#he's not a turtleneck man but he has a few on hand just in case

[spicybeefnoodles]

dancing

summary: johnny takes bi han out clubbing

warnings: suggestive :)

Bi Han felt his eye twitch as he watched Johnny dig through his closet to find something suitable to wear. Liu Kang had ordered the assassin to bodyguard the actor because there had been some sightings of Shang Tsung across Earthrealm, but that didn’t mean Bi Han was happy about it. The actor was insolent and proud and much too boisterous to even spare Bi Han a moment of peace. Despite the threat that Shang Tsung might appear and try to harm and/or kill Johnny, the actor still wanted to go out and have a night of fun at some VIP club and would not change his stance. Something about maintaining his reputation.

Right now, Bi Han had his arms folded across his chest, a disapproving glare directed toward Johnny and an irritated scowl etched into his face as Johnny finally pulled out an outfit, a purple sleeveless turtleneck and a form-fitting skirt.

“Perfect! Now, I just gotta find something for you to wear.”

“No.” Bi Han somehow had an even deeper scowl on his face as Johnny laid out his own outfit and started to rummage through his clothes to find something for the assassin to wear.

“What do you mean no? You can’t exactly go out wearing that. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” Johnny didn’t even glance back, just moving to another part of his closet to find something a bit looser but still form-fitting.

“I am not changing.”

“You’re changing. I have an image to uphold, and your current outfit is just going to look weird in public.” Johnny retorted back, pulling out a shiny blue dress shirt and black dress pants. “Here, change into this. Bathroom’s on the right. Tell me if it’s too tight. Unless you wanna change with me.”

Johnny shot Bi Han a wink, and the assassin snatched the clothes from Johnny and hurried out of the closet into the bathroom to change, hiding the blush on his cheeks. A few moments later, he walked out of the bathroom and found Johnny sitting on the bed, his legs and arms on display. Bi Han had to avert his eyes in case he stared for too long. Despite his annoyances toward Johnny, Bi Han admittedly found the actor attractive. Johnny whistled at the sight of Bi Han.

“Looking good, grandmaster blueberry ice! But, here.” Johnny hopped off the bed and strutted over to the assassin and rolled up the sleeves of Bi Han’s shirt. The grandmaster hadn’t noticed before, but Johnny’s hands were manicured and quite soft against Bi Han’s own rough skin. Bi Han tried not to think of another scenario where Johnny’s hands would be touching him. After the actor had finished, he pat Bi Han’s arm twice before heading toward the bathroom.

“There’s food and alcohol in the kitchen, and the TV has every channel and streaming service. I gotta go and finish up my look. I’m sure you can keep yourself entertained.” Johnny disappeared into the bathroom, and Bi Han wandered around the mansion. It was decadent, overpriced and filled to the brim with objects that Bi Han couldn’t even imagine the price of. Sitting down onto the couch, which was probably worth more than everything in Bi Han’s room combined, the assassin just tried to calm himself. He could not afford to be distracted. Especially by Johnny. However, as he tried to clear his mind, images of Johnny’s slim waist, his soft lips, how he would look debauched, how good he would look with the tears running down his face, how his manicured hands would look wrapped around-

Bi Han growled and suddenly stood up, spotting the alcohol cart by the couch. Uncorking the bottle, Bi Han poured himself a generous amount of the amber liquid and tried to forget his thoughts.

After what felt like ages, Johnny finally made his way down the stairs, the tell-tale sound of heels clicking against the marbled floors. Bi Han had finished his drink by then, trying to nurse it slowly.

“Oh perfect! You’re already pre-gaming!” Johnny smiled, and Bi Han couldn’t stop his heart from lurching. The man had on red lipstick, a dark eyeshadow and perfect eyeliner. His hair was styled to perfection. He looked gorgeous. Bi Han could drop to his knees right now and worship the actor. Fortunately, Bi Han managed to stay upright and just poured a glass for Johnny.

The actor took the drink, downed it, and poked his tongue out to catch the last few drops of whiskey hanging from his lips. Bi Han turned his head away and poured himself and Johnny another glass, trying to beat down the filthy thoughts arising in his mind.

“Alright, let’s get fucked up!” Johnny clinked his glass against Bi Han’s, and they drank. When Johnny finally determined that they were drunk enough, they headed outside to the chauffeur waiting for them and sat in the car. Bi Han sat still in the car, though a red blush had started to creep its way up his neck, and Johnny was a gigging mess on the other side of the seat. After they finally arrived at the club, Johnny hooked his elbow around Bi Han’s, flashed a few pretty smiles to the press, and dragged him inside the club to the bar. There, Johnny ordered and immediately two fruity drinks with small umbrellas slid toward them.

“Let’s have fun!” Johnny handed the drink to Bi Han. While Johnny polished off the drink quickly and ordered a few shots, Bi Han was content to sip on the drink, letting the buzz of the previous alcohol pleasantly settle in his head. The actor sauntered off to the dance floor, and Bi Han couldn’t help himself but let his eyes wander up and down Johnny’s figure. The sleeveless turtleneck emphasized his muscles, and the skirt barely covered Johnny’s ass. His long and tanned legs were on display, and Bi Han couldn’t help himself from ogling the actor.

The assassin just watched for a while as Johnny danced in the club, keeping a close eye on the actor, but he felt something dark curl in his stomach when another man grabbed onto Johnny’s hips and started grinding on him. Even worse, Johnny didn’t seem to mind and simply smiled and laughed. Bi Han scowled and downed his drink, emboldened by the alcohol in his system, and walked onto the dance floor, grabbing Johnny away from the man and pressing himself flush against the actor.

“Oh, feeling jealous, are we?” Johnny wrapped his arms around Bi Han’s neck and pressed his body even closer into the grandmaster.

“Shut up and dance.” Bi Han grinded into Johnny, and the actor flashed a shit-eating grin before reciprocating Bi Han’s movements. For a few songs, they both stayed in each other’s arms, just dancing against each other, but as the alcohol fully settled into Bi Han’s body, he couldn’t help but to admire Johnny. His makeup and hair were done to emphasize his most attractive traits, and the assassin wanted to do nothing more than take the man to bed and ruin his perfect image. Bi Han found his head leaning down until their lips were only a breath apart. Johnny’s pupils were blown out and wide, a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He glanced between Bi Han’s lips and eyes, and that was all the assassin needed.

Bi Han smashed their lips together, teeth clashing painfully as they both groaned into the kiss. Johnny’s hands trailed up into Bi Han’s hair, tugging at the strands, and Bi Han dug his fingers into Johnny’s hips deep enough to leave bruises. They continued to make-out on the dance floor, not really caring that they were taking space from the other people dancing.

“Wanna-wanna get out of here?” Johnny pulled away, cheeks flushed and his lipstick smeared around his face. Bi Han was sure there were some lipstick marks on his face as well. Bi Han just dragged them both off the dance floor, and Johnny called for a cab. By the end of the night, Johnny was most definitely ruined, and Bi Han wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

[babeyvenus]

Christmas Joy

CS: Ghost gets some presents

It's Christmas.

It's supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year. Food, warmth, family time, and presents.

Christmas was very fun with your family and a lot happened, so it was a big contrast from here on base.

Of course you liked spending time with your 141 squad, but if you spent another week with them, especially when Christmas cheer was literally here, you were gonna headbutt them.

However, you got them presents anyway. Soap got a razor kit and appreciated as you noticed he loved his mohawk so much.

Gaz got a case for his missing equipment as he was known for misplacing his things sometimes.

Price got a better hat, since the one he always wears was starting to wear out. It looked like he had dug it up from someone's grave, you'd say. He laughed and took the hat appreciatively.

He watched as you looked around for the tallest man on the squad, holding a medium sized box. Where was he…?

Price frowns. "Looking for Ghost?", he asks. You turn to him, slightly sheepish. "Yeah. He in his room?"

He sighs. "He just might be. He… Christmas isn't exactly a good holiday for him. Never has been.", Price explained, scratching his beard.

You frowned, understanding. You knew Ghost was… standoffish, to say the least. He didn't often show emotions or expressions aside from a sarcastic smile here and there.

You figured he had to have had a rough childhood from the way he talked, or behaved. He never talked about his family much, so it kinda made sense.

Even still, everyone deserves a good Christmas. Even Ghost.

With an appreciative nod, you left to find Ghost's room. Upon approaching the room, you begin to get hesitant and curious. How much has Christmas affected his life? What happened?

Would he even like the gifts you got him…?

It was Ghost. He was blunt, unhesitant. He'd be straight with you and you'd have to do your best not to take it to heart.

But the thought of that made you nervous. As you walked up to his door, you thought about just leaving the present there, doing a little dingdong ditch for him.

But before you could, a rumbled voice came from behind the door. "Come on.", you heard.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Peeking inside, you could see how minimal his room was. He just had a desk, his bed and a lamp. Very minimal, you thought almost unimpressed.

There he was, laying on his bed wearing nothing but his usual balaclava, a black turtleneck and cargo pants.

How could he sleep in those?

Stepping in, you closed the door and gave him a smile. "Hey, LT." You walked up to him, standing just a few feet away from him.

You see his dark eyes drift to the box in your hands. "What's that?", he asks.

"Uh.. a present? I got everyone else one, and I wanted to get you too. Didn't want you to be left out.", you confessed with a shy smile.

Despite his balaclava covering his whole face aside from his eyes, you could've sworn his eyebrows rose in curiosity.

He let out a sigh through his nose and sat up. "Give it 'ere.", he mumbled. Your smile grew as you handed it to him.

He held the box and patted next to him on his bed, which you happily took the chance to sit.

He looked down at the neatly wrapped box, tempted to even shake it as he looked at you with a curious, but warning look.

"No pranks, promise.", you reassured. The man sighed again and unwrapped the box, finally opening it to see another wrapped present, a smaller box and a pair of tactical gloves.

He took the tactical gloves out first and examined them. They looked like his usual skull ones, but brand-new.

He looked at you, waiting for an explanation. "I figured you were gonna need some soon. You're wearing out the ones you have now, and those will take a while for you to wear out.", you say, and he nods, setting them aside.

He picked up the smaller box and opened it, revealing a nice watch. He didn't wear any jewelry aside from his dog tags.

If you could call them jewelry, that is.

He glanced at you, slightly amused. "This your way of telling me I have no sense of fashion, Sergeant?"

You chuckled. "Maybe."

He shook his head, and put it on his desk. The last present, you were really thoughtful for. It took a while to find all the materials and have someone help you with it.

