trying (and failing) to subdue a particularly unruly book. The thing kept snapping open and shut, flapping its covers like wings, and every time he reached for it, it clamped down on his fingers with a disgruntled thwap! He flinched each time, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like an apology and possibly also a threat.

His sandy hair was a bit mussed, as if he’d ran his hand through it too many times, his long legs were pretzeled beneath him, and he looked vaguely betrayed by the entire concept of paper.

You leaned lightly against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold.

“Now now, Glossary of British Battlefield Curses,” you scolded, hands on your hips like a disappointed nanny. “Is that how we treat our friends?”

Remus looked up from the chaos monster in front of him to you, who was now peering down at the book like it was a rogue puppy in need of some serious training.

Oh. It was you.

Remus felt a stinging behind his eyes at the sight of you, like the universe had found yet another way to overwhelm him. First, Sirius’s skin-tight jeans. Then, he made an absolute mess of his boss’ office. And now the girl who made him dizzy by just existing was hovering over him while he sat on the floor like a child.

“How could you treat Mr. Lupin so poorly, that’s not very nice at all,” you continued.

The book paused mid-flutter, almost sheepish.

You smiled, crossing the room with a sigh and kneeling beside him, scooping the book up. “She’s moody in the mornings. You have to compliment her footnotes first.”

Remus blinked. “You’re joking.”

You didn’t answer, just patted the book twice, set it gently on the shelf, and turned back to him with a smile as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“That’s the spirit,” you said brightly, hopping up beside him and surveying the scene like a proud curator of chaos. “Now then, let’s see what sort of mess you’ve made.”

“I, excuse me, I didn’t make a mess,” Remus said, affronted, gesturing to the stacks like they might rise to his defense. “They refuse to stay put. It’s impossible to get them in any kind of order, which is ridiculous considering they’re books. Not exactly famous for their socializing.”

You rolled your eyes with all the drama of a girl who had long given up expecting anyone else to understand. “Oh please, you should see the Transfiguration folios when they’ve had a row. Complete nightmare.”

Before he could process that, you were already flitting to the desk, humming a little under your breath as you leaned over a particular cluster of books and began murmuring sweet nothings to the hardcovers.

Remus scrambled up, waving a hand. “No, no, not those, please, that’s the only section I actually had in order.”

“Oh dear,” you muttered, tilting your head at a stack of books that looked suspiciously smug. “I fear you were fooled, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Fooled by…?”

You took a dainty step toward the shelf, tucked your tote bag on top of a stack, and said gently, as if speaking to small children, “Alright, dears. That’s enough now. Jackets on correctly, please. We’ve got a guest.”

At once, several books gave a disgruntled rustle and started shimmering. Their covers shifted—fonts realigning, images reprinting, colors swirling until what had once been Hogwarts: A History now clearly read The Warlock’s Guide to Ale-Based Hexes.

Remus stared, open-mouthed.

“What the-”

“Well,” you said, tsking at a particularly vain volume trying to keep its floral binding, “can you blame them? I’d want a new outfit every now and then, too.”

"They're very fashion-forward you know, in this office. Not like those snobs in Divination, always the same dusty sleeves. Boring.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I studied for this job. I trained. I prepared. I laminated tabs.”

“And how charmingly futile that turned out to be,” you said, breezing past him to pluck a stack of misbehaving papers off the desk. “Honestly, they can sense desperation. It’s like blood in the water.”

He followed your path with a sort of polite, exhausted horror. “You talk about them like they’re… alive.”

“Remus! Don’t say that too loudly. They get self-conscious.” You gave him a very serious look, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed and amidst the unbelievable past two hours, Remus couldn’t help but laugh, which only seemed to upset you more.

“I’m serious! I just got them to like you and you’re going to mess it all up!”

Remus could only laugh some more, going from quiet chuckles to restless, almost maniacal laughter. Your lips parted at the sight before you, watching his shoulders shake and eyes form crescent moons as he flopped down on the small couch against the wall.

“Remus, what’s the matter with you!” You asked, rather liking this version of him before you.

“You look like Paddington Bear!” He giggled.

“Wha?” You began, looking down at your outfit, “...how?”

Remus then mocked the serious look you gave him earlier, his eyes becoming slits and his mouth pouted upset, “You were giving me the Paddington Bear Hard Stare!”

“And.. and the books were listening to you, and they were biting at me, and… none of this is making any sense.” He sighed and you moved to sit next to him, ignoring the urge to press your skirt against the denim. Where did that come from anyway?

You turned toward him on the couch, folding your legs beneath you, expression all amusement and sympathy. “It’s a lot, I know.”

Remus gave a hollow laugh. “A lot is a generous term. I feel like I’ve fallen into some… whimsical alternate universe where books have personal vendettas.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, that’s not far off. But you’ll get it.”

“I really don’t think I will,” he muttered, rubbing at his temples. “You’re talking about them like they have personalities.”

“They do,” you said brightly, like this should’ve been obvious. “That one’s a drama queen, that one lies constantly about its contents, and that one,” you pointed behind you, “thinks it’s a journal and will try to record everything you say out loud.”

Remus blinked. “Why?”

“No one knows,” you whispered, wide-eyed. “We tried to ask once, but then it started quoting me back in iambic pentameter.”

He stared at you, trying to decipher if you were joking. He decided he didn’t want to know.

When he didn’t respond, you sat up straighter. “Alright, come on. We’ll do it together.”

“What? No, wait—do what together?”

You were already standing, brushing off invisible dust from your skirt. “Restore some kind of order to this place. Surely you can’t leave my father’s office like this.”

That made him freeze.

“Oh god,” he whispered, looking around at the battlefield of scattered pages, fluttering books, and slightly dented furniture. “Your father.”

“Exactly.” You offered him your hand like you were inviting him onto a rollercoaster.

He sighed, but took it. “This is emotional manipulation.”

You just smiled. “It’s archival collaboration.”

He let you pull him to his feet. “If I die, tell James and Sirius I want ‘attacked by knowledge’ on my tombstone,” he muttered to himself and you took note to ask him who they were later.

You led him toward the far left wall of shelves, pausing in front of a particularly lumpy set of tomes. “Alright,” you said. “We’ll start simple. This row is mostly biographies. They’re snobs. Speak clearly and no abbreviations.”

Remus furrowed his brow. “I… okay?”

“Try asking it to alphabetize.”

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “Would you… please sort yourselves alphabetically by author?”

There was a pause. Then the books began shifting, shuffling their spines like a chorus line.

Remus jumped. “Holy sh-”

“Language,” you teased, nudging his side.

He huffed, but he was smiling.

You moved to the next wall, explaining which books needed to be stacked upside down, which liked being wrapped in ribbons, and which ones were still recovering from a minor fire.

Remus tried to take mental notes, but your voice was warm and distracting and you moved through the space like you belonged in it. And, against all logic, it was starting to make sense.

Eventually, you turned to him with your hands on your hips. “Pop quiz! What do you do with this one?”

You gestured to a short, squat book with a velvet cover and an unsettling glint in its title font.

Remus hesitated. “Compliment its… index?”

The book purred.

You clapped your hands. “Good job, Remus!”

He blinked, startled by the praise—and maybe by how nice it felt. His ears went pink.

Your smile widened. “See? You’re a natural.”

He looked down at the smug little volume that had nearly bitten his ankle earlier, then back at you. “You know,” he said quietly, “this is the weirdest help I’ve ever received… but probably the most useful.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Was that an attempt at being charming?”

“Maybe.”

You grinned.

But before you could reply, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Both your heads turned.

“…Do you think it’s Professor Binns?” Remus whispered, already moving to fix his hair.

You tilted your head, listening intently. “No, that’s not him. My dad’s knock is more like… tap tap pause THUMP, like a galloping librarian.”

Remus blinked. “A what?”

“A galloping librarian. You know, all dignity until the third beat, and then chaos.”

Remus could only roll his eyes, standing to straighten his collar. “Right. Of course. Silly me.”

The knock came again, followed by a high-pitched, “Hello, is Professor Lupin there?”

Remus felt his stomach sink for the millionth time that day, immediately recognizing it as the door creaked open, revealing Sirius in all his glory.

“Special delivery!” he declared. “One freshly humbled academic and three brand new pairs of slacks.”

Remus stared at him, red-faced. “Sirius, what are you—”

“I felt bad!” Sirius cut in, breezing past a stack of floating parchments like they didn’t exist. “Figured I’d show up with a peace offering before you swore a vendetta against me and my jeans, which I want back by the way so, chop chop!”

“You brought me trousers.”

“Yes, and a blueberry scone. But I ate that on the way here.”

Remus rubbed his eyes. “This is mortifying.”

“You’re welcome.”

You watched the entire exchange with a kind of delighted confusion, eyes flitting between the two of them. “Remus,” you said slowly, “are those not your jeans?”

Remus groaned, but Sirius stepped in like this was his stage. “Oh no. Remus never wears anything with style. Half his closet still has his mum’s department store tags on it.”

“She knows what I like,” Remus mumbled defensively.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Exactly. The boy’s allergic to flair.”

You tilted your head, considering. “I did think the jeans seemed a little… uncharacteristic. But I wasn’t sure if this was some sort of” you gestured loosely, trying to find the words, “some kind of statement? Like, ‘watch out world, I have ankles and I’m not afraid to use them.’?”

Remus watched as Sirius’ grin split his face, “YES! That’s exactly what I said before he left the house, love, sexy ankles!”

You nodded heavily, “Sexy ankles indeed!”

“Oh my God,” Remus groaned.

“Sirius let out a bark of laughter that nearly knocked over a tower of journals. “Oh, I like you.”

He stepped forward, offering a hand. “Sirius Black!”

You shook his hand, smiling. “Pleasure. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling. “You’re the mystery girl who bit Remus!”

“I did do that,” you agreed.

Remus, who had wilted into a nearby chair, groaned again. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Believe it, darling,” Sirius grinned. “Now please go change so I can have my trousers back.”

You looked over at Remus thoughtfully. “They do look like they were trying to pick a fight with your thighs.”

You glanced at the stack of slacks in Sirius’s arms and then back at Remus, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Well,” you said, brushing imaginary dust from your skirt, “I’ll give you two some privacy. It was lovely meeting you, Sirius.”

Sirius gave a half-bow. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Binns.”

You turned to Remus, who was still half-collapsed in his chair, and leaned in for a hug. He stiffened like a board.

You paused, lips twitching. “Relax, it’s just a hug. I’m not going to bite you…”

Remus blinked at you.

“…this time,” you added with a wink, and bit your teeth at him.

He made a strange sputtering noise as you pulled back, your laughter dancing in the air.

With a final pat to his shoulder, you turned toward the door. “Be good, books!” you called brightly to the shelves. A few rustled in what might have been acknowledgement.

And then you were gone, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft click.

Remus let out a long exhale and stood up, grabbing the slacks and retreating to the tiny ensuite loo. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sirius called out, “Mate. She’s fit.”

From behind the door: a loud thump. “Sirius!”

“What?” Sirius said innocently. “I’m just saying. Funny, too. And clearly into books. It’s like your dream girl.”

“No, she’s not,” Remus said eventually, voice too fast, too defensive.

Sirius grinned. “Mmhm.”

“Books and jokes don’t make someone my— What does that even mean, dream girl, that’s not even— You’re being ridiculous.”

“Right,” Sirius said. “Totally ridiculous.”

“She bit me.”

“You liked it.”

“I did not!”

The bathroom door opened with a huff and a very pink-faced Remus who, now dressed in proper slacks, looked more like himself but somehow even more flustered.

Remus busied himself with folding the jeans, trying very hard not to look like he was thinking about anything at all. “She can be a right bother, you know that?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Remus sighed, “Still. She… did pull my ass out of the fire earlier.”

“I’m just saying,” Remus mumbled, cheeks still pink, “she knows her father’s office, that’s all.”

“Sure, that’s all,”

Remus scowled. “Can we please focus on anything else?”

Sirius smirked, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Sure. But just so we’re clear—I’m onto you.”

Remus threw a rolled-up pair of jeans at his head. “She bit me, Sirius.”

Sirius caught them with one hand, still grinning. “And yet you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!”

“You’re kind of smiling.”

Remus immediately stopped.

“Oh, Moony, my melodramatic friend.” Sirius stood, slung the jeans over his shoulder, and made his way to the door. “Try not to shut the world out before it even says hello.”

Remus didn’t answer. Just gave a half-hearted glare as the door clicked shut behind him.

The quiet returned, and with it, the strange little symphony of rustling parchment and the occasional content sigh from a shelf. Remus rolled up his sleeves.

He got to work.

It took time, more coaxing than commanding—but the files began to shift, the cabinets responded, the scrolls uncurled with something almost like trust. And somewhere between reorganizing the seventeenth-century scandal archives and negotiating peace with the index cards of ‘62, the chaos began to make sense.

By late afternoon, the room looked—well, not perfect. But like someone had listened to it.

And if, now and then, he found himself smiling at the sound of his own voice echoing yours… well.

That was no one’s business but his.

<- part one

[luvescore]

if you take req could you do an Anton aftercare Drabble hehehehhee like after you both had hard sex (with him cumming inside) just smth cute to unwind, clean up and love each other hehe (maybe he carries you into the shower and bathes you and helps you with skincare/ couple face masks and dressing each other in pjs)

ANTON! ୨ৎ HAPPIEST WITH YOU

── .✦ boyfriend!anton x fem. reader

synopsis. you’ve finally had the chance to have rougher sex with anton and the results? best sex ever. how well does he take care of you afterwards? & just how much care does he put into you after a few long hours?

smut! | dirty talk, rough but sweet anton, & fluff.

a/n: hi cutie! requests are open! so everyone can come in and ask what they want. not only requests but any sort of question you have it can be talked about! thank you for requesting. I hope you can enjoy this. muah!!!

anton’s large body slowly leaned down against your own, his panting and groaning now in your ear probably the best sounds you’ve ever heard. your hands reach up his toned back and grab ahold of his long sweaty locks that sat against his neck, gently pulling making him whine out even louder. “f-fuck baby.. clenching around me so good. gonna make me cum.” his thick lips pressed a single kiss to your lips before letting his head fall into your neck again, placing a few wet kisses down your neck and teasingly biting at the skin like he always did. it wasn’t enough though. you needed much harder. faster. he could tell. he brought his large hand up from the grip he had on your waist and wrapped it around your neck, pushing you further into the bed.

anton took the opportunity to push your legs open even wider now able to hit a spot that made you cry out in pain and pleasure. pain from his large size but it wasn’t enough to hurt you. “right there, hm? hitting the spot right there baby?” you nodded. so desperate to cum after a few hours of him not allowing you too. his pace quickened and his hand tightened around your neck until you seen a few black specks. he knew you were close to falling so he let go watching how you gasped for air. “fuck.” he cursed at the sight of it.