This one… you really hoped he liked.

He picked up the last present, curious and finally opened it. He paused.

It was a tactical knife, sheathed in a black leather sheath. He pulled the knife out of its covering and his eyes widened a bit.

The base of the knife was made of black steel, while the edge, the blade, was covered in a white permanent coating.

On the side, however, was engraved with a writing that stated: S. Riley

The writing was on both sides. Even the handle had a neat, little skull carved into it.

You bit your lip as you watched him examine it. Did he like it?

He rubbed the cool base of the knife with his thumb, the pad running over his engraved name.

He was almost… speechless. And that didn't happen very often. He set the knife back into its sheath and sat it down on his desk, next to his watch.

He looked at you once more. He was unsure what to do. He wasn't expecting to give anyone any presents, much less receive any.

He wasn't prepared.

You noticed his weariness, his hesitation and uncertainty. Smiling softly, you gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Simon."

He stiffened for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. It took some getting used to, but once he found himself getting comfortable, he grew to like the affection.

"Thank you…"

A week after Christmas, the squad was back to work. As Ghost got himself ready, he took his knife with him, and picked up his watch. As his fingers ran over the backside, he felt indistinctive lines carved into it and turned it around to see it engraved in a date.

10.28.XXXX

This... Was the date you two met the first time of your recruitment.

The corners of his lips lifted a bit as he put it on, covering it with his sleeve. He finally put his gloves on, the material instantly warming his usual cold hands.

They weren't enough to make his hands sweaty, but enough to get his blood pumping through them.

He looked around his room once more before leaving.

[he-goes-down]

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

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

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON 

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

[dottcre]

“i crave you”

cw: gn!masochist!reader (u can have a strap), straight up cannibalism, sub!dottore in the short bit of smut, biting, mentions of scars, lots of blood and gore, drugging (to decrease pain)

You weren’t very sure when Dottore had started to develop this odd… fetish? Kink? You weren’t even sure what to call it. Well, you might have an idea, but you weren’t sure if your assumptions were right either.

It all began a month or two ago, or so you think when you’d let him ride you. He was a beauty, as usual, body trembling and nails digging into the bedsheets. His sharp teeth scraped along your neck, never daring to bite since it was what you commanded of him. You had work, and with the heat in Sumeru, a turtleneck or scarf weren’t feasible options to use to hide the mark.

He seemed different that day, eyes more focused, movements more wild and careless as he chased for his own pleasure, never once pulling away from your neck. Drool was coating your shoulder, you being too distracted by the way he moved on you to take his odd behaviour into mind. After all, this was Dottore.

As he came, however, he bit down on your shoulder, muffling his pleasured moans and causing your pained ones to fill the room instead. Blood gushed out from the fresh wound, mixing with the saliva and staining both your shoulder and his teeth.

You chided him afterward, knowing that it was likely the mark would scar, yet he seemed out of it, tongue prodding around in his mouth, licking at his teeth. It was odd, but not something he wouldn’t do.

Only, it got worse.

For the next few weeks, he’d seem needier than usual, often getting you near him whenever you could, nipping and biting around the bite mark he left back then. He started biting you more, and you started growing used to the sting that faded into pleasure. You didn’t know how it got this far, how you’d let it get this far.

Dottore was gnawing at your arm, picking at it with his teeth. His clean habits were gone as blood was smothered on his sickly pale skin. He was grinning slightly, humming as he chewed and drank from you. It made you sick, a horrible feeling building up your throat as you swore that you’d puke if you stared for too long. The drug he gave you earlier was bitter on your tongue, forcing you to stay conscious enough to feel it, alive enough to keep breathing in case he needed more.

He’d torn through the muscle, the whites of your bone starting to show and making you tear up. Never once has he managed to make you cry before, and he seemed to relish in the success. You heard him chew, and swallow, then felt him lick, bite, and the process only repeated itself until he was satisfied.

The drug made you dizzy, and the strength you had drained from your body. Not that you could do anything when your other arm had entirely gone to waste. Dottore’s work. Your wretched, twisted lover’s work.

No, you were barely lovers now. He was a starving man, and you the meal he’s craved all his life.

You blinked, fatigued and quite literally drained. A twitch of your fingers caught his attention, drawing him away from his meal. Wild red eyes fixated on you, and a thought about how he’d looked just like a predatory bird flashed across your mind. You couldn’t speak, throat dry to the point that it hurt. He gave you a sick grin, teeth red and eyes curving to the point he looked unnatural.

“I’ve never tasted anything like you,” he rasped, voice husky. “Oh, where have you been?” His figure was barely a mess of colours to you as tears started flowing freely. Were you overwhelmed? How could you be when you could barely feel anything?

He watched you for a few moments, cold hand holding your own limp one before realizing that you were out like a light. Then, he looked over at your arm. His masterpiece. He might’ve gone just a bit too far, judging by its horrific state. Bits of bone were poking out, and the madman applauded himself for being able to keep you alive.

He picked you up ever so gently, starkly different from his behaviour a moment ago, and pulled you against him. Your skin was still warm, blood dripping and staining his previously pristine floors.

He kissed you once, then another, a sign of gratitude in his own fucked up way. As he waltzed your body into his lab, he hummed. For as long as you existed, he’d savour you, every single part of you, for a good, hard-earned meal was not to be wasted.

[court-jobi]

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink.  So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?  

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking. 

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded. 

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this–  black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group. 

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive’ in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair. 

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word. 

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?" 

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa  flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin.  Now more than ever,  he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once. 

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about “immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’  brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong . 

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way. 

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace. 

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye–  when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch. 

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio. 

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’,  you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape. 

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing. 

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either. 

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before…  this cements each and every one as valid. 

He likes you. He really likes you. 

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again, 

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there,"  your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now. 

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain." 

You bristled in good humor, 

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same. 

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked. 

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well. 

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…" 

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

 “–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully  interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals. 

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right? 

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know. 

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space. 

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..." 

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required. 

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~" 

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely." 

He kept your  sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural. 

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it.  Well then. 

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed. 

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,”  Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough." 

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed," 

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it. 

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor- 

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous.  That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch. 

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.” 

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa. 

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you. 

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months. 

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you.  He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy.  Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.” 

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah. 

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking–  you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it. 

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway. 

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.” 

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name. 

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside?  It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a  glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave. 

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do.  Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’. 

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it. 

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows,  stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places. 

One constant he has found helps, has been you. 

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same. 

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever. 

You lean on a hip, closer to him. 

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them. 

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark, 

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?” 

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye. 

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.  

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration. 

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore. 

[escapiste123]

Reigen's sister comes with a surprise visit one day. She swings by the office in the evening, just as Reigen is about to close up. Reigen doesn't seem happy to see her, he's nervous and jittery, asks unsubtly how long she's planning to stay. It doesn't take long to figure out why.

The door opens and a handsome young man walks in. He's tall and muscular, dressed in black slacks and a turtleneck. To Reigen's sister at least it's very obvious how much younger he is than Reigen, how out of his league.

Reigen calls him 'Mob', pauses awkwardly on the introduction.

"This is Kageyama Shigeo," he says at long last and doesn't add anything else.

The three of them make their way to Reigen's new address, that his sister hasn't even heard of. She supposes it makes sense for him to move to a bigger place if he shares his flat with someone else now.

They stop by the supermarket on the way, buy food and drinks to celebrate her arrival. While Reigen pays for the groceries, chatting amicably with the clerk, his sister and Mob stand side by side a few feet away.

"What's your relationship with my brother?" she asks him in a low voice.

The young man only smiles and shakes his head softly. His eyes don't leave Reigen for a moment.

Her suspicion grows when they reach the flat. There's a kitchenette combined with a sitting room, a small bathroom & a singular door that leads, presumably, to the only bedroom.

They sit together around a low table in the sitting room, drinking sake & chatting idly about this and that. Memorable cases at Reigen's work, annoying clients that his sister deals with, some lighter memories of their childhood. Mob, she learns, works a well paying government job.

She doesn't learn much else. Not through words at least. At first Reigen seems aloof, jolting when his hand brushes against Mob's. As he gets more drunk, it melts away. He leans on Mob's broad chest, smiles at him with a sappy expression, lets him sling an arm around his shoulders.

Mob's cheeks are flushed pink, either from the sake or from Reigen being so touchy. On her way back from the bathroom the sister catches sight of Mob pressing his lips to her brother's neck. He sees her staring and straightens up, placid smile on his face, not at all embarrassed.

Neither of the siblings has a good alcohol tolerance, and the sister has a train to catch next day besides, so soon after they decide to go to bed. Mob leaves the room to go find a spare futon. Reigen holds his sister's hand in a rare display of tenderness, smiles at her brightly.

"Are you happy, Arataka?" she asks him softly. She doesn't want to pry into the strange little life that her brother has carved out for himself, to learn the ins and outs of how these two different people found one another. Does it even matter? Their parents aren't here to judge.

Reigen shrugs, casts his eyes at the bedroom door.

"I s'ppose so, yeah." Just then Mob appears in the doorway again & Reigen's eyes light up.

"Oh, have I introduced you yet?" he babbles drunkenly. "This is Kageyama Shigeo, he is... the most important person in my life."

[carelessflower]

PART 6

(Im defo need to rewrite this and post in ao3 with a lot more detail and im writing this with no beta at 4 am with no sleep)

Magnus stood outside holding the duffel bag. He was frozen. Couldn't move. He wanted to run away from the problem.

He texted Raphael to meet him outside the Lightwood Manor.

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

"Have you seen Magnus?" Alec asked, its almost half 8, and dinner is getting ready. He looked at his phone and still no reply.

"He looked down earlier." Clary told him, which was not comforting. He took out his phone and ramg him again.

"Hiya its Magnus, Im probably avoiding you, so dont leave a voice message. Unless its Alec, then go right ahead."

"Magnus where are you? Im worried, just call me when you get this." Alec sat on the steps, waiting by the door.

A few minutes past by and the door opened, Magnus standing there, his jacket zipped up.

"Magnus!" Alec pulled him in for a hug.

"Sorry traffic was terriable." Magnus whispered, as he hugged Alec back.

"Im gonna go upstairs and get changed, and it looks like someone needs you." He said, as Tavvy was pulling at Alec's leg.

"Can you play with me. Max is to small and everyone here is no fun." Tavvy pouted, as Magnus walkes upstairs, Johnathan watched, as he followed him up, as Tavvy led Alec to the lounge.