“toni! please..” each thrust was pushing you to the edge and your body shook violently. “shhh. it’s alright sweet girl. almost there.” usually he’d slow down, his own thrusts growing weak as he got closer and closer to his release but he didn’t. no stopping. no slowing down. just kept going, hitting that same spot that was making you see double. “yes. oh fuck.. right there. gonna cum inside you okay? please? so fucking warm and tight.” at this point you didn’t care what he did, all you wanted was to cum yourself. anton’s moans grew louder and louder as a warm sensation filled you up, his large hands reaching to possessively grab ahold of your boobs. leaning down and rubbing his face against them as his thrusts slowed. “fuck I came so much. my legs are shaking.” a quiet and small giggle left your lips not even having energy to laugh and say something back to him. anton looked at you with such love and adoration, hands brushing the damp hair out of your face. you were his pretty girl. only his and he couldn’t believe it.

“you did so good baby.” he whispered and kissed your face gently a few times before pushing the covers away from you both, not wanting you to overheat. “my good little girl. did so good for me. you okay? let toni take care of his girl.” you didn’t say anything once again, just nodded and allowed him to do what he wanted and needed with you. after slowly pulling out of you your legs closed immediately and the empty feeling made you shiver, wanting him in you again. “it’s okay baby.” is all he said before getting up from the bed and picking you up with such ease. his strength showing more than ever even after hours of rough sex. “toni’s got his girl.”

he sat you on the counter, allowing your body to rest against the wall as he got the shower ready. just at the right temp that you liked it. anton ran around the room and bathroom getting things prepared for you it.. made you feel so special. a few tears running down your warm cheeks and when he took notice, a gasp left him. scared that he had hurt you but it was far from being or feeling hurt. your arms wrapped around his neck the moment he came to check on you and his face buried in the crook of your neck, “thank you toni.. such a good man to me. I love you so much.” he felt his heartbeat quicken and a soft, “I love you more.” was whispered in your ear before he placed a kiss to your neck. picking you right back up he carried you into the warm shower, the warm water hitting all the aches and pains from how rough he had been. “feels so nice.” you whispered but anton only cared about cleaning you up. starting with your hair and going down the rest of your body while placing soft kisses each time. your heart fluttered at the small but sweet actions. gripping onto his broad shoulders for support and leaning up to kiss his lips.

anton dried you, got you dressed in the matching pjs he had bought for you both a few months back and even helped moisturize your face after the warm shower. all of this was.. new. something you’ve never witnessed before. it was only a year into your relationship with him and this was the second time you’ve had sex. this time being much different but much better than the first time. which was okay. the both of you had to find each others likes and what you were most comfortable or uncomfortable with. anton took his time with you and never forced sex which was again, new to you. no man has ever treated you this well before. it almost felt like he was your soulmate.

“baby?” your eyes widened. anton was talking the whole time you had been trapped in your own thoughts. “sorry toni.. was thinking.” he chuckled at your cuteness, rinsing his hands off and picking you back up off the counter. his strong arms held onto you in such a perfect way as if you were made for him. “I wasn’t saying anything important. just talking about taking you shopping to get more moisturizers. get one for me as well! one that doesn’t cause a breakout..” anton could sit for hours and talk with you. which he did and it was something you’d never get bored of.

at this point, you were laying against his warm and bare chest. listening to the calmness of his heartbeat. his arm wrapped around you keeping you close to him, turning his head to glance down at you a few times as you spoke about whatever it was. “I love you.” anton interrupted you, causing your head to snap up and give him a cute little smile. you crawled on top of him and leaned down to kiss his lips several times, “I love you more toni.” pushing his long and semi wet locks back so you could see his perfect face, tracing his features.

[queenofshenanigans]

idk have some human!eddie getting hunted by centaur!steve ig.

cw: monsterfucker!eddie, even though there's no actual fucking on page. i had to go back to work before i got there. mature rating. dubcon due to the situation.

this is for @strangerthingswritersguild they know what they did

WC: 700ish words

Eddie was running, over roots and vines, through branches that grabbed at his cloak and hair. The forest made his escape as difficult as possible, wanting to keep him, claim another victim. He could hear the rustle of the leaves. They waited for him to stumble off the path that narrowing as he ran through the trees.

He should have listened to Uncle Wayne, and stuck to the Royal Road. The Old Forest was alive, not only with foxes and squirrels, but with magic, monsters. And it wanted him. He could feel the branches extend past the path's boundaries, and it took every ounce of dexterity he possessed to dodge their grasping fingers. The leaves rustled around him, the sound like millions of tiny little laughs echoing in his mind as he kept running.

Something large was behind him, just off the path, moving through the trees quickly but not silently. It was had no need of stealth; it didn't care that Eddie knew he was being hunted. He needed to push on for a few minutes more; the edge of the forest was close, he knew it must be. If it wasn't—he didn't let himself finish that thought. He ignored the pain his legs, in his chest, and ran on. And on.

And on.

The creature kept pace behind him, close enough Eddie could hear it's growls, feel it's heavy breath. The trees kept trying to stop him, capture him. The leaves kept laughing.

He stumbled, something coming up out of the path, and his momentum was too great. He crashed to his knees, twisting at the last moment to land flat on his back, all breath knocked out him. Pain blossomed and he knew it was over.

As if the leaves knew it too, they silenced. The trees drew back from the path, one branch dragging lightly along Eddie's cheek, leaving a slim cut that dripped blood down his cheek.

The forest had won.

Eddie blinked sweat from his eyes, dragged in a breath through lungs that didn't want to work, and realized that though the leaves had silenced and the trees had retreated, the creature hunting him had not.

The centaur stood above him, its powerful body a deep, chestnut roan pattern. His chest was broad, and covered with hair, powerful muscles glistening with the sweat of the pursuit. The trees, having withdrawn from the path, had left room for the moon to stream down between the branches and the human torso glittered with constellations of freckles, golden even in the silver of moonlight. Eddie's eyes found the centaur's face, and all thought left his mind.

He was beautiful. The monster that was going to kill him was beautiful.

"You are trespassing, human," the centaur said, taking two steps forward so he was standing directly over Eddie now, making escape impossible. "Travel through this forest is forbidden for your kind."

Eddie swallowed, eyes drawn down the centaur's body without his permission. He'd always been a curious child, and if he was going to die he might as well get an answer to a question he'd had for a long time.

"I mean no harm," he managed to say, though it was difficult. The centaur's cock was larger than any he'd seen, even flaccid. It didn't look human, but neither was it like any horse's cock he'd seen on the farm during mating season. It was…otherwordly, and even knowing he was going to die, Eddie felt his pants begin to tighten. "I merely wished to get home as quickly as I could, and this was the best path."

The centaur studied him, eyes raking down Eddie's form, resting for a moment on his crotch, then back to his face. His expression had changed to one of amusement. The abrupt switch was jarring.

"Maybe we could come to some kind of agreement," the centaur said. "A toll, for your trespassing."

Eddie blinked up at him, confused. Was he—yes, he realized. The centaur was propositioning him. Offering him his life in exchange for—well, he'd fucked people for less important things, he decided. And this centaur was really hot.

"Yeah. All right. You fuck me, then I get to go home. Seems like a good deal."

The centaur grinned, and leaned down so that his face was inches from Eddies. "Deal." He drew back suddenly, and pulled Eddie up and over his shoulder in one smooth move, fast enough that Eddie didn't even realize they were moving through the forest at an inhuman pace until they were already far from the forest edge, back the way he'd come.

Well, he thought as he relaxed into the centaur's hold, if he was lucky there would be an entirely different type of cumming in his future.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Well, I suppose variety is the spice of life," Bill said, "But we'll have to see if we happen to spot one in the wild."

Bill had no idea how Erica was going to make that kind of distinction. They looked like regular people after all, but maybe Erica had some kind of method.

Russell couldn't help smile on hearing Lucien laugh. It was one of the best sounds in the world, especially right now.

"I should have done the same with Lewis when I had the chance," Simon said, "But I am just glad I am trying to build something back up with my other brothers before it could have been too late. I've not been appreciating them as much as I should have been."

"Ah, don't sweat it, Simon," Travis said, "It wasn't really easy to be honest. I think we were all a bit guilty of distancing each ourselves from each other."

But now that could change.

If Antonio had been around to hear Erica's comment, he might have just chuckled and made a joke about to stop making him feel old. Only his sisters could joke about that.

"Yeah, good idea," Travis said, "Sometimes you have to do questionable things if it means less problems for everyone in the long term."

He did pick up some of the books, just in case Rook might have found them useful or even fun to read. Russell looked over to where Lucien was gesturing, and after a moment, he realised just what he was getting, and took the crowbar in his hand once more. One of the things that had been used to make so many concoctions to hurt others. It had to go.

"Let's, let's do it," Russell said, giving Lucien a nod.

Bill still kept some tentacles around Rook even after they finished their ascent, just so Rook would know even if she lost her footing, he would catch her.

But then Rook's statement brought him out of his thoughts, and then he gave Bill a little nod.

"Go ahead, Rook," Bill said. It seemed that he knew that this was a time to be serious, "I'm all ears, and remember, it's okay to take your time if you need to."

It appeared that Antonio standing Frosty up and taking off the gas mask had allowed Leofric to also take a better look at the kid as well.

"I can smell that on him too," Leofric said, some mild sympathy in his voice, "Five really did see him as nothing more than some kind of chess pawn, and that is a good idea. We should take him somewhere safe to rest before we follow through with the promise I made to Erica. I can provide some extra concoctions as well, in case they might be necessary."

Antonio nodded, then reached over to gently take the gas mask off entirely.

"I think we can appreciate the scent as well," Antonio agreed. He frowned at Frosty's statement, "We can discuss that later. Right now, you need to get some rest. You will be looked after."

And if Frosty tried to refuse, Antonio had the thought that he could probably use his powers to convince Frosty that it was the best thing to do right now.

"Yes! And maybe a telemarketer too!"

Willow decided not to question how Erica planned to recognize such a person in the wild. It was always wise not to get in the way of her vengeful plots.

"Well, I must treasure the experiences of my older siblings." Willow replied, before adding, "Or that of a twin."

It was nice to hear Simon speak fondly of Truman. The brothers trying to get along was especially heartwarming, considering the horrid adults they had to live with while growing up. Willow hoped the future would keep looking up for all of them.

Her train of thought was disturbed by Lucien's laugh when he was hugged again. She really couldn't recall him ever being that happy. But with someone like Russell as a partner, it wasn't surprising.

"You are forgiven." Lucien replied softly, "Let's go commit some property damage."

"We could do that! I missed out on a lot of movies, so it shouldn't be hard to pick one." Erica smiled as the crane started sinking into the abyss, "Well, I guess we'll just have to find the keys. I really hope it wasn't in his pockets though."

"It wouldn't be such a loss. Red muscle cars are statically a sign of the early onset of midlife crisis." Willow noted, following after Erica.

"Does it mean we should repaint it before we let Antonio drive it?"

"We should do so regardless." Willow replied, "Then I will fabricate the necessary documents."

While this hideout wasn't as organized as the previous one, there was still enough equipment lying around to confirm that Five and his thugs had been camping out there for a while. Other than his car, his brewing kit had been left behind, along with a modest collection of books. Some tomes were rather old, while others were most recent editions.

Either way, none of it really caught Erica's attention, who was more fond of shiny things. Lucien, on the other hand, knew where to start from with his task.

"I just know where we should start from." he said, while pointing at the kit. That accursed brewery of horrors had to go.

Rook made sure to hold on tight as well as they ascended. Without the adrenaline and the heat of the fight keeping her distracted, she was suddenly awfully aware of how high up they were.

The task at hand was simple enough, though. So she felt like that was a good time for a chat. "Hey, Bill. There's something I'd like to talk about..."

Frosty stopped his pitiful escape when he heard voices around him. He let out an annoyed grunt when he was grabbed, but otherwise didn't have enough fight left in him to make himself a problem. Not when he couldn't even stand upright without the room spinning around him.

Veronica's eyes turned red and she immediately took note of the ice mage's paleness, along with his rather absent look. Frosty was awake, but he was likely experiencing a major case of brain fog. They'd have to be gentle with him. Even the slightest stress could aggravate his conditions.

"Well, he mainly needs to rest, but I'd rather keep an eye on him for a few hours. There is no telling how his body will recoil from Five's drugs and the draining." the ghost lady said, before spraying Frosty with a potion that vaguely smelled like rosemary and thyme, "This is just to make him safe to handle, in case the snake's poison has some delayed effects we don't know about."

Frosty only briefly raised his head for a moment, mumbling a complain before he finally found his words. "...not going home. They don't want me."

[lotusflqwer]

Heat of the Moment

a/n: I kept forgetting to post this on here BUT FINALLY i remembered. DPax SMUT so 18+ yall know the drill. This was inspired by a nsfw fanart I saw on Twitter by chessepapitas and the idea wouldn’t leave my head.

Summary: D-16 doesn't know why Orion Pax is ignoring him until he finds out the hard way.

CW/tags: NSFW!!!, aphrodisiacs, sticky sexual interfacing, dubious consent (I think?? Lmk), bottom Orion Pax, Top D-16, semi-public sex, spike oral, valve fingering, masturbation

Word count: 2.1k

Orion had been acting…skittish.

He seemed to be acting off the whole day.