Magnus opened his bedroom door, and unzipped his jacket, he still had a headache, but the neausa and dizziness has passed.

He looked at the faint bruises on his neck. Tracing his finger along the bruise. He went to the closet and grabbed a purple turtleneck and put it on, a knock on the door made him jump.

"Sorry didnt mean to scare you."

Magnus just shot Johnathan a glare, as he straighned his turtleneck and looked at the closet mirror.

No visible brusing.

"What now Johnathan?" He said, as he folded his shirt.

"Where's the duffel bag?"

"My appartment. God whats with the questions."

"Im sorry. I shouldnt have followed you, but you should have told me you were seeing your dad again."

"And what were you going to do? Arrest him? You made things worse you know that!" He wasnt angry at Johnathan, he was angry at himself. He was angry at the cops who were making the case against his dad.

"I know and im sorry, but I was looking out for you. If you dont want to tell me what you and your dad did. Thats fine, but please tell Alec the truth, he should know."

"I told him some parts..He just doesnt need to know yet." Magnus walked past Johnathan and headed downstairs.

Magnus headed to the lounge to see Alec reading Tavvy a book.

"Tavvy come on we are heading home." Mark called out, as Tavvy groaned

"Go and grab your coat Tavvy." Alec tickled him, which made Tavvu laugh and run out of the lounge.

"Are you alright?" Alec said, as Magnus sat beside him.

"Ive been worse." He lied.

"How about tomorrow we go to a nice restaurant just the two of us." Alec said,

"That would be nice." Magnus smiled, resting his head against Alec's.

"Dinner is ready." Maryse called, as the doorbell went.

"Ill get it." Shouted Isabelle.

Max crawled into the lounge, as Alec picked him up.

"Mom fed him so I can put him to bed." Jace announced.

"Do you want to go to uncle Jace." Alec cooed, as Max giggled.

"Take him to bed, put his dino toy in his cot." Alec said handing him over to Jace.

Isabelle came in, followed by an older male.

"Hodge its been a while." Alec smiled, hugging the older man. He hasnt seen Hodge since he was seventeen.

"You gotten taller Alexander. And you must be Magnus Bane." He smiled at Magnus, who smiled back.

"Im going to be staying here fot a bit..so i need to speak to Maryse." Hodge said walking to the kitchen to see Jocelynn ans Maryse talking

Sebastian and Simon were talking about D&D, and Clary and Jace came downstairs, talking about her new job at a small animation studio.

Johnathan pulled Magnus aside.

"Hodge was one of the bosses that was working on your dad's case." Johnathan whispered.

"I thought you werent supposed to tell?"

"Im being a friend here. Take that info, because I find it odd that he turns up after your father." Johnathan whispered, as he went to the kitchen.

__________

(Short but part 7 date night)

uh oh 😦

[dino-fart]

Like Home

@dreamxonxx

OHHH BOY SINISTER DAY IM THRILLED!!!! here is my idea 😮‍💨 the reader is a sorcerer and has the ability to travel the multiverse without disrupting the natural balance of things while also having variants of herself. while traveling she could tell her energy was low and needed a quite universe to recharge in. she makes her way to a new universe where she runs into a the most sinister version of strange she has ever encountered. however the sinister looking man would do absolutely anything to make her feel like home 

[Reader (You) has medium length hair tied in a braided bun with curtain bangs that stop right above the eyebrows. Reader are wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck, a dark blue cloak that stops at the waist, black pants, black boots, and a brown satchel bag that is attached to the belt. Reader has dagger that she throw to create portals.]

You were traveling across the multiverse in search of pieces of a mirror, a mirror that could help you get back to your universe. You variant selves aided you in collecting the pieces and now you have two left. You needed to recharge though, you were exhausted and your powers were dimming. You threw your dagger across the way and it exploded and opened a portal. You jumped through and stumbled into the next universe. 

The surroundings were...Perplexing. When you got up and looked around you were in awe. “What happened here?” You furrowed your brows. Something began to glow in your satchel and you pulled out the wrapped piece of mirror glass. It began to glow brightly and guided you in this broken universe. 

You followed its’ trail and stopped when you saw the lone standing building. You recognized it as the Sanctum Sanctorum. You had a few interactions with the Master of the Mystic Arts and he had always offered refuge in the Sanctum. You wondered if this variant would do the same. You cautiously approached the door and pushed it open. 

The long staircase and the water surrounded it had you in awe. Chills went up your spine and your senses were on high alert. You used your magic to create a quarterstaff...Just in case. You began to walk up the long staircase and made it to the second floor. You walked into a room with instruments and candles and the Sanctum window. You walked over the the window and gasped at the black hole in the sky. 

“Who’s there?” You heard a familiar voice say. 

You turned to the man walking down the steps. “Are you...Stephen Strange?” 

“I once was...But you have not answered my question.” 

“I’m a traveler across the multiverse, I’ve met your variants before. I mean to seek refuge.” You walked over to the center of the room. 

“I see...And may I ask what more you seek here? The small parchment in your hands seem to be glowing quite a bit.” Stephen asked remaining slightly in the shadows. 

“I do seek a piece of the Eclipse mirror. It’s a mirror that can help me get back home. I can’t really do much right now though, my powers need to recharge.” 

“Recharge your powers? What sort of sorceress are you?” 

“I studied with many masters but yes I do need to recharge my abilities, I am no master.” 

Stephen finally stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself. His third eye opened to examine you and your abilities. “You speak the truth.” He stepped toward you, hands behind his back and he looked at your weapon. “Do you intend to fight me?” 

“No. Just a precaution.” You made the weapon disappear and looked at him. 

He was quiet and walked over to the window. “It’s been a while since I have had company...You may stay. Let me know how I can make it more...Hospitable for you.”

“Thank you...Can I ask what happened here?” You walked to stand next to him. 

He turned to you then looked out the window, giving you a sad smile. “It’s a long story.” 

“I’ve got time.” You gave him a gentle smile. 

Author’s Note: I wanted to try something different and add reader and outfit descriptions at the start, lemme know what you think!

Tagging:  @strangeswife​, @strangelockd, @thealleydog, @wolfie-west, @k1mikoz, @fizzybubbletea, @pinkthick, @silver-shadow, @strangesthirdeye, @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson, @lucimorningst4r, @evelyn-kingsley, @strangesgirl

[veevul]

smut warning lawl male reader

As (y/n) reaches the exit gate, ready to leave and dismiss the area for having remains he hears a pallet fall over. (y/n) walks towards the sound, hoping to find an undid cypher, anything.

To his surprise he sees a rather slender boy, hes sat on his knees, leaning against a pallet. As you turn the corner the boy looks to you with his hair covering most of his eyes, messy hair, bruises dappled all around his body.

youre at a loss for words, you never thought youd find anything never the less finding a human is great progress, (y/n) knows he needs to keep him around.

The boy trembles a bit as you walk closer, slow enough so he wouldnt freak out. You almost introduced yourself as you heard loud, raging foot steps coming towards you. The taller boy stands up quickly, jumping over to you.

in the distance you feel a red ambience, only coming closer and closer. out of the side of the barrel a tall purple wax figure comes out. its holding a sharp weapon and coming straight towards you both.

you grab emils hand and run for the exit. while running you look back, both you and emil breathing heavy, you make slight eye contact with him. Emil instantly looks away, back at the main problem.

The wax monster follows directly behind you both. you find a pallet and grab emil by the waist to move him out of the way. the pallet crushes the wax man, allowing you and emil to get a lead on him.

apon a few minutes of running the wax monster is out of signt and a locker is proped on a worn down wall. the locker has just enough space for about a person and a half, sufficient enough for the situation you’re in.

you hear a creak and call emil over to the locker to hide. just as (y/n) closes the locker the wax man comes from the curb. emil covers your mouth as the hunter looks around for a few seconds and continues walking.

Emil quickly moves his hand from your face looking down to you as if hes waiting for something from you. you look up returning his glare. he opens his mouth to speak but nothing but a small hum comes out.

you decide to start the conversation by introducing yourself, “im(FN/LN), here to investi- “ you stop yourself looking back to his eyes, slightly grazing over your lips.

emil looks away when he notices you caught him looking at you. then in the silence you take a moment to realize how you guys are standing. emils leg lies in between (y/n’s) and (y/n) is leaned against the the side of the locker.

since the size isnt so generous emils body hovering over (y/n’s). emils arms pinned on the side of the locker that (y/n) is stood at. his hands near the outline of (y/n’s) waist.

emils face moderately becoming more snd more red. “i.. im emil. im- uh ,im a patient, here for my guaranteed prize..”

you begin to talk, opening your mouth to question him further. after all youre here to collect information about this case. “so, did you come alone?“

“mnh not really but the person i came with.. left without me” emil says. “ouh thats..” you sadly look up to his face once more.

you move your hand touching emils waist with the tips of your finger. dont get me wrong, you were trying to adjust to a more comfortable position.

emil looks down at your hand and back to your face, observing your every detail. his face still gaining color.

the tension is loud and every silent moment becoming more and more deafening.

emils leg starts to push down more against your thigh, his face becoming distressed. emil starts chewing his lip to contain himself.

(y/n) lightly cups emils face “you’re face is really warm, are you sick?” with the touch of you emil jumped up and quickly glanced between your eyes and your lips and your neck, covered in a turtleneck.

his staring was interrupted by a harsh object that hit the locker. (y/n) lost balance and fell over onto emil.

(y/n’s) head fell onto emils chest and his hand latched onto.,..,a rather gentle place for emil, especially now that he was feeling a little funny.

emil whimpered at the feeling of (y/n’s)hand on him. he could barely control himself. he didnt feel like this alot, even with ada.

(y/n) on the other hand was oblivious of what he did, almost as if he was just toying with him. not that emil minded.

“mngh (y/n) your hand is on me..”

emil puts his head down to avoid eye contact. once again, loud steps are heard coming towards their area.(hunter cockblocking sbahahah)

(y/n) then covers emils mouth with his other hand. little did (y/n) know that emil was sensitive to touch. as the hunters steps came closer to the locker emil got closer and closer to (y/n) to the point where they were basicly hugging

(y/n) feels emils shaky breathing on his neck, emils hands slowly trails down to (y/n’s) hips. lightly, emil pulls (y/n) into his arms, firmly but gently embracing his warmth.

The hunter walks up to the fallen pallet and stands there for a good five seconds. (y/n) grabs emil tighter one hand on his chest the other on his lower back.

(y/n’s) position is switched up by the hunter pushing the pallet, his leg going up even more and his head resting on emils sholder.

Once you guys hear the hunter walk off (y/n) brings up the way you guys are stood “unhb emil..!” (y/n) grew a little anxious about it. on the other hand his worry didnt sound the same for emil.

(y/n) trys to move away but his hand trails back down to his croch. emils head is practically spinning emil slowly grips (y/n’s) lower back unable to focus on anything hes saying. he wants.. satisfaction he wants (y/n).

-emils pov- (y/n) moved his knee up to my crotch, making me squirm even more. i cant suppress this anymore i need..it. i put my head on (y/n’s) neck breathing heavily.

i start to sweat a little trying to stay as still as possible, waiting for this feeing to go away. (y/n) asks if im okay as my pants start to grow tighter. my breathing growing more unsteady.

-normal pov- me and emil grew more close to each other since the hunters presence disappeared. even after the hunter left emil was still getting closer to (y/n).

out of no where (y/n) starts to feel something poking his lower half. he looks down to see the outline of emils crotch from his pants, his heart rate going faster.

(y/n) quickly pulls away, looking up to emils face seeing how stimulated he was. “oh my god im so sorry i didnt realize i was..!”

(y/n’s) interrupted by emils sharp glare. emil pulls you closer by your hips. “you made it like this., arnt you gonna fix it?” emil seductively wispers to your ear.

emil grabs your hand, looking you in your eyes, “are you okay with this..?” you feel your face warm up as you nod, returning the glare

instantly emil puts his body against yours, smashing his lips onto yours. starting off slow and passionate.

emil cant resist anymore, his kisses moving to your neck biting all over. you let out short interrupted gasps your moans becoming more breathy

In between moans you move you hand over to his pants. unzipping emils slacks. he looks down to you with his irritation overflowing

“mhhm please” emil chokes out, basically being edged without even being touched. you place you cold hand around emils dick.

pre cum spilling over emils member. you began to move your hands at a slow speed. “haa~ uhgmm~!” his noises filling your ears.

“youre such a good boy for me” you wisper as you move you hands faster up and down his crotch. “a~ ahh! y-(y/n) mhg hah~” in between moans begging to put his dick into you.

“ngh (y/n) mm~gh mplease” emil squeezes his eyes shut as he continues to let out rougher moans. Just as he was at his limit you stop.

You like the power that you hold. you look up at emils eyes letting out small tears. “(y/n), please let me cum” emil whines.

“you cant hog all of the pleasure to yourself now can you?” (y/n) states suggestively. you slowly remove the clothes covering your lower half.

you slip you finger to emils tip playing with it once more. “please-ahm~ you make me feel so good” emil begs. “can i put it in?” emil askes for consent

emils moans and whines has you wanting him as much as emil desires to feel you.

[pigerludio]

Emotions. Memories. Life. Fanfic. Undertale AU.

-Part 1-

Category: Gen, 16+ maybe?

Character: Frink, Mirror, Seller, AI Dream

Warnings: Obscene language, Inhuman morality, OC, Mental disorders, Psychological traumas, Rating for profanity, Gray morality, OOC,

Other tags: AU, In one body, Drabble, Parallel Worlds, Under the same roof, A collection of drabbles, Elements of psychology, Elements of humor / Elements of banter.

- Created by the desire to ✨ create✨

- Tags will be added as they are written.

- Predominantly bone-shake, though it's not a fact that this will always be the case.

- EML is: Acute Incident stories, (sick)everyday life of HWS, spending time with the AI inhabitants, living the dead and not quite alternatives, and just the creeping of bone-gnaw in the knowledge of their mortal existence.

— Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses.

— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him: the left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently:

— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?

— You lose. – The words of the main enemy echo in his head. No, he can't lose. Concentrate, come on! His head splintered, as if it were about to crack, turning to dust. In his case, it was more like a puddle of ink that was as flammable as his blood. His trembling hands clutch his weapon with all their might. In front of his eyes, a frozen image of reality, an image from many years ago:

— You lose. – The words come alive. Not an enemy, no, someone painfully familiar. Too bad the unknown man has his back turned to him. Too bad he doesn't remember him anymore. It's not the first time he's been visited by memories and visions of this nice guy. And while in them the stranger plays not the most pleasant role. In this particular memory, the stranger does not hear his requests. His posture, his intonation, the tilt of his head: everything looks the same as it did a few seconds earlier. But unlike he recent rival, the stranger's bones are a milky white color. Someone had said a similar phrase to him before, with the same meaning, and that memory somehow gave meaning to the enemy's phrase. It annoyed the hell out. Gave him motivation to move on.

— Huh – With an effort, he raises his head and directs his gaze to the back of his enemy. Wiping the residual ink from his face, he gets to his feet, leaning on his tool:

— YOU'RE WRONG. – He speaks clearly, snatching a red-colored pill from the dispenser. Thoughts turn a vengeful, angry color. The same color as his T-shirt. The same color as his pupil sights.

The lunge forward was too abrupt and a bit ill-conceived. As soon as the wearer of the gray cloak raised his arm up, the violet strings twisted the white skeleton. His attempts to break free resulted in more pain and weakness, more irritation and hatred. Even more unfortunately.

— Stop it. Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The calm, ingratiating voice did not jump in pitch, only sounded irregular, mechanical notes. The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses. His heterochromatic pupils contrasted against the blood-red eye sockets and dark bones hidden beneath the fabric of his cloak and T-shirt.

— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him. Close enough to see: camouflage sweatshirt, long dark pants, boots, brown turtleneck, and a turquoise cape behind him. His white skull is covered in a multitude of scars – deep and not so deep. In the right eye socket is a black void covered by familiar lags. The left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently. Judgmental:

— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?

Unintelligible whispers from different directions make he look around in bewilderment. Darkness thickens around them, forming shadows. The whispers intensify until they become deafening.

YOU LOST US..

— No…

WE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!

— Shut up!

LIAR..

…REMEMBER!

— YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!

He screams, grabbing his head with his hands. He doesn't want to hear their deafening rumble, he can't do anything stunned by that rumble. No, he can't remember, he has to keep fighting! But how, if he can't see anything in front of him – only feels incredible pain… It seems he fell, or is still falling, and what is happening is nothing more than a dream? The keeper rarely had dreams, so much so that he remembered them all by heart and by date. He desperately did not want to remember such a dream…

—̴͇̳͂F̸̢̀ŕ̸̨.̷̥͡.̴̹͂.̶̻́k̷̝̊?̴̗̈– Through the shroud of voices comes the irritating monotone of Mirror's voice… His eternal and main enemy, the destroyer. The dark-skinned man was always trying to ruin his life and the lives of those around him.

— …Ink! – Another voice sounds. His head clicks as the named one jumps up from the bed. A powerful arm stops him from falling, holding him in a sitting position with pressure. The dizziness gradually fades, as does the hitched breath.

With the ticking of the wall clock, Frink regains consciousness, squinting somewhat dazedly at his winged friend, who is frozen in worry. He is lying in a room, one of the many in RJ castle. The room is simple, even very simple – bare walls, a window with a carved grate, a sink and mirror in another corner of the room, a couple of doors, and a nightstand by the bed with a glass of water on it. Frink drains the cool contents immediately, without thinking about the safety of such an act.

What am I doin' here?

Being oblivious doesn't add up to peace of mind. He would have understood if he'd woken up on the ground or in the water, in a garbage can, an alternative Grillby's bar, in a sucking snowdrift, or, at the very least, in the company of the inhabitants of Underlust. But what was he doing here, next to a supposed ally, and was he an ally? He didn't understand.

— You awake? What the hell were you dreaming about? – Dream snorted, drawing attention to his angry self. Dream was the one responsible for the recent appearance of the dream to the guardian. To put it crudely, he was the only one he could come to just to sleep. But he did so only in extreme cases and as needed.l.

— I… I can't remember. – Dream only rolled his eyes at this response, twitching his wings behind his back in frustration. I should have smiled guiltily, but it was not easy to reach for the unknown where funked off lost dispenser, and the residual emotions for shame were not enough. The feathered man sighed, turning his gaze to the open window: judging by the bright sunlight, it was daytime outside, which meant that Dream had come to check on him for a reason:

— I have something for you. I'll meet you in my office in 30 minutes. Don't be late, please. – Another careful glance at the sleepy body of the guardian, and the feathered man hurried away from the stuffy room. It was only after he left that Frink realized how uncomfortable he felt being in a terribly empty room with white walls…

Checking under his pillow, the keeper exhaled with relief: he'd taken his diary with him, which was fortunate, because its current owner didn't remember a fucking thing about the last few hours of his life. Except for a bad dream, of course. The thought of that made he pause for a moment.

Dream's settings are off, so instead of a normal dream, I'm having a nightmare?

The role of Mirror in it was decisively unclear, though, what is to be said, judging by the entries in his diary, he had been fighting with him only lately. Boring and uninformative. The other boy, who looked like a Blue, but was also very different from him, was interesting.

The reason for the appearance of his person in the castle of the hyper-positive was not found at once: only on the fifth attempt Frink managed to read the assumption written in an inferior handwriting. He didn't seem to have been drinking, but it felt as if his hand was moving in all directions while writing. Judging by the notes, he came to the winged one for help – there was little strength left after the battle, he was exhausted to a critical minimum. He had taken back the world, but he didn't have enough strength for self-recovery.

And instead of just curing me, the idiot put me to sleep.

Frink clenched his teeth loudly, contemplating which feather to start plucking at the curious chicken's ass. As if the keeper didn't know what his feathered friend was doing while he slept! Sometimes he lost ink, and sometimes sheets with valuable notes, though Frink was 100% sure he'd never give them up voluntarily for anything in his life. His gaze caught on a scrawled but legible note on the Wingdings:

— And… what's that mean?

Indeed, the writing was legible, and to the keeper's delight he knew the Wingdings well. But that didn't change the unfortunate fact that the meaning of the writing was obscured by those mighty scribbles:

👎⚐

☠⚐❄

💧☹☜☜🏱

DO NOT SLEEP

A leaf that had fallen out from under the page added to the confusion. The text on it was written in the same messy handwriting:

— 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ❄☼🕆💧❄ ✌ 👌✋☼👎 🕈✋❄☟ ✌ ☝⚐☹👎☜☠ 👍✌☝☜📬 DON'T TRUST A BIRD WITH A GOLDEN CAGE. – He read it aloud, as if it could be a magic spell to get him out of trouble. The thought made me laugh a little – it was funny. — ⚐😐✌✡📪 ✋👎⚐☠🕯❄☞☼☜✌😐✋☠🕯 🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎📬 OKAY, I DON'T FREAKIN' UNDERSTAND.