Orion didn’t talk much in the mines, he was actually well behaved, and, most strangely of all, he kept avoiding D-16. Anytime their optics met, Orion would quickly turn his helm the other way. It was frustrating D-16. Why was his best friend ignoring him?

D-16 walked through the streets of Iacon. He figured a walk would help him feel better…a lonely walk. D-16 sighed at the thought. He didn’t like being alone and with Orion avoiding him, he felt like he had no one.

Dusk slowly fell over the city. Various types of shops lined the street. The buzz of bots getting out of work was beginning to die down. Everyone was either running errands or going home. D-16 was kicking a round rock along the sidewalk as he roamed about.

D-16 looked up and spotted a familiar red and blue paint job. Orion was running down the sidewalk, frantically checking each of the stores’ windows. He must be looking for something important.

D-16 thought this was the perfect time to confront him. Maybe once they talked, he could help Orion look for whatever he’s looking for. D-16 steeled himself and marched towards Orion.

Orion hadn’t noticed D-16 was behind him. He was carefully looking through the store’s supplies through the window. D-16 cleared his intake, making Orion jump.

“Hey, Pax…uh…I was—“

Orion quickly fled the scene. He didn’t make it far before D-16 grabbed his wrist.

“Pax?! Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you avoiding me?” D-16 questioned. Orion’s metal plating was hot under his servo. Too hot. D-16 tried not to let go. He was determined to get to the bottom of this and fix whatever he had done to make Orion ignore him.

“Dee— just-just let me go, alright?” Orion tried to pull himself away from D-16’s grip, but it was too strong.

“At least tell me what I did so I can fix it!” D-16 said firmly.

“You didn’t do anything,” Orion swallowed, “I need-I need you to let me go!”

D-16 didn’t want to let go, but Orion’s plating was burning the sensors of his servo. He released his grip, cradling his servo as he saw Orion dash into an alleyway. D-16 quickly made his way over.

The sky was beginning to darken. Colorful hologram signs were beginning to turn on, their lights illuminating the street. D-16 peeked into the alleyway. It was dark, but he saw the blue shine of Orion’s optics. He was sitting down further into the alley, his chassis heaving as he gasped.

D-16 slowly walked to Orion. He choked when he saw Orion’s valve panel was removed and his digits were plunging deep inside himself. The sound of his cooling fans on full blast filled D-16’s audials.

“Pax what are you doing?! Here?!” D-16 stumbled back. He needed to look away, he must look away, but his optics were glued to Orion’s pretty valve.

“Oh Dee…I ate something I shouldn’t have. An appo-um…aphro-uhh…oh whatever! And now…now your touch amplified this feeling I’ve had all day,” Orion whined, his digits not stopping. He rested his helm back against the wall with his back arched. Drool trailed down his chin and coolant gathered in the corner of his optics.

D-16 was frozen. Not only by the lewd sight, but also from Orion’s words. Of course he ate an aphrodisiac! It’s not surprising Orion made another stupid decision.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring me all day?” D-16 asked slowly. He could feel his spike panel getting tight. Orion nodded.

“Just looking at you made the heat worse and…I didn’t want to do something I’d regret,” Orion gasped, his digits hit his interior node.

“Something you’d…regret?” D-16 was drawn to the wet squelches from Orion’s valve.

“I value our friendship and I didnt—ngh—I’m afraid I’ll force you to help me! I don’t want that!” Orion was panting with his optic ridges knit in concentration. His digits started to slow down.

“Y-You could’ve told me! We could’ve figured something out earlier!” D-16 reasoned with his servos gesturing wildly.

Suddenly, Orion leaned forward and started to slowly crawl towards D-16. D-16 backed up until his back hit the wall behind him. Orion’s servos latched onto his pedes as if they were magnetized.

“Leave! before I—mmng,” Orion couldn’t finish his sentence and started licking long stripes along the side of D-16’s leg, just below his knee. D-16 could feel the heat radiating from Orion’s frame.

This must be a dream. Another filthy dream D-16’s processor cooked up because this was too good to be true. D-16 had always wondered, daydreamed really, how Orion would look like this: desperate and needy. No way this was real.

Orion’s glossa trailed up to D-16’s inner thigh, his servos pawing at D-16’s interface panels. Okay…maybe this wasn’t a dream.

“Deeee,” Orion pleaded, “Dee, I need youuuu…please help me.” Orion rubbed his helm on D-16’s thigh. The coolness of his best friend’s frame was the only relief Orion had felt since the day started. Short hot pants escaped from his mouth and fogged D-16’s silver metal plates.

D-16 let out a shaky exvent and tore his gaze away. He started to weigh his options like a reasonable mech would. He could help Orion and make the effects of the aphrodisiac go away right here right now or…they could wait it out. Although, waiting it out posed some great risks to Orion. The aphrodisiac has already lasted the whole day; it might be one that only goes away with an assisted overload. If that’s the case and they wait too long, Orion’s internals could melt!

D-16 reached to his codpiece and popped off his spike panel, finalizing his decision. His spike immediately pressurized and bobbed in air. Orion moaned at the sight of the black colored spike with orange bio lights. He excitedly thought of the girth stretching him soon. He quickly wrapped a servo around it, unable to close his fist from the width, and wasted no time in sliding it into his mouth.

D-16 shivered at how warm Orion’s mouth was. His servo hovered over Orion’s helm, his frame still too hot to the touch. Orion quickly began moving up and down D-16’s length. D-16 bit his servo to stifle his moans while Orion didn’t care if anyone heard him.

Orion could feel every ridge of the spike slide smoothly into his mouth. The head of D-16’s spike reached well past his intake. Orion gagged but he didn’t want to remove himself.

D-16 stiffened and slammed a fist against the wall behind him. His optics were screwed shut. His charge was climbing too fast.

“P-Pax…mnph…Pax!!” D-16 yelled and managed to grab Orion’s helm and push him all the way down. His spike twitched with every shot of transfluid into the other’s mouth. Orion keened at the feeling of the warm oily fluid going down his intake.

Orion kept sucking D-16’s spike, not even pausing for a breather. D-16 began to feel a burning sensation from the overstimulation. He reached down and pulled Orion’s helm off his spike. He didn’t release his hold on the blue helm and instead angled it up to make contact with Orion’s dimmed optics.

“Th-That’s enough! I’m supposed to make you overload!” D-16 managed to get out between fits of static. Orion’s mouth was open and his glossa was sticking out as he gasped for air. He had a dazed expression on his face. D-16 doubt Orion heard him.

“Here…stand against the wall,” D-16 said as he picked Orion up. He gently laid him against the wall. Thankfully, Orion could still stand on his own. D-16 looked down and saw pink smears all over Orion’s thighs. The mesh of his valve was swollen and his bright blue node was blinking irregularly.

D-16 caged Orion with one arm and raised one of his legs with the other. He grabbed his spike and rubbed it on the grey folds, making more of a mess with Orion’s lubricants. The contact made Orion tremble.

“I-In…Inside!” Orion stuttered, his hips bucking against D-16’s. D-16 held Orion’s impatient hips with his strong servos.

D-16 sucked in a vent and held it, bracing himself. He positioned his spike and easily slipped faster than he intended into Orion’s hot valve. Their arrays were pressed firmly together when D-16 bottomed out.

Both mechs groaned loudly. Orion from finally being filled up and D-16 from the tight heat of the valve. The feeling of his calipers struggling to circle around the girth of the spike made Orion whimper.

Orion clutched onto D-16’s shoulders. His servos were still searing hot, but that was the last thing on D-16’s mind.

D-16 muttered a small prayer of gratitude to Primus under his breath. He began to slowly move his hips back. Orion was so wet, there was almost no friction. It took everything in D-16 not to start slamming back into Orion’s sopping valve.

Lubricant dripped onto the ground as D-16 carefully slid back in. He bit back a moan when he bumped Orion’s gestation seal.

“D-Dee…” Orion’s soft voice snapped D-16’s attention towards him. “If you don’t start pounding me into this wall right now, I’m afraid I’ll melt and die,” Orion whispered, his hold on D-16’s shoulders getting tighter. He felt so much pleasure from D-16 thrusting slowly that he couldn’t keep his optics on the silver mech, but he needed more.

“R-Right…yeah…” D-16 nodded as he pulled out slowly until only the head of his spike was inside. He took a couple deep vents and, without warning, shoved himself inside in one quick motion. Orion gasped and his optics widened. D-16 set a brutal pace, which was exactly what Orion was craving.

All of Orion’s internal nodes fired through his sensor net at once, making him arch off the wall. He moaned and whined and kicked. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the intense pleasure of D-16’s roughness.

Orion left scratches on D-16’s plating, making him groan. The sound of their hips colliding bounced off the walls of the alleyway. Orion quickly shoved his lubricant filled digits into D-16’s mouth. D-16 moaned at the sweet taste and sucked the best he could while keeping his rhythm.

Warnings flashed in Orion’s HUD about the temperature in his frame rising to a fatal degree. Light steam started to expel from the gaps in between his metal plates. The energon in his fuel lines was starting to evaporate.

Orion tried to tell D-16, but the only sounds that came from his voicebox were static-filled moans. He tried to focus on his pleasure, trying to make his charge climb faster.

The way Orion stiffened suddenly and squeezed his optics shut alerted D-16 that something was wrong. His hips started to slow down. Orion frantically shook his head

“Mm-!” Orion tried to speak, “d…!” He wanted to say ‘more!’ or ‘don’t stop!’ but neither came out. Luckily, D-16 got the message. He grabbed Orion’s waist and pulled him harshly in time with his thrusts.

D-16 inched his servo closer to Orion’s flickering node. He pressed on the little nub and moved it in a circle. Orion’s noises got louder. He took his servo from D-16’s mouth and clamped it onto his own. Which didn’t do much; Orion was practically sobbing.

Two more bruising thrusts and Orion’s callipers squeezed around D-16’s spike in a fierce overload. White sparks danced across his vision. His firm grip left dents on D-16. A long groan left D-16 as he overloaded inside Orion. The rhythmic flutters of the calipers milked his spike for every drop.

They both stood there, panting and covered in condensation. Orion’s HUD notified him that his frame’s temperature was going back to normal. He felt utterly exhausted and sore. He limply fell onto D-16’s chest.

“Woah, you okay?” D-16 asked in a worried tone, steadily holding Orion up. Orion could only nod in acknowledgment, his voicebox fried. His legs felt wobbly and his helm felt heavy. D-16 slowly sat him down on the ground. He placed his servo on his forehelm.

“You’re not burning up anymore…the aphrodisiac must be out of your system now,” D-16 said with a relieved sigh. Then he clicked his glossa. He wanted to scold Orion for being so much of an idiot that he consumed an aphrodisiac in the first place. Primus below, he could’ve died! But seeing the tiredness in Orion’s face made his anger subside.

“Come on…let’s go back to the barracks. You need to rest,” D-16 whispered. Orion deliriously smiled at him. D-16 swung one of Orion’s arms over his shoulder, grabbed his waist, and hauled him up to his pedes. Orion chuckled to himself at how he couldn’t stand on his own.

Orion snuggled up against D-16’s frame. D-16 rolled his optics with a soft smile in response.

He could get mad at him later.

[liseytopia]

white flag — a. donaldson ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

stanford!art x fashion designer!fem!reader

synopsis: art has been a part of your life—even if it's been mostly in the background—for two years. apparently the casual hookups and distant public flirting aren't enough for him. questions linger at the front of his mind all the time, but he's always too afraid to ask.. why are you so scared of commitment?

warnings n contents: slightly implied smut (none actually written), angst, reader has commitment issues and minor past trauma, hurt n comfort, halfway fluffy

word count: 2.6k

art has been spiraling since the first time he met you at an afterparty in his first year at stanford. he remembers so well, you were with your friends, laughing with a red solo cup in your hand while he watched from the perimeter of the room like an idiot. ever since he spotted you in the crowd, he found himself getting distracted whenever patrick tried speaking to him and his eyes always drifted slowly back to you like a magnet to metal.

when art finally gained the confidence to go up and speak to you, he quite literally almost fainted. it might have been the liquor's fault, at least partially, but god, you were drop-dead gorgeous. his knees were weak and he stuttered as you laughed at his flushed face. he did eventually leave the party with you, and it was utterly embarrassing just to get to that point, but art would never complain. he had the best night of his life with you.

art hoped, wished—prayed that he would get the opportunity to swoop in and ask for the pleasure of being your boyfriend after around the second hookup, but his dreams fell short. every time he'd tried to take a step further into the deep end, maybe kiss you a little intimately than he had before or give you those soft, pleading eyes that spoke 'i love you', you got worried you would drown and shunned him away. art never understood why. he wanted to know why you hated the idea of being anything but casual, and for a long while, he assumed it was his fault and started to take a step back.

so that leads you to the present. art's kept the casualness he knows you feel comfortable with; the lack of labels, the nights spent in each other's dorms once or twice a week—mostly yours, patrick wouldn't so much appreciate his roommate having sex in the bed right across from him.

you're twisted naked in the dingy sheets of art's college bed tonight, patrick is gone, most likely meddling in some situation with tashi. clothes are scattered all over the furniture and floor, your panties caught on and dangling from the corner of his dresser. both of your chests rise and fall in an undulating rhythm, basking in the afterglow of yet another night of having sex just to not even talk about it in the morning.

your eyes are trained on his ceiling, not staring at anything in particular, rather just concentrating on how nice it feels to be here right now. art's eyes are on you.

he swears you're glowing. the room is dim, just one lamp across the room on, but all he sees radiating from you is beauty and light. you're so gorgeous, he wishes he could pull you flat against him and give you soft little kisses over your collarbones and neck and cheeks, and whisper into your ear how he loves you endlessly, how you're perfect for him. but you're not dating, and this isn't love, so he continues to stare at you from the other side of the mattress instead.

a million questions are lingering at the tip of art's tongue. he feels vulnerable, vulnerable enough to ask you some things he's always wanted to know. even if that means you might react in a way he won't not like. but art is prepared—if he's had to live all these years staying strong for you and not absolutely crumbling because of your ignorance to his poor self, then surely he can ask you a few questions.