But that wasn't all! The new scrawl made his eye socket twitch nervously, and the darkest shadow of bewilderment appeared on his face:

💣✋☼☼⚐☼ 😐☠⚐🕈☜✞☜☼✡❄☟✋☠☝ MIRROR KNOWS EVERYTHING

— Oh yeah, thanks boss, that makes a lot more sense now!

And what does HIS name have to do with it? For the second entry in a row, Frink stoically ignores the hints of his previous notes that it would be «worth talking» to the owner of the deadly purple strings. Somehow he'll get by without that glitchy splinter. Filled with despondency at the domestic confusion, the guardian of the universes washed his face with cold water, noticing with suspicion the dispenser he was looking for on the sink.

Creators, save Dream, if he's gotten the idea to put something in my pills. I swear to Brut, I'll kick his ass!

Speaking of Brut: there was no sign of her anywhere in the room. It wasn't a problem to summon her right now – Frink had recovered enough, but he was afraid he'd snap and ruffle a feather or two. And that, no less than that, would result in a loud scandal and a relationship that the keeper had neither the time nor the energy for.

There weren't enough pills in the dispenser. Too few to be in his usual frenzied state, and too many to trash his surroundings with his energetic carcass. There was an option to flood the misery in blue, but Frink had cut that thought down early on, settling on a few colors and combinations. The orange and blue pills, two in number, were popped into his mouth at the same time, but the green pill, he later realized, was unnecessary. Disgust was the only thing he wanted to feel from this rather sticky situation though. Looking at himself in the mirror, he adjusted the black bandana that had fallen off to the side and the flame-patterned T-shirt that was literally begging to be washed. If Frink's biological clock was correct, he'd been awake for about ten minutes, and the feathered man's office was still about five minutes away.

As you wish, Creators.

He sighed humbly and headed out of the room. There were more things in the corridors, so maybe he's paranoia would fade into the background. Before he'd gone a couple of meters, Frink slapped his forehead, and with a tickling sensation of shame went back to the room to retrieve the dispenser he'd forgotten on the sink. It was a miracle he hadn't left his diary in his room. It was good that there was no one in the corridors – they would have thrown slanted, perplexed glances. Speaking of birds…

Which way is the winged one's office…?

— ⚐☟📪 ☞⚐☼ ☞🕆☠😐🕯💧 💧✌😐☜✏ OH, FOR FUNK'S SAKE!

_______________

End, I think?)

[henrysglock]

Some more FS au thoughts below the cut!

Henry saw El at the rink and then looked at both Brenner and Jim like: She’s my daughter now. Grand Theft Offspring.

Jim doesn't go in the kiss-and-cry booth much anymore due to the combination of unpredictable subjective point totals and his own unpredictable temper when he thinks a score is unfair. He’s upset on El’s behalf, he loves her, it’s just unnecessarily stressful for everyone involved. The kiss-and-cry booth tends to be Henry's territory, since he's more accustomed to dealing with the Everything about it. (In addition: Scott “it was totally political” Clarke makes an appearance rink-side)

Henry “You are better than they are. Superior.” Creel makes an appearance in the context of “Your competitors and their coaches, they want you to feel like you’re less-than. Don’t let them.” after El gets shoved around by a few of Brenner’s other students at Junior Nationals.

This was the same Junior Nationals where Brenner tried to “reconnect” with El after seeing her success at the previous competition. El isn’t having it, but having a big public blowout is not the way to handle things you Don’t Like in FS. That can kill your subjective scoring. Henry, more than aware of this and only somewhat afraid of Brenner after years of Fixing His Damage, catches him rink-side during warmups. He only has 10 whispered words for Brenner, the first he’s spoken directly to the man since The Injury: Come near her again, and I will kill you. Brenner’s half-convinced he means it literally. It was said so quietly that none of the surrounding cameras picked it up. Oh, how the tables have turned on the concept of “our little secret”.

Victor also wanted Henry to play hockey back in the day (because he played hockey as a boy and enjoyed spending time/having a shared hobby with Henry), but after watching little 8 year old Henry at hockey practice for One (1) hour, he went hm...maybe not. Victor “loves his son so much” Creel 100% supported Henry getting into FS instead (no one could have predicted the shitshow it would spiral into).

The Injury (pulled from Henry’s head injury in the canon electrocution scene) left Henry with a sick silver streak on his left side where they put the titanium plate in. The Party has a running joke that he looks like a supervillain because of it.

Henry stuck with Brenner from age 12 to about age 30, something of an unwritten record for a coach-athlete relationship. He only stuck with him so long because Brenner had secrets to leverage over him/had backed him into the “I’m the only one willing to have you” corner by building his cold/unfeeling/hard to work with persona.

Brenner 100% tries to cover his ass later by trying to paint Henry as a troublemaker, that really, if you think about it isn’t he the victim here, having put so much time and effort into Henry only to have him squander it by lashing out the moment he realized there might be a new winner? That little façade lasts a good long while, right up until Henry’s case is reopened and the truth of the matter comes out. The reader can fill in whatever blanks they want about what, exactly, was brought to light. The details aren’t super important atp!

El totally whoops ass at Junior Nationals, btw. She wipes the floor with all of Brenner’s newest round of students. If Henry’s a touch smug about it…well. Why shouldn’t he be?

In his day, Henry 100% had Yuzuru Hanyu style outfits, typically in some sort of white/grey/blue. Practice and coaching outfits run more along the lines of black pants and white sweaters/turtlenecks. (Scott is appreciative. If you've ever seen the pics of Yuzuru Hanyu's practice fits...you get it)

Brenner is the kind of coach to subtly rag on you from the boards. Henry is the type to actually demonstrate the skill he expects you to perform. (That’s canon, actually, shdhsjdhsj)

El's pink dress outfit from Season 1 is one of her first competition outfits. Yes, it's still a hand-me-down from Nancy. Yes, she still looks absolutely adorable. Yes, Henry's hovering behind her like a demon, daring anyone to so much as breathe wrong near her.

[klonoadreams]

If I remember right scarnoa's main outfit is miriam's hand me downs right? Since she's basically adopted by the entire school staff are any of the other teachers contributing to her wardrobe?

The first set she gets are hand-me-downs, since Scarnoa's on the petite side, but Mimi eventually just buys her actual clothes - like new stuff that fits her super well. And the old stuff just becomes casual lounge wear of sort, since it's very comfy.

Raifort actually got Scarnoa the boots. Heard her lecturing Jacq for his chanclas (sandals) in the lab and thought it was hilarious, and just decided "have these boots. It's on me." Thank you for entertaining her by making a man know fear.

Tyme went all out on making sure that she got Scarnoa some quality tights and a nice thermal turtleneck that she KNOWS her sister wears at the Montenevera Gym, where there is snow and it's cold, and Ryme is knocking it out of the park in her dress. :V

Keeps Scarnoa's legs nice and toasty without having to really change much of her uniform wear. good for the Autumn uniform. Except she rarely wears the damn school uniform so oop.

Saguaro got her the thigh highs after she asked for some, because the sock catalog DIDNT have them and she WANTED them. Because tights are nice, but she doesn't WANT tights.

But also, Mimi's being doing so much for her, that she didn't want to bother her. and Saguaro also likes cute stuff too, so she's all "do you know where I can get some cute socks? The one that go up to the thigh?"

She's got a few more colors and patterns besides solid black, but yeah, that's something. Living the dream I wish I could have in this game sob sob.

Salvatore gives her hair accessories that his wife has been picking out, because she's been hearing a lot about the child that the school has collectively adopted.

And Jacq gave her a cute phone cases (and more) for her efforts but also as an apology for setting her off with his terrible lab habits. Please go easy on him, he literally just got hired alongside Clavell after they left their previous positions as researchers, where Jacq was Clavell's assistant (fun fact: this is probably why I see a lot of Jacq/Clavell art on pixiv, so...good for them - especially Clavell, get it old man. You somehow managed to land one of the handful of Pokemon characters that made the 2022 Yumejoshi popularity poll, in which Arven was #5 and Rika was #1, beating both Getou and Gojo - Volo was #38 and Steven, despite all these years, was #77...ftr, Jacq was #85)

(I didn't know the ship existed until I saw it at the side while I was looking up Larry/Rika on Pixiv, and then went "INTERESTING."...*adds it to my list of ships*)

Dendra is still looking for the perfect gift - it might not even be clothes, but just battle items, BUT SHE'S TRYING.

And Hassel contributed to MANY of Scarnoa's living expenses, because of how SUDDEN she appeared. And obviously, he's got the funds, so he just... "Here's your room."

Will find out what she likes and proceed to sent it to her room, like random plushes, figurines, cute curtains and throw rugs....want a different wallpaper? Here's a catalogue - pick what you want.

Hassel is genuinely still choked up about Scarnoa's situation, like...where are her parents??? IS SHE OKAY???

"Did I make you mad?" because she missed out on one of his math classes, only to find out that "oh, you got a badge." and then he immediately nyooms to the next gym the instant he gets a notification to congratulate her and give her a headpat, BECAUSE SHE IS STILL PLAYING HOOKY, GOD DAMN.

later finds out she just has shit memory, and that she still is attending school. Eases his concerns, but also, "Try not to get hurt - your Rotom Phone has an app for these sorts of things. It's excellent for keeping you on task, should you get distracted with thing such as the fineries of art."

She says she'll use it, and then promptly forgets about it until Hassel sets it up herself...and then her Rotom Phone decides "Nah, TOO LOUD."

Because each Rotom inside one's phone is unique and has its own personalities, so if you have one that clashes with you, you can either switch with someone else...or deal with it. Most people choose to deal with it because by that point, they're attached to that Rotom like people get attached to Roombas. :V

[dyingstarb0y]

.CHARACTER INFO.

Full name: Victor Nith Creed

> Nicknames/alliances: Vic, Victor, Creed, StarKid

Gender: Trans Man.

> Pronouns: He/they/it

Race: Human.

Occupation: Scientist.

Physical appearance

Age: 21

Description: Victor has long brown hair(mostly in a messy bun) that he usually trims himself. He has hazel eyes and needs glasses, but he almost always uses them to hold back his hair when not working on something. Victor has a slim muscular build despite never really being seen working out, he mostly hides this fact under looser turtlenecks or by wearing a coat. He has beauty marks dotted along his face(under the left eye, right corner of his mouth, three on his right cheek in a slight triangle pattern. the rest are mostly hidden). He has scars from top surgery, a new nicks and cuts(not self inflicted) on his arms, hands and face.(a slight nick through his eye brow).

He has quite a few piercings, mostly on his face with the exception of a handful of ear piercings. He mostly dresses comfortably outside of his work but often can be seen wearing a form fitting button up while working in his lab. He’s either only wearing socks and no shoes or combat boots with steel toes(no in between).

Personality

Victor is quite closed off and doesn’t talk much, he will talk your ear off if you ask him about what he’s doing. He’s got some anger issues, he will threaten and swear like a drunken sailor if he’s upset or if someone pisses him off. Victor isn’t the type to go out of his way to talk to people on his own, he will participate in conversations when he knows about a subject or situation.

If you give him the time of day, he will be the most loyal person ever. He will leave small gifts and trinkets in your pockets when he walks by or leave them near you with a note saying who it’s for etc. Despite his closed off and blunt manner he is very good with the animals of Pandora, often finding it easier to be around them than people entirely.

Traits

He’s very task oriented, often hyper focused on the task at hand than anything else. He’s good at getting things done. However he needs a checklist of things to do or he will feel overwhelmed and nothing will be done well enough, he will also almost never ask for help right away. Victor prefers to do things until he either figures it out or someone comes along and tries to help him.

He can be very blunt, he watches people when not working because it helps him understand what they’re like. He makes note of the smallest change or mannerisms for future reference. Due to the knowledge he picks up from watching he can point out things very quickly which can be both helpful and difficult depending on the situation. He will also overthink things and will likely break down in the privacy of his own room.

Victor is very sensitive to sounds so he likely will cover his ears when something is too loud. He will get sensory overloaded when too many things are making sounds, however if he is forced onto a mission he’ll be able to pick up sounds and some changes.

Likes + dislikes

Victor loves watching the stars at night or listening to the rain, it helps calm him down especially when he’s had a stressful day. He also enjoys to paint or doodle when he gets the chance, often sketching something he’s seen or painting the sky.

He also enjoys earl grey tea in the morning rather than coffee, coffee makes him tired.

Victor, when over stimulated, will stim or try and pull his clothes away from his body as a nervous habit. He hates telling people to quiet down or leave him alone in most cases he will just push the person away or cover his ears. He doesn’t like it when people see him as “weak”, he’s a scientist but he isn’t weak.

Like stated before, he hates asking for help but he will go up to the person he trusts the most or someone who makes him feel safe and follow them around. He doesn’t want to ask for comfort or a hug so he compromises by following them like a lost puppy.

Other information

will be found out through roleplay

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Many thoughts about Stellar and Jellyfish and their Jedi and most of them are just Vibes I can't put into words. Ah well. I'm trying anyway haha. If you wanna see them they're on my artblog :)

• Jellyfish has a (very funky and cool) weird name, which comes, straightforwardly, from the fact he likes jellyfish. Devafe is Arkanian and Arkania has cool jellyfish (apparently) so they bonded over that originally

• Stellar likes space but also I wanted a "quality" name, like Admirable or Magnificent, and the fact it's a pun is cute. He's hardworking and he likes space :)

• these two work pretty well with their generals: Stellar mostly defers to Korcha, which Mrs Rules Are Important And You Should Do Things How They Are Done certainly appreciates, and Jellyfish isn't afraid of interrupting Devafe if he thinks her idea is bad, which she doesn't mind too much because she does have a little bit of an ego but she also appreciates honesty. Stellar is less strict with himself on Respect and Correct Behaviour with Lineth, because she's like 15 and she needs friends.

• Lineth also had a huge - is it even a crush if it lasts for years and your feelings only start being less present when the person dies? Anyway she really loved him. I don't think she told him and he either didn't see it or kind of knew but didn't want to say anything because it's not very surprising in that situation but he wasn't going to do anything with that poor kid, and then he dies, and then she dies, and that's it.

• the general timeline goes like this: Stellar is assigned to Korcha and Lineth from the beginning of the war, and about two years in, maybe two and a half, he disappears in battle, they assume he died, and another clone named Crown takes up his responsibilities instead (not very smoothly at the start because as his name suggests he's more opinionated and that clashes with Korcha) Either he actually did die or he managed to survive and in the time it takes him to try to get back to the army Order 66 happens? I don't really know tbh, I have to finish TCW to decide. Jellyfish isn't the first commander Devafe had, he was named Smoke and he unfortunately died a few months in, but Jellyfish stays with her until the end of the war.

• in a better world though, where Palpatine trips in the stairs at the opera or something, Stellar is definitely alive and comes back a while after the end of the war, and life isn't ideal but it's better. I'm very attached to the idea that Lineth's feelings got smaller, because he wasn't there and even once he comes back the situation is less terrible, they see each other less and she grows up and meets new people, but she doesn't stop loving him, and he loves her too, obviously, in a different way but he does. Anyway a little while after she's been knighted her old feelings come back up and after talking about it they become woohoo partners, to use Sims terms because I want the post to show up in my own tags thankyouverymuch. I don't know I think it would be neat. Oh and they're polyam because more soft sweet interactions. I love making them suffer but it hurts and I need cute stuff and hugs and happiness okay :((

• back to stuff that "actually happened", I love picturing Jellyfish and Devafe just standing next to each other whispering with straight faces but their convo is like bad jokes and "you know a blaster isn't the solution to every problem right?" "yes that's why I have two" They're Serious but that doesn't mean no fun allowed, they're just on the calmer side and focused on their work.

• Stellar and Korcha have a "serious older owner of a shop and their younger employee they taught the ropes to who'll take over when the boss retires" vibe, with Lineth being "the owner's daughter who's friends with that employee", like I can picture it so clearly... The older boss who's sure of himself but accepts the employee's suggestions because "he's getting good at this, I wouldn't have done it better", the employee who's respectful of his boss and even though he's told him they could be on 1st name basis still calls him a title, it's just so Them. Another way of describing it would be Krell but not a bad person, like Korcha is strict and assertive and she still has a bit of a hard time accepting criticism but the plot is not signalling with neon signs that This Is A Bad Guy Evil Dude Right Here.

• I think it would be funny if Korcha and Devafe worked together at some point and in a meeting or something, Korcha suggests something, Jellyfish interrupts her because that wasn't her best idea, and they're a bit stressed out so that starts an argument before either Korcha remembers she's a Jedi Master someone stops them or someone storms out. It's preparation for when Stellar disappears and Korcha has to work with Crown <3

• unrelated to the main two blorbos of the day but I'm thinking about it so it's going there - I don't know who's going there but there are medics called Heart and Angel because those are cool names. Yes none of them have normal names for now. No I'm not planning on changing that I'm having too much fun giving them non-names-names.

• I wanted to give them scars but I have to think about how they'd have them because as opposed to their Jedi they're wearing full body armor so like. Where do those come from.

• silly silly thing but I think maybe once they know each other better one time they're talking about seeing people and Devafe makes an offhand comment about how her occasions to date are really rare now (because she's on a ship with an immense majority of men most of the time and she's very gay) and that leads them to finding a few of her clones who are trans? Maybe? Not for her to date them even, just because I think the idea is cool

• originally the colors painted on armor were indicative of rank and during the war the switched to become signs of belonging to a specific group, all this to say Korcha's color is a deep purple and Devafe's is probably going to be a lighter pink, some kind of light red, strawberry pink I want to say?

• I know they wouldn't have a lot of time but I like to imagine that Stellar sees Lineth all terrified of doing something wrong and afraid of being a commander in the army and almost immediately clocks her as needing more friends, so he introduces her to his own friends among his brothers and I think it would be sweet if they sparred sometimes. She needs lots of repetition for it to stick and someone to spend time with he's nice to the poor kid and trains with a Jedi win-win situation. I don't know I just think it would be cool.

• I want Devafe and Jellyfish to spar together too sooo bad that is so much the vibe. Jellyfish throwing her to the ground early on because her preferred form is Makashi and the ideal amount of body contact between her and her opponent for her is zero. It's funny if she has reflexes of training as a sport and then she gets thrown to the ground. Smoke used to beat her even more because that was even earlier but Jellyfish still gets her.

• I'm sorry I know I picked the names but every time I have to write Jellyfish I just - that's such a silly name I love him.

• Stellar and Cehim would be excellent buddies honestly. They would totally chill in her main room on her ship, him sitting down and enjoying the peace quiet and space, her drawing and looking over at her window from time to time. Lowkey want him to meet her and stay with her a little after the war? She's working on a map of x place and he looks over her shoulder and gives a personal anecdote because he went there and she adds a fun mythological beast in between those two planets to signify danger, that kind of thing.

Okay I think that's it for tonight tune in next time for more OC rambles!

[starlightxsvt]

Storms and Confessions | h.js

pairing ➳ attorney!Joshua x attorney!female reader

genre ➳ enemies to lovers, office romance, fluff, a dash of angst, an attempt at humour.

warnings ➳ cursing, joshua being breathtakingly beautiful, banter, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

word count ➳ 5.4k

synopsis ➳ you've always hated joshua- that man knew how to get on all your nerves yet somehow you end up stuck with him in a situation where you find yourself confessing things you never thought you'd say to him. will things stay the same between the two of you or is there a chance for a love to blossom?

A/N: Here it is~~ This fic was heavily inspired by attorney Joshua from Going Svt bad clue and the latest Going Svt in which he manages to look like that handsome co-worker in your office😍. Also I've sprinkled in some of that car vlive that Seungcheol did with Joshua recently cuz that look of Mr. Hong was so fineeee✨✨. Anyways! I hope y'all have a good time reading this. Stay safe lovelies~

If you ever have a stroke and die at an early age, it'll be because of Joshua. You glare at the man across the room, who smiles sweetly at Alison as he hands her some reports.

"Stop burning holes into him," Edith pipes up from beside you, making you roll your eyes.

"Ugh, if I could I would've burned his annoying ass a long time ago," you grumble taking eyes off the man.

"Oh please he's not annoying, far from it actually," Edith sighs making you scoff. "Sure, go ahead and suck his dick then."

"Isn't that what you wanna do?" Edith smiles cheekily making you get up from your chair to smack her. She runs away giggling as others in the office frowns at you. Ignoring them you plop back down on your seat and rub your forehead.

Why did he have to be working in the same office as you out of all goddamn places? Not only that but he made a name for himself and got the best corner office on the floor. At this rate you're afraid you won't get the promotion since all your boss talks about these days is how good Joshua is at his work.