"darling?" art calls from beside you softly, his voice not harsh enough to slice through the silence but loud enough to get your attention. you turn your head to look at him, only to see that his gaze is already well fixed on you.

you hum in response, eyes drifting over the boy next to you. his golden curls are tousled from being tugged on, and those baby blues are looking at you like you created life. there's a small sparkle in them, even in the darkness.

art goes silent when you look at him. the more he sees, the deeper he falls down this endless pit of love for you that only leads to nowhere. your hair is messier than usual, your body is lazily tucked halfway under the sheets, most of it is outside in search of cool air because once again, the air conditioning unit in art's dorm room is broken.

you notice how art is staring and smile to yourself. he looks dazed. "earth to art," you tease, waving a hand over his eyes, which causes him to blink out of his lapse and laugh sheepishly.

art mutters something inaudible, rubbing a hand over his face. "sorry."

"what were you gonna say?" you question, curiously rolling the rest of your body over to face him.

art opens his mouth to speak but hesitates and shuts it again. he has so much he could ask you, so much he can say, but he's worried of scaring you off. he can't just flat out ask all the things that have been in his mind at constant: why do you neglect him except for when you want attention? why are you so appalled by the idea of a relationship? how come you never talk to him about how you feel?

so instead, he decides on something lighter. some small things he wants to know. after all, you didn't ever share much with him about you. there's still so much he wants to learn, and he needs to know more to have a chance at winning you over.

"do you prefer sweet or salty things?" art asks, his voice a relaxed hum.

you laugh. "what kind of a question is that?" you were definitely expecting a different response.

"i just wanna get to know you better," he reasons with a smile matching your own. "c'mon, it's a simple question."

"okay.." you drawl skeptically. "well, i like you, and you can be both," you say with a small hint of teasing in your tone. "but generally sweet."

art laughs at that one. of course you would say something like that. you have to be teasing him, right? you must know the effect your words have on him.

"what about parties?" art speaks up. "do you actually like the ones you drag me to?"

he can see you tense a little at his question, and he's sure there's more under the surface. "well, i wouldn't go to them if i didn't like them, right?"

"you tell me," art shrugs. he's definitely pushing for answers. he brings a hand to your side, skin still exposed, and pinches it playfully.

you giggle, squirming to push his hand away. "i like most of them," you mumble. "sometimes i kinda have to. gives me a better image when fancy people recognize me."

there's honesty behind your voice—something that art picks up on, but not entirely. you don't necessarily enjoy drinking, but of course no one would suspect that. sometimes the music gets too loud and your head starts pounding but when you keep dancing, nobody bats an eye.

art brings his hand back to your side, not pinching but rubbing gentle circles into the skin with his thumb. "you like the attention?" art says, and it isn't really a question, but he wants an answer anyway.

you relax at art's tender touch. it's making you docile; compliant. "sort of," you hum. "i like when business owners say they've seen my work, not when guys try to get up in my face."

art knows you. you've always had a knick for academic validation, most other fashion designers do. but you don't go out of your way to impress other people, no, you create for yourself. because it makes you happy. because it helps you express yourself and how you feel. that is what art loves you for—because you live life to the fullest for yourself and not for the impression of others.

"what about me?" he speaks up. "do you like my attention?"

the sparkle in his eyes are visible, even in the dim lighting. "always," you smile, and it makes art's heart beam. "'t's the only attention i want."

as much as your words fill his heart, he can't help but feel conflicted.

"then how come you never want to.. label this?"

your eyebrows crease. you blink twice, wondering if you heard him wrong. "what?" you ask, surprised. art never went around this topic. why now?

art's fingers go still against your body. he knows it's risky, but if not now, then when?

"this. us. what we have," he clarifies. his voice is soft, and his eyes are trained on his hand against the dip in your waist, afraid to look up and see what your face looks like. "why don't you want to call it something? anything?"

you sigh. "i.." you start, at a loss for words. you want to deny it, say that it isn't because you don't want to and rather that it just never happened, but you can't lie to yourself like that. lie to him.

truthfully, you're scared of commitment. you don't want to feel like you're dedicating your life to another boy who can only do bad for you. as much as you love art, it's hard not to believe that "boyfriend and girlfriend" is a cage for you.

"i.. don't wanna get hurt, i guess," you mumble, avoiding his gaze just the same.

art tenses. like a strong gust of wind, it finally hits him. the casual hookups, drunken nights, lack of labels. he's embarrassed for never realizing. and even if it hurts to know you're scared of being hurt by such a soft, sweet boy like him, he'll always be hoping.

"you don't think i'd hurt you, do you?" he asks, almost timidly like a dog that knows it's in trouble with its tail between its legs.

you inhale deeply. "it's not you specifically, art," you explain, attempting to keep your cool. "you're the sweetest boy i've known. but i've been through this before and i always get kicked to the curb and i'm done letting men rule my life," you continue more aggressively—not towards art himself, but toward all the men you've wasted your time on in the past.

"'cause all boys want is a sex doll and someone to worship them and once a girl falls in love, they just leave."

you're greeted with silence. agonizing, deafening silence.

art isn't angry—at least, not at you. of course he's angry at whatever dick made you feel this way. at the idea of a lousy douchebag taking you for granted and treating you like a trophy. he knows you're more than that.

you can feel hot, angry tears forming over your eyes and glazing over them with a sparkling sheen. your head is down. you can't let him see you like this, not after what you just said to him. your breathing is slightly labored you want nothing more than to just sink into the mattress below you and disappear forever.

"look at me," art instructs firmly, holding your chin up to keep you from turning away from him. the tears in your glassy eyes look wrong, he should be the one making you laugh. "i'm not like them, okay? i'm not going to let that happen."

your eyes finally look up to meet his gaze, and your eyes shoot straight through art's skin to his heart like a dagger. "well, i can't know that, can i?" you bite, and it's a sharp tone you've never used around anyone before, especially not him. "every time i think someone is different, they're not."

art tries not to get defensive at your words. he's a patient person, even if it stings to hear you talk to him like he's a soulless scumbag.

"you know me," he quips. his voice is quiet, bordering angry. "you know exactly who i am."

art releases his grip from your chin to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his expression going softer. "you're letting some guys from the past ruin what we could have together."

his last sentence strikes a nerve, something you've never thought about before.

you can't dwell on the past to get better. you can't sit and wallow in self-pity for the rest of your life. you have to move forward. make progress. learn. experience.

"you're right," you choke, dipping your head down again and finally letting those agonizing tears have their way and flow down the apples of your cheeks to art's bare chest. "i'm sorry."

art shakes his head and pulls you close to him. he can't explain how he feels—god, he's so happy you finally realized, but it's never a good thing to see you cry.

he lays with you in silence, allowing you to let go. art's patience has always been something you adored. he won't complain, not when he gets to be with you and rub your back in soothing circles until you can speak again.

"you don't have to worry about all that," art speaks up after your muffled sobs turn to quiet sniffles. it's a bit of a sudden statement, but his voice is gentle and knowing, and it feels comforting to know he isn't upset with you. "not with me."

the words sink into your mind and you believe him. god, after all this time, how could you not? it almost makes you feel even worse for being so pessimistic and shunning art away.

you don't say anything, but art knows you heard him and he doesn't need a confirmation. you're waving the white flag. letting down your walls. art had a way of doing that, of punching at the stone-solid bricks with his bare knuckles, bleeding and broken and begging on his knees just so he could get to see the real you. it makes your faucet of tears start up again knowing he's done that for years. two years.

art continues to hold you, to soothe you through your tears, his body like a shield from the world. his chin is rested atop your head and his arms are caging you in, making sure you feel okay.

he has to admit it hurts that you don't trust him. it hurts like a knife to the heart, to know that you're scared to fall for him.

but he's willing to wait. he's got endless patience and he knows you'll come around with time.

"i'm not going anywhere, okay?" he attempts to get your attention once again by speaking, his hand moving to stroke the back of your head.

nodding, you curl into his body as your eyes drain themselves of your pity. your anger, worry, sorrow, love.

you've never realized how good it feels to be so close to art. it's like his body is somehow fitting just right with yours, like the missing piece to your puzzle, and you wonder why you haven't ever let this happen before.

finally, your head draws back from his ribs with puffy, swollen eyes and a pout on your lips. art can't resist the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. now you're both idiots for never realizing earlier that it's like it was always meant to be this way. you smile back at him, albeit weakly.

"you're a fucking piece of work," art can't help himself when he mumbles those words to you. his smile turns into a lighthearted smirk and he can't believe when you actually laugh.

"shut up—" you attempt to prove yourself otherwise before he silences you with a gentle kiss. it's wholesome, like a bandage over your bruised heart, like a reminder that he'll always be here for you even when you have your worst moments.

you momentarily adjust to the kiss, and it's all you've ever needed. it feels so right, so comforting. you're done hiding, and surely not for another stupid inconvenience that means much less than the love that you've found, the love you have now right in your hand that's holding art's like a symbol of your surrender.

if u enjoyed, please feel free to reblog or leave a comment to help me out! only kind comments and actual constructive criticism will be tolerated <3

check out my masterlist for more!

© liseytopia 2025 : do not copy, translate, or steal my work.

(@glassmermaids i hope you like it my love)

[mullermilkshake]

Just a drive away.

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> ?

Suguru tries his luck again.

Doctor!Suguru Geto x Fem! reader Tags - Blood/ violence/ injury,Knives,Non-con reference(s), implied stalking

<<< For more Suguru content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

Keeping tabs was something Suguru Geto did far too well.

Suddenly, Satoru knew more about you than ever, all because doctor Geto was updating him on every little thing he could under the guise of being a ‘good neighbour’.

He caught you in the hallways in the morning before work, and when you got home, claiming he was popping out for groceries or something random you didn’t bother to really listen to. After ignoring his invites to go with him, casual requests for little things like sugar and other stupid, dumbs thing at your door, enough was enough. You were already looking for somewhere else to move to, but you had unfortunately signed a year long lease.

So, you did your best to adapt, to change your routine and make it as erratic as possible just to throw him off.

For a while, you were able to leave two hours before work and walk there without Geto so much as noticing you had left. Provided you snuck out in stealth mode, it often worked. Getting home was harder as you tried to leave early, or again, much later after you clocked out to avoid him. But if he came home before you, it was as though he could sense you a mile away like a anxious dog waiting for its owner.

And then when your routine grew too monotonous and he figured it out, then you would need to change it all up again. Like today.

The car horns quick double toot should have been the first give away, a car in the dark of early morning winter beeping you and driving alongside you like it was crawling with desperation.

“Hey there, I didn’t recognise you. Do you want a lift?”

Seeing Geto there in a dark car was as unnerving as it could ever be. His interior light wasn’t on, he leant out of the open car window so that the orange street light lit his face up instead. His arm hung out the window too to match his blaze attitude. He was crazy to be approaching a woman this early in the morning and in the pitch dark too. You were running the risk already bumping into less than savoury people this time of day, and he just added to the emphasised grasp on your miniature deodorant can in your coat pocket.

If called for, you had no qualms spraying him in the face. Well, scrap that, you hoped you could.

“No thank you. I think walking is good for me.” You were past being cordial with him.

“Come on, it’s freezing. You don’t know what kind of bad people are out this time of morning, it’s safer in the car. I can drive you each morning, the offer is still there, y'know?” He kept the car rolling slowly to match your pace.

You had declined the offer back when he first offered and you would do so now out of pride and the fact that you never wanted to be alone in a car with him again.

“I’m good, thanks.” You made a faster pace and opted to turn down a little side alley to get to the hospital quicker. “This is my turn, I'll see you when I see you.”

“Wait a sec-” You ignored him and heard the car drive off rather aggressively.

Then, you stopped and waited to see if he’d pull back round, but he didn’t, he turned off in the direction of the other side of the alley way as though he’d cut you off.

Idiot. Like you were stupid enough to walk down a dark alleyway with no external lighting to get to work. You’d happily go the long way round and take the extra twenty minute journey than endanger yourself like that. Even if it added an extra hour, you’d still choose the long way.

After the car disappeared, you turned back the original way and took one step- “Hey beautiful, where you goin’?”

At first, you were going to ignore the disembodied voice emerging from the alleyway like an eel from its submerged cave. But with your deodorant can clutched tight, you turned and saw it was one man. At least that’s what the dark showed you for now, for all you knew, it could have been thirty of them in there.

That thought did not comfort you in the slightest, even if it was just one man.

“Nowhere that concerns you. I have to go.” Turning to leave got you three extra paces from the alleyway before the man caught up and got in front of you.

“Hold on there, Doll. I’ve seen yer pretty lil face walking around here, how come y'never said hi, hm?” He was a little taller than you, maybe a few inches and far too close to accurately assess his stature.

But he also had his hands in his pockets too. “I’ve never seen you before, but I really need to go.”

“Woah- it’s rude to walk away when someone’s talkin’ to ya, baby. I just wanna have a lil fun, why don’t you wanna have fun with me?”

You were starting to lose your patience. He was probably on drugs or something. “I’m leaving now.”

"wait a sec-" He grabbed you and didn’t see the little deodorant can you pulled from your pocket. “Ah! Fuck! You fucking bitch!”

It got him to let go, you moved to the side and bolted. A harsh grab on your arm pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with bare gritted teeth and flushed red eyes under the streetlamp. Maybe you shouldn’t have bitten your nose off to spite your face, but getting in the car with Geto seriously didn’t seem all that much safer.

“I wanted to play nice and get to know ya, but then yer fuckin' assault me?” He pulled out a knife from his pocket.

Okay, you were really contemplating your own actions now. You couldn’t move and kept your eyes on the knife hoping it wasn’t going through your sternum, but a plus side was that the hospital wasn’t that far away. Could you make it there before you bled out? Would this psycho do more than grab you before the steel in his hand even made contact-

“Ouch!” You hissed as he dragged the knife across your arm which sliced right through the material of your coat.

Your arm started numbing cold as with the warmth of the blood trickling over your fingers. It must have been pretty deep by the miniature pool of red collecting at your feet. Shit, was this it? Your name on tomorrow’s front page of the newspaper, your death and how it happened. 