You crumple the documents on your hand, gritting your teeth. At this rate, you won't be surprised if he becomes the CEO. You'll officially go crazy if that ever happens as only thinking about it makes you want to choke that man to death. He has been awarded the best attorney many times and he has almost become a celebrity in the area. Your biggest fear is that Greta, your dear boss, just might start snatching your cases and handing them over to him. Just the thought of that makes you shake your head furiously- if you think about that you won't get anything done for the day.

Just then the face of the devil pops up in your cubicle, all sweet smile and cresent eyes and you roll your eyes. Joshua's dressed in a black turtleneck layered under a neatly pressed black blazer, looking like he came straight out of a runway. His ebony hair is neatly styled, a few strands messily resting on his forehead and if you didn't find him so annoying you'd have probably asked him for a lunch date-

"Can you copy these for me, honey?" His voice is sickly sweet. You glare at him, zoning out of your thoughts, "Copy your goddamn reports yourself, honey."

"Please, you know how busy I am. I really would if I had the time, trust me," he says dropping the stack of papers on your desk and turning on his heel.

You jump from your chair, "Hong! Come back! Do you think I'm your fucking assistant?"

The man pays no attention to you, marching back into his private office, leaving you to fume. A while later you end up copying the reports for him and as you're doing so, Greta appears from Joshua's office making you stop her in her tracks.

"Greta! Hey, how are you?" You grin at your boss.

"Not bad. Just came to office. I've been in bed the last few days, had a horrible cold." She sighs. You nod. "Um, so...are you busy? I need to talk to you."

"Sure, let's talk in my office," Greta says heading down the lobby, her red pumps clinking rhythmically against the marble floor, to her office with you right behind her

"So...I was thinking that Joshua is getting all the good cases, no? Can't you hand some of them to me? You know I'm good at my job." You state to your boss, closing the door behind you as she stakes a seat behind her desk.

Greta laughs, "Oh, ___. Of course I know that. It's just that Joshua finishes the cases quicker, you know? He's practically a celebrity so all the clients personally request him to be their attorney so there isn't much for me to do. And I think it is a benefit for us, we get good publicity because of him and in the end I think we are all happy, no?" She smiles.

"But Greta!" You whine, "This isn't fair. He's- ugh, he isn't that good okay?"

Completely ignoring you, Greta rambles on, "I've an idea! Why don't you two work together?"

"What!"

"Together, like a team. You'd make great partners- even a couple-"

"Oh my god, are you insane?" You howl internally slapping your head.

"Why, I think it's a great idea! You two paired up would be the ace of our firm. You could be the cool attorney couple you know-"

Oh my god-

"You know what, I have a shit load of papers to copy so talk to you later," you force a smile at her, turning on your heel and running out of her office.

There's really no point in talking to her.

Sometimes you're left wondering if murdering Joshua would be such a bad thing.

-

"We're going camping this weekend, just to remind you," Edith says arranging her desk as work hours come to an end.

"Shoot, I really forgot. Thanks for reminding me," you rub your forehead. It has always been a tradition of this firm to go camping yearly with all the staffs.

"It's okay. Greta rented a couple mini-coaches for our department."

"Is she coming?"

"Maybe not. She was telling me that her sister's daughter is getting married that day."

"Oh no. She was so excited for this year's camp." You sigh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "I know right," Edith smiles, coming up to stand next to you, "Let's go get dinner together."

"Alright."

You both step into the elevator and as you're about to press the close button but a foot appears between the doors, making it halt.

The devil is here again.

You roll your eyes. Joshua smiles looking at the two of you as he steps in, "Good evening, ladies." "Evening, Josh," Edith smiles at him as you scoff.

Can the universe just not keep him away from you for a single day?

-

Weekend comes sooner than anticipated and you head to the office early in the morning to finish reading some of the leftover reports. You and Edith have planned to go to the camping spot together on her father's sedan instead of joining others in the coach. As you get on the elevator, you take your phone out to ring her up and tell her to pick you up in a couple hours, until her name flashes across your mobile screen.

"Hey Edith! I was about to call you!"

"___," her voice is groggy. "Forgive me, girl, I can't pick you up- in fact I ain't coming."

"What!" The elevator comes to a stop on your office floor but you stay rooted to the spot, "What do mean? What happened?"

"I'm sick. I'm so sick I could die," she whines from the other side as you rub your forehead frustratedly, stepping into your department.

"You were fine yesterday evening."

"I know, I know. I was until a god awful headache started last night. I thought I'd be fine in the morning but apparently I've a fever now."

"Oh no. Are you okay? Should I come over?"

"No no. It's okay. I'm sorry I can't pick you up. Just join the others in the coach."

"Yeah... About that. They left a while ago." You sigh, plopping down in your seat.

"What!"

"Yeah, I called Wonwoo to check up on them. They left."

"Oh no girl- I'm sorry, I should have informed you last night-"

"It's alright, Edith. I'll just take an Uber or something."

"Alright...call me when you get there."

"Kayy, rest well."

You stare at your desk for a while tapping your fingers, thinking about what to do. While you want to go camping with others the ride to the spot is a good two hours and you don't have the energy to sit through it alone in an Uber.

Damn it. Why did this have to happen to you?

You pinch the bridge of your nose, looking at the unread reports in front of you. You're about to open one and start going through it until you hear a sound- specifically the sound of a door opening.

You jolt up from your seat. Who's here so early in the morning on a weekend?

Cautiously, you step out of your cubicle and towards the source of the sound, your heart thumping loudly.

Did someone break in? Should you call Greta?

You're about to take the turn towards Joshua's corner office until suddenly somebody appears in your way. You scream on the top of your lungs, falling back while the other person does same.

"What the fuck-!"

You open your eyes to see Joshua, a horrified look on his face as he regards you with wide eyes.

"Oh my god, you asshole! You scared me to death!" You hiss, standing up straight and fixing your dress.

"You're the one who scared me shitless!" He snaps, clutching his chest, "What are you doing snooping around here?"

"I'm here to work, asshole. And I thought someone broke in." You cross your arms over your chest.

"Good lord," Joshua rubs his face. "I was so scared," he says, wearily walking past you to get to the printer.

You huff, fixing your dress. "What are you doing here? You aren't going to the camp?" You ask him, walking towards your cubicle.

"Yeah. I've some works to finish up." Joshua murmurs busy copying his papers. "What about you?"

"Yeah, me too. I've to go through some reports."

"Cool."

You stand against your cubicle, watching the man and wondering wether to ask him for a ride. Your ego doesn't sit right with the idea but much to your disappointment it's not like you've a better option. He's about to walk back into his office when call for him.

"Joshua!"

He turns around, a brow raised. "Um...Can you give me a ride? You see I was supposed to go to with Edith but she's sick and the others-"

"Sure," he says, nonchalant, not even letting you finish.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "It's not a big deal. We're going to the same place anyway. But you'll have to wait for a while. I'm not done yet."

"Sure! That's no problem. I've some work too." You smile, feeling awkward suddenly. You really didn't expect him to say yes.

"Cool."

-

When you and Joshua leave the office it's almost twelve in the noon. After loading your overnight bags in the trunk of his Audi, you get in the passenger's side, waiting for Joshua to start the car.

"Would like some music?" He asks as the engine purrs to life.

"I... don't mind," you mutter. This is something you never thought you'd be doing- going on a long drive with your archenemy, Joshua Hong. Even though it's because of forced circumstances, being in such proximity with Joshua gives you a weird feeling and a small part of you imagines how it'd be to be friends with him.

You glance at Joshua who has been quiet since starting the car, humming to the tune playing. You are struck by how good he looks, though this isn't the first time as one of the reason he manages to get on your nerves is because how effortlessly beautiful he is. Dressed in a blue cardigan over a white shirt and his hair sitting messily on his forehead- a look far different from his usual business attire- you can't help but swoon a little bit. Just a little bit, you say to yourself.

"You know, I never expected this," Joshua suddenly speaks, breaking your train of thoughts as you look away from his face, slightly embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" You question.

"This. Us, together, you know in a situation like this," he says, eyes on the road.

"What do you mean together?"

"Stop overthinking ____. I just meant that you hate me so much yet fate got you in my car going to the camp with me." He says.

"Fate my ass." You grumble crossing your arms. "This wouldn't have happened if Edith didn't get sick."

"Yeah. So it's fate." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Will you stop!" You hiss. "There is nothing fateful about this!" You motion your hand between the two of you. Joshua chuckles softly making you roll your eyes. "You really like getting on my nerves," You murmur, looking out the window. The sky looks a bit darker than earlier in the morning, overshadowed with black clouds now.

Damn, is it gonna rain?

"Why do you hate me so much?" Joshua asks out of the blue. The question catches you off guard as you blink at the man, processing it.

"I just...do."

"That's not an answer," He says, not sparing any glance at you.

"Well, it's not like you like me very much either," you huff.

"What makes you think I don't like you?" He looks at you this time. You're once again caught off guard, a strange feeling spreading through your heart. You don't have any real answer to that so you let out a sound of defeat and irritation, "Just focus on the road, Hong."

Joshua doesn't prod any further, going back to humming to the tune of the speaker. You look at your fidgeting hands.

Why do you hate Joshua?

Maybe because of the fact that he's so nice and gentle and he's easily everyone's favourite. Maybe because he became a celebrity in the firm overnight, overshadowing you. Maybe because he's so smart and handsome he makes your brain short-circuit. Or maybe because he shamelessly flirts with Alison and that makes you a little, just a little bit jealous. And maybe since you harbor these negative feelings towards him, you have assumed he did the same towards you.

"I don't hate you, for your information," Joshua breaks the silence, his voice soft, almost too quiet. "I don't know what gave you that impression."

You look at him but he doesn't meet your eyes, choosing to stare ahead instead. Silently you admire his face. While doing so, the words easily slip from your mouth, "Since I hate you I just assumed you hated me too."

Your voice sounds timid and you don't like it, why- you don't know. Joshua looks at you for a good moment before looking back at the road. "I see," is all he says.

The moments followed by is quiet until the clouds above starts roaring. You peer up through the window and sure enough, droplets of water have start falling down from the thick cast of clouds.

"It's raining," you whisper, more to yourself. "We checked the weather last week, it said it would be sunny."

"This doesn't look good," Joshua says squinting at the dark sky. "I think a storm is coming."