Would Geto have guilt for the rest of his life? In honesty, you didn’t care about that, you already knew you should have just gotten into the car with him regardless of what your gut was telling you. Still, it didn’t matter now, your choice was made. 

Now you would live with it. Well… die with it.

His alcohol drenched breath got got close, you screwed your eyes shut and prayed he’d get some divine intervention. Maybe the streetlamp would fall on him and miss you entirely so you could get this wound cleaned from whatever the hell he had on his unclean blade. 

“The next ones goin’ in your throat when I fuck-” he moved away, or he jumped back. 

You did not open your eyes, you could no longer hear him for a second until gasps for air replaced it. The pressure of his body against yours was no longer present and you could breath a little. But where did he go?

“There you are.” Geto’s voice put you on edge, his breathing erratic as though he'd ran a marathon. “Hey- you’re safe now.”

You tensed at his touch on your shoulders, squeezing them and ultimately making your arm throb even more. “Ouch- ouch!”

He pulled back and you could breathe, but you did not want to open your eyes. He took your hand though you wanted to pull it away and shout at him. What the hell was he even doing here anyway- where did that other guy go?

“Your arm, he did this to you.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get it stitched up at the hospital.”

Why were you still just standing there? Geto didn’t let go and it prompted you to pull away but he didn’t let go. “I’ll be fine, I just need to get to the hospital.”

When you opened your eyes, you saw Geto closer than you realised, and the man on the ground was not moving, the knife that was in his hand wasn’t there after. In fact, you don’t remember even hearing a clatter of the metal during the scuffle.

You weren’t quite sure who you were more afraid of now.

“Please- please just let me go to the hospital. Thank you for helping me, but I just need a bit of space. Can I have that, please?”

“Get in my car, I’ll take you. It’s the other end of the alleyway.” So he was waiting for you there.

He stood there open mouthed when you ripped your hand from his and shuffled against the wall to get on your way to the hospital. “What part of space do you not understand? Thank you for the help, but I need a moment.”

You started walking off, nausea washing over you from a traumatic experience. It was the weight of not only this morning, but the whole ordeal with Suguru Geto grew too heavy to bear anymore. You needed space away from him- of course it was Suguru Geto that came to your rescue because he had some weird sort of obsession over you that was entirely unrequited.

“If you don’t get your arm cleaned soon, you’ll be at risk of a lot of things. I have a kit in my car until you get there-”

“I know how infection works, Doctor Geto. I work in a hospital!” You stomped off and surprisingly he didn’t follow you. 

It gave you plenty of time to cry a little and curse a few times until you made it to the hospital where Geto was waiting out the front in his lab coat with his arms folded like a strict headmaster in all of those period dramas you watched. 

Of course he’s fucking waiting for me here, I’m a fool to think he’d just go about his day. 

He just stood there, nothing like his usually warm and sweet exterior smile. This expression was the same one you had seen through your peephole the first night you spent in your new apartment.

Unimpressed and ominous. “Go to my office and I’ll patch you up. Now.” 

His dominance was something you had never experienced and never saw it directed at anyone else either. But for some reason, like a scolded child, you did as you were told and marched on up to the door with Geto’s name and title on it.

“How could you be so reckless?” You barely got your coat off before he ripped into you, slamming his door shut and anxiously running his hand through his hair. “I offered you a lift for this specific reason, I don’t know why you would go down that alley-”

“I didn’t go down there! I turned away as soon as you left and went to take the long way round.”

He threw up his hands and paced towards his first aid box and supplies. “Why? I-I can’t understand why you’re so combative all the time-”

Is this fucker serious? 

“I didn’t want to get in the car with you, how hard is that to understand?! I need space from you breathing down my neck all the time and telling Satoru everything about my life that you see- you don't know me and I don’t want to be your focus all the time. I hate it!”

Geto’s back was to you, his fist gripped so tight on the wall mounted box that it was shaking, his knuckles pale. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

Taking the supplies from the box, he placed them down calmly though you saw right through it. would he throw something if he got really angry, or just shout at you to release the pressure valve on his anger?

He did neither, just placed the supplies on the table and pulled out a seat for you to sit on, which you took with reluctance. “I care about you.”

What? 

“You don’t- How- Listen, you have a funny way of showing it.”

“How?” He sat down too, pulling his gloves on. “How do you not see that yet? I just got you away from a man who was going to hurt you more than just this.”

You looked at your arm he pointed to, it was pretty deep. But that didn’t negate the fact that your gut screamed around him. “A man that looked like you beat senseless. The only reason I was in this position was because you make me nervous and so anxious all the time. If you hadn't slowed me down this morning I wouldn’t have been around that man. You’re bleeding into my life, Geto- where is that guy anyway? Has he gotten medical treatment?”

He mustn't have assumed that you noticed how red his knuckles were in your traumatic haze, or that he simply didn’t care. This was not normal behaviour from someone who claimed they cared, from someone so intelligent to practice medicine like he did.

“Don’t think about him.” He injected the anaesthetic into your arm with a precision you didn’t even feel. “You never have to worry about him again. But I was just offering you a lift- why didn't you tell me that’s how I made you feel?”

He was worried about that? You were so done with being civil for Satoru’s sake. “You fingered me on the exam table, harassed me to go on a date with you and watch me all the time coming and going from my apartment and you wonder why you make me feel uncomfortable?”

Geto put the needle down and watched you with a hardened stare, an inquisitive one. “That’s how you saw it? I was doing my job, nothing more. I can’t help it if I find you attractive, and I’m only doing what Satoru told me to.”

"There's no record of my results- don't bullshit me."

"A system error, the entire hospital was done for about an hour. That's al."

"That's all? You can't be serious."

Then his deep purple eyes darkened more than you ever thought they could have towards you. “There’s a lot of stories you probably heard about me, how I'm constantly chasing, or that I've had interactions with a lot of women here. But it's all untrue. There’s only one person on my mind and nothing that will change that... You are that person, and it won’t ever be anyone else.”

He started suturing your arm up, his aimed his focus towards your arm and not your rosy cheeks and nose. “I care a lot about you, and I won’t give up on showing you that. Not until you understand just how far I’ll go to get you to see, because you clearly don't if you think this way about me.”

What the fuck? 

“To see what, exactly?"

“That I love you.”

And now you were in a room alone with him.

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[ilona2nerrie]

Wings.

A Superbat fic (: avian au.

Tagged:

@itsmeairix

What chapter are you on:

1 – leading.

Species of bird for each character?

Clark Kent: Summer Tanager

There are really amazing birds and look at that! I think it’s Clark coded. Also, the red of Clarks wings replace his cape in his hero costume, where’s Bruce cape accents him. (that’ll be an important plot point later) To add a little Kryptonian spiel to it, Clark has two sets of wings and in the right light they have an iridescent gold sheen as superman. He hides this as Clark Kent by checking the sleek feathers nearly constantly puffed up, with his extra set of wings bound and under his grey coat, that’s a little too big on him. His wings are quite large, but he hunches them slightly to make them look smaller, and the feathers are longer than most humans, but that’s kept hidden by the fact at his work, his feathers are mostly slightly puffed up. Like how his hair is curly as Clark Kent and not as superman. (new movie). Thumbs up.

Bruce Wayne: black.

Claims he has crow wings, but somethings off. And his feathers always look so stiff, not that anyone can see them from under his cape. PS: not being lazy, this will count for an important plot point later.

Also, I have a lot more Superbat stories in progress on my blog! You can find them in the pinned post under ‘my au’s.’  If you like this one, go check the other ones out! Also, if you want to be tagged in the next part of this one or in any other story, please just say in the comments! Your comments mean the world to me, and I love any participation people give me. (:. That being said, enjoy the story!

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Bruce threaded his wings through the back of his suit, as Dick watched, holding an almost asleep toddler, Jason.

“Is this really a good idea, dad?” Dick asked, grabbing a pack and handing it to his father, tilting his head.

Bruce grabbed the pack, fastening it onto his belt with a small click. He looked up at Dick and ruffled his hair.

“It’ll be fine.” Bruce said softly. “But I need to do this. For multiple reasons, but I do have reasons. And I’ve taken multiple precautions, so everything will be fine. Just stay safe with your siblings, Alfred’s letting you eat in front of the tv tonight took a good bit of convincing.”

Dick nodded, but he really wasn’t sure about this. He knew his dad, and he knew it could get really bad if things went wrong. His dad was starting a whole team with people with superpowers. And Bruce didn’t. Dick trusted his dad, but he couldn’t help but think of worst-case scenario. And it was a scary thought that his dad could get hurt.

Dicks attention was drawn away when Jason stirred, blinking drearily against him. Dick shushed him softly and handed Bruce his cape, bouncing Jason slightly.

Bruce wrapped the cape around his shoulders, carefully clicking it into place on the collar of the suit and moving it over his wings. Best no one saw them properly at the first meeting. No chance to let them form weaknesses.

“I’ll see you all soon.” Bruce said softly, kneeling down next to Dick and patting his head. “You have my word.”

He gave Jason a quick hug and bumped foreheads with Dick, before walking to his car and hoping in, giving his kids a wave as he drove off.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Clark had been ready for this day for weeks.

He had gotten a sketchy email about joining a new team, but after a bit of sleuthing he had figured it was genuine. And by that point he had already gotten excited. See, Clark had never properly fit in. Well, anywhere. He could pretend he did, he was good at pretending. But now he was asked to go to a meeting with other superheroes. Other Meta’s. It was a surreal experience. And honestly? He was ready for it. He had even taken a day off work to get there early!

Perry wasn’t the happiest with it, but Clark did have sick days. So, he was going to use them. Even if it meant a phone call interrogation from Lois. Which was rather hard to pass, she was veeery good at detecting liars.

He had actually woken up this morning and cleaned his suit by hand, putting a cotton but in the ridges in hopes to make It cleaner. It didn’t work the best, but hey, he was excited. He was going to look good anyway. Stretching his lower set of wings was nice as well, he didn’t get to do that unless he was superman. And even then, they weren’t even out casually, just battle. But now he has got a whole day with them out, talking to others who have had the same experiences as him probably. Just… just struggling to fit in at all. It was hard.

But now he wouldn’t be alone.

If Clark was asked, he would’ve said that he kept this to the upmost secrecy. In fact, that would be a lie. The second he found out that the whole email ended up being legitimate, he called his mum and just spoke. So much. It was a lot, but he needed someone to talk to. And if concerned, she was still happy for him. She did tell him to be careful, and that it wouldn’t be unusual for this to be a threat. To which Clark responded, if it was, he would already be screwed up, seeing as he got sent the email on his work one.

His mother was very quiet after that. He had to admit his plan to comfort her may not have worked. It was a bit awkward after that. He ended the call to fix his suit after that.

Clark also took his time to properly preen his wings, something which he didn’t really do often. Sometimes if he got a chance to before he went off to fight, he did, but they have to be messy to cover the sheen that they made. It felt nice to take some care of them.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce sped through the city, soon driving out into the fields that lay between Gotham and others. His car sped through the passing foliage, careful to follow the map he had plotted out. Nothing flashy for a first meeting, he had just made a small, mountainside base. Definitely not flashy, (he honestly has a warped idea of flashy tbf) and very normal. Well, it was secluded. That was a plus.

He hit a button on his dashboard, opening up a small hole in the mountain, in which he sped through as it re-closed itself. He hoped his invites would be able to find this place, well, they were superhuman. If they didn’t, he’d definitely be silently judging them. Except the archer, he had a pass. He was human.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Clark hadn’t just taken off, he had wrapped a coat around himself and gotten a cab, only taking off when he was safely out of metropolis. he hid the coat behind a random bush, not the best idea but go on, and took off into the sky, his two sets of wings working in tandem to go higher and higher. He fished his phone out of his suits pocket, going back into emails and downloading the app that had been sent to him on the email. Something about it taking him to where he needed to go, and hey. If it was useful then so be it. He wasn’t one to question disembodied voices.

He clicked the link of the email, and the phone went dead. He tapped the screen, worrying he had downloaded a virus or something, until it lit up. It had an arrow on the screen, when he turned the arrow pointed to where he was supposed to go. He tried to click off it, but the phone just buzzed at him and the arrow went a deeper colour. Ok.

He followed the arrow.

He watched the landscape as he flew by, there were mostly plains out here. But he saw a town every now and then, going higher to avoid detection. Probably hard with bright red wings, but he would manage. He always did.

Clark dipped down when the phone had told him he had arrived, flying through the mountains, letting his eyes scan the terrain. He saw a small building, attached to the mountainside and sticking out quite hidden actually. That looked expensive, and fancy. Cool.

He saw a small landing platform and flew towards it, examining. He did go down when the phone dinged, and he was surprised when his phone didn’t turn back on. It said something like lockdown, then just turned off. What? He honestly didn’t have time to think about it because the landing dock opened up. Now, there was part of a platform that went down slowly. And he could’ve made it there, but he had landed on the side instead of the middle. So, when it opened up, being startled he didn’t have time to recat before he just fell into it flat on his face.

He pushed himself up, His gaze falling on someone staring at him, eyes wide and looking startled.

“You, fell…” Bruce stated bluntly, blinking at the other. “Yeah, your thing dropped me.” Clark huffed, sitting up and fluffing out his wings.

“It’s not the platforms fault your fell; you weren’t in the middle.” Bruce muttered under his breath. Clark decided not to go on about it, and just stood, eyeing the other up and down.

The two had the same thought as they stared, unmoving for the time being.

‘This guy is going to be a pain in my ass.’

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 7.4k

CHAPTER 15: September 3, 2024 - September 7, 2024

The night was still, but Bucky’s mind was not.

Both light and heavy snoring filled the silence of the night, some muffled underneath blankets and jackets and whatever else the Howling Commandos could use for warmth. Despite being March, the Polish mountains were freezing, with frost covering every surface imaginable. Bucky could see his breath as he stared up at the tent, too tense to fall asleep. Too upset to doze off. Too… Well, maybe he didn’t know how he felt.

Did it make sense to mourn someone you barely knew? 

But then again… That someone did save him twice. 

Quietly, Bucky sat up, grabbed his rifle, and slowly stepped out of the tent, careful not to wake the others. The cold air immediately attacked his skin, sending shivers down his back as he slipped on his jacket. He then glanced around until he spotted a familiar figure, who was sitting on a fallen tree trunk on the edge of their camp, and he walked over with a wave.

“Steve,” Bucky greeted with a low voice, “go ahead and sleep. I got it.”

The blonde looked up, his hand no longer wiping his shield of its dirt and grime, and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not your turn yet.”

“I can’t sleep, so you might as well.” He sat down next to his friend, holding his rifle in front of him. “At least one of us should be getting some shuteye while we have the chance.”

“Can’t sleep? After the day we had?” Steve let out a chuckle in disbelief. “That can’t be.”

“Well, it’s true.” Bucky slapped a hand onto his shoulder with a grin. “Go to bed, Steve. I got it.”

But rather than listening to his friend, Steve continued to sit still, making the dark-haired man roll his eyes. Knowing how stubborn he could be, Bucky let him stay as he began to clean his own weapon, flicking off hardened mud and lingering ash from the surface. The two were quiet for a while, trying to relax as much as they could in the chilly weather before Steve looked back at his best friend.

“How are your injuries?” he asked, observing how stiff Bucky’s movements were.

He shrugged. “Not great, but not horrible. My side still hurts, but everything else is healing fine. I swear, I’ve never had cuts and bruises come and go as quickly as they are right now.” He lightly touched his cheek, where a scratch mark was already fading. “I must be doing something right with my diet if I’m recovering this well.”

Steve chuckled. “What? You think what you’re eating is making you better faster?”

“I don’t know, man. I am a growing boy.”

“Shut up.” Steve nudged him, making the other laugh while he shook his head with a grin. “So stupid.”

“Hey—” Bucky smirked. “Is it all that stupid if I’m just repeating what my mom said?”

“Don’t bring Winnie into this.”

“I might write to her that you said—”

Suddenly, Bucky was lying on the ground, eyes wide as he stared at Steve, who had just shoved him off the tree trunk. The blonde man laughed. “Enough, you knucklehead.”

“Damn,” he stood up from the icy ground, patting the mud off of his worn-out uniform, “you and your super strength. You never did that before.”

“Well, I couldn’t.” Steve smiled. “Never was able to push you around like that.”

“Yeah, and I’d like it if you don’t make a habit out of it.”

Steve hummed, looking over Bucky once again as he plopped back down next to him. “You seriously not gonna go to sleep?”

“Like I said, I can’t. So,” he pointed at their tent with a raised eyebrow, “go. I can take it from here.”

But Steve didn’t move. Instead, he watched his friend closely, picking up on every little moment of tension in his face. Then he sat up straight, facing his friend more head-on. “Bucky, what happened to you back there?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“When I found you in that ditch, you were panicking over something.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened around his rifle ever so slightly before he let out a small huff. “Well, I almost did die after killing a small army by myself,” he said teasingly, though his frost-blue eyes didn’t find it funny. “You expected me to be laughing and smiling?”

“I expected you to be scared. Not…frantically looking around for something.” Steve tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What were you looking for, exactly?”

Bucky hesitated as his lips suddenly sealed themselves shut. This was Steve, his best friend of almost two decades. A man he considered his brother since the day he saw him—a scrawny kid defending his baby sister, Annie, from a group of bullies. He was his family, and the two never kept secrets from one another—never tried to hide anything crucial to their lives.

And yet, his lips were tight.

With a soft breath, Bucky smiled and shook his head. “I think I was just losing my mind earlier. I mean, the whole thing was overwhelming. That bomb launcher—whatever it was—thing that the HYDRA soldier was using? Almost got me multiple times.”

But it didn’t, because you pushed him out of the way and got burned—

“You just caught me at a bad time, Steve.” He squeezed his best friend’s shoulder with a gentle smile. “I swear. I’m fine.”

Steve gazed at him for another moment before finally nodding. “Alright. But the moment you get tired—”

“I’ll come and get you. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

The two chuckled together before Steve waved him goodnight, walking away to get some rest. The moment Bucky saw the super-soldier disappear into the tent, he let out a trembling breath and slumped his shoulders. He looked straight ahead, keeping an eye out for any suspicious movements while his mind continued to race.

He didn’t know how much time had gone by before he glanced down, staring at his palms that were lightly covered in dirt.

There should’ve been blood. Your blood—

He rolled his hands into fists and shook his head, turning his attention back to the woods. But no matter how much he tried to focus on spotting unusual activity, he kept thinking about the mysterious woman who appeared out of thin air and vanished into nothing.

There had been rumors as to what HYDRA was using as their power source—a magical artifact forged by gods, capable of destroying worlds upon worlds. Bucky first found the rumors ridiculous, saying that they didn’t live in a fantasy. But once he faced a weapon that shot blasts powerful enough to cause explosions, he began to think otherwise.

Maybe magic was real. 

Maybe gods really did exist.

Maybe…angels did too.

Were you his angel? More specifically, his guardian angel?

Otherwise, how could you have saved him twice?

Bucky sighed, staring up at the night sky as if you were going to float down from heaven, wearing wings gifted by the gods. You weren’t wearing wings earlier that day, but you did wear a necklace that felt like a magical artifact to him.

“Rose…” he whispered to himself, remembering the little flower and inscription etched into the locket, longing to hold the jewelry and its owner again.

Slowly, Bucky turned his head to stare at the tent, where no one had moved since Steve went inside. His eyes were locked on it for a while, and eventually, he let out a deep breath.

It felt wrong to lie to Steve—to not mention your presence once. After all, it wasn’t just Bucky who was at your side in Brooklyn, crying for you to stay awake as you bled out on the street. Steve had been there too, yelling for somebody—anybody—to call for help before it was too late. They both watched you get carried into the ambulance and together learned that you had died before you reached the hospital.

Your name was Sherry.

And then Steve watched him fall to the floor, sobbing for it was his fault that someone was dead, and then joined him too. Both grieved for the woman they barely knew, yet had done so much for them.

And you did so much again: dying in the mountains to save Bucky’s life.

Bucky looked away from the tent, his throat tight with sorrow and eyes watering at the thought of the blood coating your body both times. And then he sighed.

He never kept anything from Steve, but he decided then that he wouldn’t tell him about you.

At least, not yet. 

Maybe just for a little while, Bucky could allow himself to have you be his…

…And only his.

<><><>

You blinked, and blinked, and…

God, this was so annoying.

You let out the most exasperated groan before turning away from the shelves, where empty spaces lived at the top for the books against your chest. Your eyes drifted onto the broken ladder as you dropped the stack of novels onto the front desk, and then you pinched the bridge of your nose to push down your frustration. You really needed a ladder again, but you had been so frazzled by your current life that you hadn’t looked into a handyman or looked up brand-new rolling ladders. Some regulars had recommended getting a standard, metal ladder when noticing your broken one, and while you appreciated your customers’ concern and support…

A metal ladder would be so fucking ugly in your store.

As it was a weekday, there hadn’t been many people walking through your store—so much so that you let Mandy go home early for the day, letting her work on her novel in peace. You leaned against the desk with your phone in your hand, finally scrolling through a page of beautiful ladders, but also so expensive that you visibly winced at the prices. After a few minutes, you dropped your head onto your arm, grumbling at the countertop at how cruel the modern world was with overpricing everything.

Then the front door swung open, and you looked up to see a familiar face.

Your chest tightened, but you put on a small smile. “Hi, Bucky.”

He waved at you, looking around to see that you two were the only ones present. He paused briefly, a little flustered by the silence in the store, but then carried on to the front with a tiny grin. “Hi.”

“Back so soon, huh?” You stood up straight, a little bit tense in the shoulders, but carrying on like everything was normal between you and him. “What brings you here?”

He glanced around, eyes slightly heavy. “Came to buy another book.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, you didn’t like the one you got yesterday?”

“I did like it. I already finished it.”

“You…” You blinked back. “You finished it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…? Why?”

“It was eight hundred pages.”

“I read fast.”

“Clearly. Well…” You crossed your arms, and despite wanting to be as distant as possible, you couldn’t help but ask about his opinion. “What did you think of it? Gotta admit, I was a bit surprised when you picked horror.”

He lightly smiled. “Why? Don’t seem like the horror kind?”

“I don’t know, honestly.”

He then chuckled, and the sound stopped you in your tracks.

You found yourself in the Smithsonian, sitting in front of the black-and-white video that played footage of Captain America and his best friend. You watched the two men laugh, smiling at each other as brothers who couldn’t be separated by death itself. And after watching that video for hours, you told yourself that one day, you would see Bucky laugh.

You gazed at him chuckling in front of you, and it felt like you were getting a warm hug. Slowly, you felt your face becoming warm, and you crossed your arms tightly across your chest.

But there was no pain in your heart.

“I’m not picky with books,” Bucky continued. “I did like it, especially with how well the twist was written. I did have to look up a few things while reading, though. Sometimes the characters would interact with something, and I’d have no idea what it is.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” he frowned, trying to remember. “A Game Boy?”

Suddenly, you let out a laugh of your own, surprising both you and Bucky. You quickly stifled it, your cheeks getting hotter as you cleared your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

But he continued to gaze at you before grinning, his heart bouncing from the fact that he—an ex-assassin who was socially awkward—made you laugh. 

He really did miss that sound.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. I mean, I did miss a lot in the past few decades.” He then shifted a bit closer to you, leaning against the counter. “Did you have a Game Boy?”

You shook your head with a small smile. “I’m not much of a gamer. Always liked to read more than anything else.”

He hummed before catching the stack of books from earlier in his sight. Turning his head, he examined the books before gesturing at them. “Are those for sale?”

You nodded. “They are. They actually belong up…”

Bucky followed where you were pointing, staring at the top shelves on the far right side of the store. His eyes then fell onto the broken ladder. “Figured out what you’re doing with that yet?”

“Not really, no.” You softly sighed. 

His eyes lingered on the ladder a second longer than you expected before he looked back at the stack of books. Then he stepped closer to them, inspecting the titles with curiosity. “Can I buy one of these?”

You blinked. “You barely even looked at them.”

“I don’t really know what books are good these days,” he said, grabbing one from the top of the stack. “Taking my chances.”

“You could always look up some book recommendations online,” you suggested. “There are hundreds of people who give amazing recommendations.”

He shrugged. “Sure, but from what I’ve seen so far…the internet is a nightmare. A lot of bad takes, idiots, and weird videos. Honestly, I think society is screwed.”

At that, you ended up laughing gently, finding the truth in his words refreshing, while Bucky looked up at you in awe. The way you laughed wasn’t the most familiar, but the lightness behind it erased a bit of the darkness within your eyes.

And your smile? He hadn’t seen it so genuine in a while. At least, not without tears in your eyes, and he adored that so much.

Slowly smiling, Bucky shoved away the temptation to ask you about your past—to sneakily dig into who “Avery” was—and raised the book towards you. “Can I?”

With a nod, you grabbed the book and rang it up while he watched you with a careful gaze. When you looked back at him, you didn’t feel like you were being interrogated or analyzed with his eyes—he was gazing at you with his heart on full display.

You passed the novel back to him with another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said, slipping the book underneath his left arm. “I’ll see you around.”

You waved at him. “Bye, Bucky.”

And when he opened the door and stepped out, he looked into the store, lingering just for a heartbeat before disappearing from your view. You continued to stand still, staring at where he was before letting your hand drop to your side. As much as you wanted to avoid Bucky—to stay reserved and be only “Avery” to him—you enjoyed seeing him in your store.

For once, he was just a person.

He wasn’t a man forced to be a killer, or a soldier whose humanity was burned away with electric shocks, or an assassin who broke for a mission without acknowledging his pain.

He was just your customer, living every day with an interest in books and a dry sense of humor.

After everything you’d seen him go through, it was nice to see him be so…human.

The complicated ache slowly seeped into your chest again, and you exhaled, setting a hand on the stack of books that was now one novel shorter.

<><><>

“So, there’s a war over resources too?” you asked, holding a coffee cup to your lips as Mandy frantically nodded.

“Yeah. But not only that—” she flailed her arms around in excitement, “the civilians slowly find out that they’ve been lied to, and that the government is rewriting history in real-time and silently erasing memories of what they already knew. So, in the end, what’s real and not real?”

You set the cup down with a wide grin. “You’re really thinking this through, huh?”

“I’m trying to worldbuild as much as I can. Shit, I just love it so much,” she giggled. “Sometimes, I just wanna work on worldbuilding and not have to worry about the plot at all. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You shook your head, ready to tease back right when the front door opened. You both turned to see Bucky walking once again.

But this time, you didn’t feel as anxious as before.

If anything…

Fuck. Were you excited?

You gave him a small wave. “Back again?”

Mandy glanced at you with a confused look while he nodded, his hands in his jacket pockets as usual. “Yeah. Looking for another book.”

“Another already? Did you finish the one from yesterday?” You raised an eyebrow, doubtful.

“Yeah,” he replied as if anybody could start and finish a seven-hundred-page novel in one sitting.

Mandy tilted her chin up. “Oh, which book?”

“Cosmo. Some psychological thriller.” He then made a face. “Very predictable, though.”

You bit your lip, your stomach churning a little bit. “Sorry.”

He turned to you, perplexed. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t pick the book.”

“Still, it was from the pile I had.”

He lightly shook his head, offering a small smile. “It’s fine. Bad writing is necessary. It helps people get better at storytelling.”

Mandy snorted. “Wow. Wise words, Sergeant Barnes.”

He laughed, making your heart do cartwheels with squeals. “I’m just saying whatever. And, Bucky is fine.”

Before you knew it, a smile was already on your face. Though you could see that he was still a little bit guarded, Bucky carried less weight on his shoulders, smiling at Mandy, who was still giggling at his words.

He should be questioning you. He should be staring you down.

But when he glanced over and met your eyes, you could only curl your lips more.

He gave you a quick nod and wandered off to the aisles, and you watched him until he disappeared from your sight. Mandy was watching both of you—the way he acknowledged you gently before leaving, and how you kept your eyes on him. You jumped when she nudged your side, and when you faced her, she had the biggest smirk plastered on her face.

“I’m just saying…” she started, voice so quiet that Bucky possibly couldn’t hear even with his super-soldier hearing, “he’s fine as fuck.”

She giggled when you lightly hit her arm. “Stop it,” you said, though she could see your face getting flushed.

“Hey, it’s a fact. Also…” She winked at you as she stepped away from the front desk. “You didn’t disagree with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but then your gaze fell to the floor as her words sank deeper into your heart. 

It was true.

Bucky was beautiful.

Letting out a sigh, you stepped away from the front desk as well, resorting to walking around and see if any customer needed assistance or recommendations. You roamed the aisles, telling customers that you were around if they needed help. Eventually, you decided to go look at the broken ladder and see if there was any way to fix the issue yourself.

But when you turned a corner, you stumbled back upon seeing those familiar, frost-blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, flustered that you almost ran directly into him.

But Bucky didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he raised a book towards you, the cover in full display. “Have you read this one?”

You took a look and nodded. “I have, actually. It’s a bit…intense.”

“What’s it about?”

“About a couple trying to survive a war. It was set during…uh…” you briefly hesitated, “World War II.”

“Oh.” Bucky blinked before pulling the book back to him, flipping it over to read the back.

As he focused on the novel, your eyes drifted to the side of his face—right where you had felt raised skin numerous times. But when you looked at his temple this time, there were some scars, but they were so faint that only someone who knew what he went through would notice. They weren't fresh or red, or actively stinging his mind at the moment.

They were remnants of his past, but also evidence that he survived.

After a moment, Bucky hummed and slipped the book underneath his arm. “I guess I won’t need to look up things as much this time,” he said, attempting to joke.

And the joke did somehow land, as it immediately took you out of the harsh memories of touching those scars. It made you lightly chuckle, relieved that he could still joke about exactly what he survived.

When the rhythm in your chest faded away, you glanced at the book under his arm and slightly widened your eyes from spotting another one. “Are you getting two books?”

“Might as well. I read too fast, apparently.”

“Were you always an avid reader?”

He paused, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. But just as quickly, he gave you a grin.

“I’m just trying to pick up on reading again,” he explained. “I read a lot when I was younger. Used to have a book collection so big, my mom begged me to slow down on reading or sell my books.”

“What did you do?”

“Neither. I was a rebellious kid.”

You let out a giggle. “Most rebellious kids tend to break stuff or yell at their parents. I don’t think reading is too bad.”

“It can be…” he smirked, “when your books end up underneath your parents’ bed without them knowing.”

“Are you serious?”

“I was running out of room.”

You both shared a laugh as he followed you to the front desk, where he passed his books to you. Once again, your fingers brushed against his, and it was just enough contact for your mind to start reeling to another life—a life you imagined for you and James, where you two could just live.

Not die. Not survive.

Just live.

But, even though you weren’t living out this imaginary life, seeing Bucky doing something normal—picking out books and chatting with others—made you wonder if it was possible to make your dream real.

You always told yourself you didn’t want to get hurt again… But what hurt more? Avoiding Bucky, or accepting him?

You didn’t know, but you did know something else.

As you watched Bucky leave your store with two books in his hand, a small part of you wished that it was you who was within his grasp.

<><><>

You tripped over your feet as you stepped into the bookstore, cursing under your breath for barely catching yourself. The afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow on your store, but all it did for you was make the dull ache in your head worse. Your head still throbbed despite taking painkillers and staying in bed all morning—even the murmur felt overwhelming compared to the silence in your apartment.

It would be nice if the world would stop punishing you. It’s been over five years since you tried to—

Mandy, who was ringing up a customer, glanced up from the counter and gave you a quick wave with a smile that was tinted with worry. You smiled back, silently assuring her that you were okay, and walked past her to the back room where you dropped off your bag. You gently pulled down your sleeves to your wrist, careful not to show off any of the scars on your skin, and stepped back out into the rest of the store.

You moved a bit slower than usual, still feeling the headache lingering in your body, and were walking to the front desk when the door opened.

You paused, locking eyes with Bucky once again, and blinked as he immediately made his way towards you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

Well. Maybe you were.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice soft.

“Hi,” you replied just as softly, then you raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t show up yesterday.”

“You noticed, huh?” he said, a smile slowly creeping onto his face.

“Couldn’t help it.” You shifted on your feet. “You got good timing, though. I just got here too.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, standing up straighter as he crossed his arms. “Now? Late start, today?”

“Had to. Woke up with a terrible headache,” you explained lightly. “I couldn’t get up for a while.”

Then, you froze at the frown that appeared on his face, as it was full of the kind of concern a person would have for someone they’d known for so long. “Are you okay?”

Your heart stuttered at his sudden change in tone, your fingers twitching at the gentleness he carried. You slowly nodded, unable to fully process this side of him. “I’m okay. I just get bad headaches sometimes.”

He nodded but still watched you closely.

What was happening?

Every day he came in, you expected him to try to get the truth out of you. You always waited for the questions—the fire behind his eyes as he tried to get you to admit that you were indeed Rose—but instead, he’d walked in like someone who hadn’t lost someone important. 

But this was Bucky. This was James Bucky Barnes. 

This was your James. The man you had saved again and again, and in return, had made you feel alive too. This was the man who had lost you ten years ago but was now acting like what you two had didn't exist.

Did…Did he give up on you?

Why…

Why did that feel more painful?

Clearing your throat, you changed the conversation. “Are you taking your chances today, or are you looking for something in particular?”

“Actually, I’m looking for something specific. My friend’s nephew’s been obsessed with a certain genre that I think I want to try.”

“Which is?”

Bucky paused, meeting your eyes directly as he replied, “Modern fantasy. Like…stories set in the real world, but have people with strange powers.”

Your breath hitched.

Okay, fuck, maybe he didn’t give up on you.

Was this intentional? Was he somehow talking about you—a cursed, immortal being hiding amongst people who’d never know that she was older than their great-grandparents? Or maybe you were reading too far into it. In a way, the world today was a modern fantasy; people like Doctor Strange and Thor walked around like it was a normal occurrence now. Maybe Bucky was being honest, interested in learning why his friend’s nephew was obsessed with this particular genre.

Hopefully, that was all it was.

“Fantasy is over there.” You pointed to your left. “We have a section specific on modern fantasy. Towards the right side of the aisle.”

“Got it. Thanks,” he said before making his way to those novels. 

You carefully watched him walk away, wondering if he would turn around at any second to confront you about avoiding the truth again. But he didn’t and vanished behind the shelves. You let out a sigh and walked to the front desk, joining Mandy, who greeted you with a smirk.

You tilted your head at her. “What?”

“You both arrived at the same time.”

You rolled your eyes. “Really? It was a coincidence.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her lips getting more mischievous. “I think it’s destiny.”

“Destiny isn’t real.”

“Whatever. Hey, you know what’s real for sure, though?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Just how fine Bucky is—”

“Mandy, please,” you groaned, putting a hand over your face. “You keep reminding me.”

“And you never deny it.”

You gave her a pointed look, but that only made her laugh just in time for Bucky to return with two books in his gloved hands. Your eyes briefly landed on his gloves before meeting his gaze, and you took the novels from him to ring them up.

Mandy looked over and gasped. “Oh, I love that book. That’s a good one.” She tapped on one of them. “You’re in for a real treat.”

He smiled at her but didn’t say anything back. Once you handed him the books, he turned to leave.

But then, he stopped.

With a quiet breath, he turned around again to face you, and you could see the concern in his eyes—gentle and certain—as he offered you a grin.

“Feel better soon,” he said.

It was a simple phrase, and yet it shook you because there he was, looking at you like someone who mattered.

You were always the one who died, just so that someone else could carry on with their life. That was your role, wasn’t it? To possess the curse that would never give you an ending. It was the life you hated, but one you accepted a long time ago.

But hearing someone—hearing him hope that you were going to be okay…that you would feel better soon, made you feel more cared for than you ever had.

And the fact that he had every single right to despise you for lying to him—whether he really knew it was you or not—and he was still kind to you, it made you want to cry.

You were close to doing so, but you swallowed the emotions down with a forceful smile. “Thank you,” you responded, voice steady but heart shaking.

He nodded and walked away, and just like before, you carefully watched him step out of the store. He was gone, but his presence still stuck with you.

<><><>

Of course, you had spilled your cup of tea all over the floor when you heard the front door open. You were wiping the wooden floors of the drink that you grieved over when the door swung closed and footsteps echoed. But as you were hiding behind the front desk, the footsteps faltered, sounding a little bit unsure of where to go before you looked up and found those favorite frost-blue eyes of yours.

You stood up straight, tossing the paper towel away as Bucky walked in with a small, steel box and a wooden board. He offered you a gentle smile, standing a bit shy with his belongings. “Hi. Didn’t see you there.”

“I was wiping the floor. I spilled my drink all over the floor, unfortunately,” you explained. You then peeked at the wooden board in his hand before looking back at his face. “Here to buy another book?”

“Thought it was obvious by now.”

“Sure, but I think it’s still amazing to see you read so fast. I mean, you bought five, six novels in just the past few days.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not much to do these days, and I feel like I have a lot to catch up on.”

You hummed before gesturing at the toolbox. “What’s with these?”

“Oh… Well, uh…” He cleared his throat, and you could see that… Wait…

Was he blushing right now?

“I was wondering if you wanted your ladder fixed. I…” He lifted his toolbox a bit as if you hadn’t already been staring at it. “I brought some stuff. To…you know, fix…things.”

You stared. Wow, he was terrible at this. But he was cute—

Hold on. Fix what?

You lightly shook your head before tilting it. “You know how to fix ladders?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And, uh, I brought this.” He lifted the wooden board, already sanded and polished in the same color as your ladder. “I measured your rung the other day—that’s what the step is called—and made this. I think it should fit well.”

“You…made me a replacement?” You widened your eyes in shock.

“Tried to, at least. We’ll see how well I did,” he replied.

No. This wasn’t how it should be.

He should be angry. Demanding answers. Forcing you to come clean about who you truly were. Why wasn’t he asking? Why did he let it all go so quickly?

And why was he so determined to fix your ladder?

You didn’t ask him to. He never even mentioned that he was planning on doing this. He just saw that you were frustrated over something as silly as a broken ladder and decided to do something about it. The man who never had a choice in his life—who had no control over his actions for over seventy years—was choosing to do this for you.

Your heart skipped.

Shifting around, you crossed your arms and cleared your throat. “Well… I don’t see why not. Go ahead.”

He gave you a grin that only made your heart leap again and walked towards the back without another word. You could only stand there, stunned by his actions and how nonchalant he was acting, before quickly leaving the front desk and finding customers to talk to—anything to distract yourself from the warmth you felt.

Unfortunately, no one had a question or concern for you, and there weren’t many people around to begin with, so you slowly made your way back to the front desk, waiting for someone to approach you. But as you settled, you began to notice the sounds of tools hitting against a wooden structure, and curiosity slowly seeped into your body.

Since when did Bucky know how to fix ladders of all things?

Unable to hold yourself back, you went straight to the back of the store where you left the ladder, and when you turned the corner, you froze. Bucky was kneeling beside the ladder, gently wiping down the dust of the new rung he had already finished installing. It was perfectly aligned with the rest, colored just the same, so no one would ever know this was a different piece made by an ex-assassin.

What shocked you the most, however, was how unbothered Bucky looked, as if this was a regular activity for him.

You approached him and he looked up to see your wide eyes. “You finished it?”

He nodded while standing up, wiping the dust off his gloves. “It wasn’t difficult. It’s safe to use now.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked immediately after, unable to comprehend this hidden skill of his.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your dumbfounded expression. “My dad used to hate buying new things. Always said that if we can fix it, then we fix it. I helped him a lot, especially when our neighbors would ask us for favors.”

There was something about the way he spoke softly, reminiscing about the time that was so far away now, while the smell of wood lingered between you that made this moment so unguarded, warm, and…

Real.

He was real, right in front of you, and you realized how much you needed that.

You felt happy, and it wasn’t the kind that came and went—the kind that existed only for a moment. The happiness that settled in your chest was deep because even after everything—all the pain, torture, and tears—the man before you was still capable of gentleness that was so light that it felt like a whisper against your skin. Barely there, but steady, and maybe…wanting more.

You softly smiled, your shoulders no longer tense. “Thank you.”

Bucky looked at you and, just for a second, he forgot about everything else.

Yes, he didn’t believe that you weren’t Rose, but the way you smiled felt like you weren’t hiding anything. You were no longer wary—you were open and kind in a way that felt rare these days.

And that smile.

He wanted to engrave it into his memories, just like the name in the locket he wore.

With a smile, Bucky nodded. “You’re welcome.”

A silence formed between you two, but it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense or nerve-wracking. 

It was nice.

This was nice.

You let out a soft breath, glancing at the ladder again before gesturing to the rest of the store. “You’re getting a book for free.”

Immediately, Bucky’s eyes went wide. “What? No, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” you interrupted, your stubbornness coming into play.

“But…” He slightly grimaced. “It doesn’t feel right. I didn’t do this to get repaid or anything.”

“Then consider it as a gift,” you suggested before letting out a small laugh. “You didn’t let me give you a free book for catching me. This is the least I could do.”

Still, he opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it once again. “Bucky, come on. Let me do this, okay? You can either pick a book, or I can recommend one for you. So, just…” You smiled again. “Tell me what to do.”

Suddenly, all the fight in Bucky disappeared.

You blinked to see no weight on his shoulders, but you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes—something off. You paused, confused by his reaction, but he just smiled back at you and replied. “You can pick.”

For a moment, you didn’t move, because what was that?

But rather than linger on something that maybe wasn’t even real, you walked to the thriller section while he followed you closely from behind. You scanned the novels and spotted one of your favorites, so you pulled it off the shelves and held it up to him.

He took it from you, grinning at the cover. “Looks interesting.”

“It’s a really good thriller. Better than Cosmo, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he said, looking up at you.

And when you met his eyes, your breath got caught in your throat. Just for a fleeting moment, there was a sadness in his eyes—the ache that you had seen the day he came to apologize to you. Despite how calm the last few days had been, it was clear that he still longed for someone he swore he would never leave again.

Pain scratched at your heart, but you pushed the feeling down and forced out a smile. “Thank you for the ladder.”

He returned the grin, and you couldn’t even tell if it was forced or not. “You’re welcome.”

Then you both lightly jumped at the sound of his phone buzzing, caught off guard in the quiet moment. Bucky reached for it and glanced at the screen, and you instantly saw how quickly the warmth in his eyes vanished as he picked up the call. 

“Hey, man,” he greeted, his voice serious. His eyes were sharp, and it reminded you of when you had seen him as the Winter Soldier—when his gaze could pierce through anyone as he completed his mission. 

You watched him listen to whoever he was calling, and how his eyebrows furrowed. “When? What— Now?” Then he let out a deep breath through his nose and shook his head. “Got it. I’ll meet you in thirty. Bye.”

He turned off his phone, and the way his posture was so tight now made you worried. You shifted on your feet and tried to lighten the mood. “Got somewhere urgent to be?”

Bucky met your gaze again and nodded. “Yeah. I have to go. Thank you for the book.”

“It’s no problem. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I think I will.” He smiled at you with a wave. “I’ll see you around.”

You waved back. “Bye, Bucky.”

Within a few seconds, Bucky was gone. The way he picked up his steps just as he left your store made you wonder exactly who and what he had to leave so quickly for. You slowly dropped your hand to your side, eyes still glued on the front door. 

Who knew how long you stood there?

Finally, after letting out a soft breath, you turned around to go look at the ladder again, tempted to try it now. But when you left one of the aisles and looked over, you widened your eyes to see an open steel box sitting right beside it.

“Shit,” you murmured, crouching beside it and gathering the tools into the box. “What do I…”

The words on your tongue vanished when you glanced up, directly staring at the newly installed rung. With a gentle touch, you glided your hand over the piece and even gave it a little wiggle, finding that it didn’t budge at all. Clasping the toolbox shut, you stood up with it and carefully—maybe a bit nervously—stepped onto the ladder. You lingered there and couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

Maybe you still couldn’t believe that the James you’d been saving all these years was a carpenter in disguise.

You stepped off the ladder, pleased by its new look, and walked to the back room with the toolbox. Surely, he’d come back tomorrow. You’d just give him the tools then.

And as much as you hated it…

You couldn’t wait to see him.

<><><>

The wind rushed through Bucky’s hair as snow whirled around his feet, the rocky ledge getting restless just like the team. He carefully stepped closer to the edge of the cliff, staring down at the frozen train tracks where he would go next. Without turning to the man next to him, his lips curled upward as he spoke, “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

“Yeah, and I threw up?” Steve responded, eyes locked onto the tracks below.

Bucky nodded, the wind continuing to tackle his skin. “This isn’t payback, is it?”

Steve lightly grinned. “Now, why would I do that?”

Bucky chuckled just as Gabe began to speak, telling the team that Dr. Zola was indeed on the speeding train. The moment he made the confirmation, the Howling Commandos moved with certainty, grabbing weapons and handlebars for the zip line. Within minutes, the train came into view, and Bucky swiftly followed Steve, soaring through the air as he kept a firm grip on his bar. He landed on the train, hands stung by the frozen surface, before he carefully walked behind Steve, keeping his body low to the cart.

And when Steve began to descend the ladder, Bucky looked straight ahead, only able to see trees decorated in snow and nothing else. He then glanced down, gulping at just how high up they were in the mountains, but then shoved his fear away before stepping down the ladder.

Just before he jumped into the cart, he paused, closing his eyes and feeling the wind and snow blow past him.

It was just so cold, but a thought warmed his heart.

Maybe…maybe his guardian angel would protect him today too.

He opened his eyes and leaped into the train, raising his weapon as he silently trailed behind his best friend.

Who knew that you wouldn’t protect him this time? That he would still end up falling because of a loose, broken support, and be unlucky enough to survive as HYDRA’s only successful experiment? He had hoped that you would save him when he struggled to reach for his friend, and only watched his life flash before his eyes as he disappeared into the snow.

But despite all that, he still didn’t let go of this hope.

As Bucky wheezed in the snow, bones broken and left arm missing, feeling his life slowly leave him, he waited for you. And he continued to wait. Through all the torture and missions, he waited for you.

And he longed for you so much that even though HYDRA had successfully turned him into their weapon, the man trapped inside still lived on.

And it was that man, recovering from poisonous powder, who stared at your locket and realized that his guardian angel had come back.

Despite being the one to kill you that evening at the museum, you still saved his life. And as you died in front of him, for the first time in fifteen years, he remembered that he was something more than just a weapon.

Someone named James.

Someone who knew what love was.

NEXT CHAPTER >

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Thanks for reading :)

[doberbutts]

So for bitework, what's the hardest part about it?

Also please tell your dogs that the internet loves them and that they are good bbys

I told Fenris because he's sitting in my lap and he licked the entire way up my face.

Outside of sourcing the dog itself, which can be an adventure because many dogs are simply not a good fit for the work, the hardest part is balancing control vs freedom imo.

Something that my IGP club back in Maryland kept commenting on was that I put too much obedience and too much control on Creed. He was trained from the start to be my service dog, with sports as a secondary, so I made sure I trained him in a way that I would have tight, tight control over him every move. He did well with this role and I have no complaints there- but it did mean that when the service vest came off and he was allowed to just be, he often was still looking and waiting for direction from me before he would do pretty much anything. The amount of times I turned him out in the yard and he would just stand a couple feet away from me staring at me rather than doing literally anything else- he had all control programmed into him from a very young age.

Which also means that when I sent him for a bite, he would gladly run down the field and fly into the bite, but he always had a habit of wanting to keep an eye on me and what I might do or say next. He could not fully lose himself to the struggle between him and the decoy because he was glancing over his shoulder to make sure this was an approved activity and that I wasn't about to recall him. Wonderful display of obedience and willingness to work... but it does mean that teaching him to actually commit to the fight was more difficult, because he was constantly waiting for "aus" and "fuss" to be called.

This was very reactionary of me- prior to Creed, my first doberman Skoll was very uncontrolled. Skoll- to our best guess- had some sort of neurological problem whether caused by trauma or genetics, and could not be trusted at all. He had been viciously abused, ended up in a court case (and I still have those documents on my bookshelf!), and finally came to me as a last stop before euthanasia. He would have these fits of uncontrolled aggression, where he would freeze in the middle of a room or mid-step on a walk, and then attack anything that moved in front of him. Our vet was fairly convinced it was a seizure disorder called Rage, more commonly found in cocker or springer spaniels than dobermans, but also not unheard of in any breed. I also knew a labrador that had Rage with similar symptoms as a child, though we didn't know to call it that at the time. Dogs also can have a form of PTSD, so it is also possible that these fits were traumatic flashbacks.

Because Skoll was not safe, and no amount of training could make him safe, when he died and I got Creed, I made sure to do everything in my power to ensure Creed would be safe. But, Creed did not have a neurological disorder or any sort of psychological trauma, and so all the control I put on him became detrimental to his bitework even if it was instrumental to his service work.

This is actually why I deliberately separated the service work I needed (Sushi) from the sport I wanted (Fenris) into two different dogs. I then allowed Fenris to run wild in my house for approximately 6 - 8 months, only teaching him the bare minimum manners and obedience to keep him relatively safe to walk around the city and take to work with me, and it's why he's a bit of a wild child even nowadays. By the time Fenris started seeing me start to tighten his obedience skills and expectations, he had already seen a decoy several times and knew that bitework time was a time to fully commit himself to the joy of biting the fuck out of A Guy, rather than glancing over his shoulder to wait for my next command.

It does, however, have the drawback that occasionally I need a second command for him to actually do what I want, which I don't love and which will lose us points. So it certainly is a balancing act- Creed would do whatever I asked on a dime, but it means he was not fully committed. Fenris commits immediately, but that means he needs a reminder occasionally when he's having fun that I am asking him to do something.

I actually did something similar with Phoebe during the short time I had her- her training sessions were mostly about being happy and confident, and then she could go a bit wild with her tug once she understood that she was indeed allowed to bite and tug on it. I think, with time, she might have been able to do some low level club trials, but her temperament was very soft and her confidence was so low that I'm not sure she would have been able to go very far.

[uneatenclient]

murderbot tv show ep 5 reactions/spoilers under cut. i fucking love mb

oh? flashback?

goddddd it said "i'm sorry" before shooting itself last time i'm still soooo

'this thing is heavy' 'IT'S NOT A THING IT'S A PERSON' 'yes i know' ratthi 🤝 arada being firm on mb's personhood even under pressure

omg they're all so worried LITERALLY ALL OF THEM ARE ON THE VERGE OF CRYING

THERE'S TOO PURE ARADA FOR MY BINGO BOARD

holy fucking shit arada lmfao

but ugh. UGH. i don't want her here. the dynamic!! give it back!!

maybe i'll be lucky and it'll show how close they are by comparison? plz

omfg 'not unless you're stupid enough to do the thing you're doing right now. [biggest sigh] idiots'

we're one step closer to 'my idiots' and i cannot fucking wait

uh. guys. maybe. dont?

WHAT

bharadwaj???

not pin-lee and gurathin??? WHY THO

oh jeez

this is such pure corporate indoctrination. presaux just looking at each other like uhhhhhh

i should count how many times mb calls its humans stupid in this ep i think its 3 so far let me look

—

'despite my best efforts'

i'm reacting all over again every time i watch the eps i find something new and great

'fix me? why'd i even bother to shoot myself?'

oh that shot was fucking gross how did i miss that before

GOD THAT ACTRESS DID SOMETHING W ARADA'S VOICE THERE AND IT'S SO FUNNY AND REAL AT THE SAME TIME

yep stupid and then idiots ok 2 so far hello again intro

there's 3

"yeah that was preeetty heroic" i fucking love you mb have i said that recently

oh dear

TERRIBLE SHOW

how does no one know they have faces

HOW IS SHE SO MUCH WORSE THAN THE TEAM SAYING IT HAD A NICE FACE GET ME OUT OF HEEEREEE

also what adult says pee-pee

the fucking expressions on everyone's faces

WHAT

RATTHI

RATTHI OH MY FUCKING GOD

YOU SIGNED THIS THING TODAY?? YESTERDAY???

'okay this part was actually kind of entertaining' it fucking hates relationship drama AND gratitude but humans embarassing themselves? funny

ratthi's fucking forehead bruise

'this secunit it our friend' 'eh. debatable'

oh my god. ratthi with one banger after another this ep lmfaooo

MB PLEASE

i should count the sarcastic bitching as calling them stupid tbh we'd be up to 6 or 7

'oh n— hes gonna do it? he looks way too into this' botfucker confirmed?? ignore me

'nice'

'looking at their hopeful faces, i was glad i didnt murder them' camera/eyes shoot to lbb 'mostly

plz pin gurathing to the wall plz pin gura

ITS CRUCIAL TO MY ENJOYMENT OF THE STORY

the clearing of throat fucking hell

'uh oh' 'UH OH'

PLZ PIN GURATHIN

she agrees with me completely

BHARADWAJ AFTER ALL I DID FOR YOU

'i don't agree with gurathin' 'HA!' help meeee

gurathin's fucking face

SO UNFAIR

SECCY

FUICKING HELP ME

oh?

oh? the scene?

PLEASE

'i don't watch that crap' [deathglare]

OH MY GOD THEY EXPANDED ON IT THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

the scene PLEASE PLEASE

holy fuck

holy fuck that was so fast??

THANK YOU FOR MAKING MB THE BADASS IT SHOULD BE

FUCK I KNEW I COULD TRUST MARTHA WELLS

did it fucking have its energy weapon ready to shoot him?? was that why the thing on its arm glowed yellow???

dude. 'i don't know what i would've done if she hadn't kept it calm' much? you would've fried his fucking brain?? badass tbh you deserve a crash out after living like this so long

sad it didn't add the 'but the others like you, and i like them' bit but i'll get over it

it has to admit it eventually

so completely avoiding eye contact

gurathin is so fed up. this is bringing back so much cr bullshit i can feel it. i bet everyone in the room could feel it. i absolutely get it godddd poor dude

that's the gurathin character arc i want not the fucking. mensah obsession. ugh

he fucking calls her mensah when he's mad but ayda when he's worried

god. mensah saying all that is WAY harder to believe seeing it than it was reading/listening to it. probably because everyone is much less well-behaved in the show

GET EM MB

yeah i fucking bet she was

IT'S EXPRESSING ITS WANTS SO FAST. FUCK YEAH YOU GO MB

gurathin and mb are such two sides of the same coin

you question her so much gura. the same way mb does tbh but it does it internally

oh no

oh no oh no

stop

don't make me watch this

stoppp

at least she's trying?????

LMFAO

NO OH GOD

IT'S FUCKING FACE

NEVER BEEN MORE SCANDALIZED OR HORRIFIED IN ITS EXISTENCE

HORRILIZED

the performance reliability tanking i'm fjkahdjsjdj

'first among the equals' is fascinating

awwww

OH COME ON

absolutely did that on purpose it was so insistent lmfao

the pout and crossed arms

they're so fyucking similar what am i gonna dooo

stop no

don't be weird

ohhhh he's mean he probably likes her less than secunit at this point

i do love him if i ignore the elephant we haven't come back to anyway

omg she's making it deal with family stories and oh nooo she couldn't possibly have a favorite

oh my fuck

'cuz most humans are greedy bastards' THIS BITCH IN ITS REBELLIOUS TEENAGE PHASE ALLOWED TO SAY WHATEVER IT WANTS NOW

I'M FUCKING IN LOVE

AND ALSO IT'S RIGHT

aww. baby's first conversation

gosh. gosh.

interesting. foreshadowing the other beacon drama. if this doesn't turn out worse somehow

.........oh

fucking. OKAY THEN

WHAT THE SHIT

sometimes it feels like they're fucking around with the order of things but it's just that they added in so much kinda similar stuff it's like getting slapped in the face

IN A GOOD WAY

BC WAHT THE FUCK WAS THAT

i hope mensah gets it to talk about gurathin i wanna know what she'd sayyyyy

and my bingo with 1 new star