"Oh God, no." You sigh, a hand flying to your head. The drive to the camp is still a good hour and if there's a storm you have to stop on the way. Moments pass by and the rumbling of the sky grows louder, occasional thunder flashing across the sky. The droplets of water start getting bigger and faster and louder and soon enough you realize it's a hail storm.

"We're fucked," you whisper. "Undoubtedly," Joshua says, concentration fully on the road as it's hard to see clearly even though the windshield wipers continue swinging back and forth. "I think there should be a resting area somewhere nearby. Search it up."

You do so and your result shows that there's a motel a couple miles ahead. "There's a motel on the right a couple miles from here," you speak and Joshua nods, "Let's stop there for a while. I don't think the storm is stopping anytime soon."

By the looks of it, it really won't. The forecast reads that the storm is only gonna grow stronger and is not halting anytime soon, making you heave a sigh.

It takes you more time to reach the motel than it should because of the rain and there's hardly any space in the parking lot as it is packed with cars.

"Damn, I wonder if there's any room available," you say, looking at the view as Joshua finds a place to park.

"Would you like to stay in the car then?" Joshua asks as the Audi comes to a halt.

Your legs ache and the sound of hail crashing on the roof is only growing louder. No way you can sit here for the next few hours. "No, let's try and see if they have any room."

Joshua nods, starting to take off his cardigan. "Here, put this over your head and run. I'll grab our bags."

"Your sure?" Hesitantly you take the piece of cloth from him. He only nods.

The entrance to the motel is quite far as you've parked at the far end of the lot. You've to make a run for it.

"Alright I'm going then," you say, swinging the cardigan over your head as you open the door and run like your life depends on it.

When you're finally under the shade you take off the cardigan and realise that you aren't completely drenched, if that made things any better. However, Joshua won't be as you watch him quickly grab your bags and run towards you, already fully wet.

"Oh my God, you're drenched," you say pulling him under the shade and reaching for your overnight bag. "Well, they better have a room," Joshua smiles at you as you quickly usher him into the motel.

An old lady sits at the reception, stroking a black cat on her lap. Luck seems to be on your side as she informs you that there is one last room left at the fifth floor and gladly you both take it.

The place isn't dingy and dark like you expected it to be but it's still far from fancy carpets and smooth wallpapers. You both take the elevator and then step through the lobby and into your room- a fairly decent one considering the price.

A queen sized bed sits in the middle of the room with a bedside table and a small closet, and a decent looking television, accompanied by a shower.

"It's pretty good actually," you muse, dropping your bags and searching for your towel to dry yourself. "Yeah, they even have room service," Joshua says taking off his soaked shoes and socks.

"You should take a shower first, you're gonna catch a cold." Joshua nods, "I'll be quick," before disappearing into the bathroom while you lie down on the bed sighing deeply.

What a day.

-

After your shower you call Wonwoo, letting him know that you won't be there anytime soon.

"That's actually good," Wonwoo huffs. "The situation here was shit, we almost got blown away. Camping my ass." He throws a string of curses.

"Where are you all staying?"

"Luckily we found a resort nearby so we'll be staying the night there, the owner is really nice. Took pity on us and let us stay even though we didn't pre-book."

"Oh that's good. I'll talk to you later then."

"Kay. Stay safe, don't get blown away."

You laugh, "You too."

You hang up and set down your phone on the bedside table, watching Joshua who stands by the window, stroking a hand through his damp hair. He has put on a black tee that makes his chest and upper arms look impossibly muscular and it leaves little to your imagination. Was he always this bulky? His shoulders look so broad and your wonder how it would feel to dig your nails into-

Focus, ____.

"Others are staying at a resort for the night," you announce making Joshua turn to you. "That's good. There's another heavy shower coming. I think we've to spend the night here."

"Looks like it," you murmur, your mind wandering about the sleeping arrangement. Should you make him sleep on the couch? No, that would be plainly unnecessary. The bed is big enough for the two of you, you just need to stop yourself from making it awkward.

"It's okay, I'll sleep on the couch," Joshua seems to be able to read your mind, making you baffled. "There's no need for that," you frown. "The bed is big enough for both of us."

He shrugs, "Well, if it makes you uncomfortable I can always-"

"I'm fine with it," you declare, making him stop as he accepts with a nod.

You watch as Joshua settles down on the bed with his laptop, saying he'll get some work done- ever the workaholic Mr. Hong. That makes you regret not bringing your own laptop as you are left feeling bored as ever. You send a message to Edith letting her know that you've crashed on to a motel for the night with Joshua.

Bang him and bag him, she texts making you roll your eyes.

You then decide to settle down on the other side of the bed with a book to keep yourself busy. You flicker through the pages, your eyes skimming over to words printed on the beige paper, unable to concentrate. For some reason your mind feels wild and there's a weird feeling in your chest probably because of the proximity between you and Joshua. Every once in a while you sneak glances at him, to see him completely absorbed in his work. No wonder he's so good.

Sighing you rest the book on your chest and watch the rain hit the window. The environment is really serene expect for your heart which seems to be on a marathon, making you feel restless. And you can't help questioning yourself- since when did Joshua's presence affect you so much? Sure you've always found him annoying and he has an expertise in riling you up but the feelings you feel right now are completely different. Is it because it's just you two here? Or is it because you have suppressed some feelings about him and now they're threatening to come out?

"You read?" His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn to find him looking at you with an inquisitive face.

"Not much," comes your reply. He nods. "What about you?" You ask.

"I try to, when I have time."

A silence falls after that, the only sounds being the rain and thunder outside and your own breath. You stare at the ceiling, watching how a reflection falls on it. The clock on the wall reads 3 in the noon but the lack of natural light outside makes it look like it's evening. You've had a couple snacks after shower so you aren't really hungry for lunch, making you contemplate taking a nap.

You should just try to sleep, sleep through all of this and maybe when you wake up you won't feel so weird. But instead of doing that, you find yourself asking, "Do you have a girlfriend?" You peer up at him.

Joshua looks visibly surprised, if not a bit confused. "No..."

Oh.

You nod your head. There's a small silence before Joshua says, "What about you?"

"Me? I don't have a girlfriend either," you joke making him roll his eyes. You chuckle, "I'm single too."

Joshua says nothing more leaving you to your thoughts.

"Do you like Alison?" You blurt out and you don't know what posseses you to say that. The question makes Joshua sit up straight, frowning at you, "No! What makes you say that?"

You shrug, "Nothing. You two are all smiley and flirty with each other so I thought..."

"Well, she may have a thing for me but no way do I like Alison. Besides I think I'm smiley with everyone."

"Not me," you murmur. Joshua picks it up, "Are you complaining?"

"Nope."

There's another moment of silence before Joshua closes his laptop and looks at you, "Are you okay? You're being weird."

"What do you mean?" Frowning, you sit up.

"You know, this-" he motions between you two. "I think this is the first conversation we're having without cursing or being sarcastic and it's...weird."

"Do you want me to curse at you?"

"No- I didn't mean that-" He lets out a frustrated sigh making you smirk. You trace the invisible patterns on the bedsheets as you weigh wether to speak the words that rests on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if you will regret them later and that makes you stop yourself- until you change your mind again.

Taking a deep breath, you speak. "I don't hate you, Joshua."

This is probably the first time you've called him Joshua out loud and the name leaves a soothing feeling in your tongue which makes you want to call his name again. Seriously, what is wrong with you?

Joshua looks at you like you've grown an extra head, those beautiful big eyes of his going wider. "What?" He says.

"I don't hate you, not really," you repeat, sighing."It's just- I've always been competitive and seeing how you became so popular...I always saw you as a competition, I felt like I had to be better than you all the time. I didn't want to lose to you...I guess I was insecure for some reason."

He's quiet, staring at your face as he listens to you intently. It feels like the world has stopped moving. You ramble on, "And you're so nice! You're always gentle and kind with everyone and you're so goddamn handsome- you're literally perfect and it gets on my nerves!"

"You think I'm handsome?" Is all he says. You growl, "Is that all you heard?"

"Answer me," his tone is serious.

You huff, "I swear to God Joshua- of course you're handsome! You're the hottest guy I've ever met!"

You are seriously going to regret this later on. You're subconscious slaps her head at your loose mouth.

Joshua's eyes widen and they flash darkly leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. There's a beat of silence in which you pray that the ground would open and swallow you up before he speaks, "Well, since we seem to be confessing, let you tell you something. I really admire you, ___. I know at times I poke fun at you but it's just because you're really cute when you're all flustered. But other than that, you're one of the most talented and headstrong woman I've ever seen. And you're fucking pretty too."

Your mouth hangs open as you blink, trying to figure out if you're hearing things. On one hand you can't believe he said all those things on the other you can't help but squeal internally at what he thinks about you.

"Wow- I don't- I didn't knew that..." You whisper dumbly. Joshua releases a loud sigh, "It's true. And this will probably be good news for you- I'm thinking of taking a break. When I'm gone, my office will be yours so-"

"Wait what? Don't tell me you're quitting!" You frown, scooting closer to him. He can't be leaving for good, can he?

"I won't necessarily quit...it's just that the past couple months has been hectic and I've grown tired of the pressure. I think I need a break."

You open your mouth to speak yet no words come out. Instead you opt to drink him up as you've never been this close to him. He somehow looks even more beautiful, setting your heart aflame, your hands itching to trace the curve of his lips.

Swallowing you whisper. "I guess you deserve it. You're really talented Joshua. I may not have expressed it but I've always respected you too. You're great at what you do so no wonder everyone likes you. It was me who was immature. I'm sorry," the words slip through your tongue easily, surprising yourself. But once you've spoken them, you realize how true they are and how much you mean them. You've given everything up, bared your truest form to him and offered it in a silver platter. Now it's up to him to do whatever he wants with your honesty.

"Don't be sorry," Joshua smiles at you, his signature sweet smile, a hand reaching up to squeeze your arm. "I'm to be blamed too. I'm sorry."

You smile back at him, your heart fluttering and a tsunami of emotions going through you. "I guess we're good then, right?" You whisper, your voice sounding too emotional for your liking.

Joshua nods, "We are." There's a moment where you two simply stare at each other, drinking up one another as you engrave the details of his features in your mind. However, Joshua breaks the moment, "If I asked you to date me, what would you say?"

It's sudden and catches you completely off guard as you let out a noise of surprise and shock. Joshua doesn't say anything, mutely studying your face as you search for coherent words. "I'd...say yes," you whisper, awfully flustered.

"Really?" He seems shocked.

"Yes, really."

"Can I kiss you then?" He's blunt and shameless as he pulls you closer by the waist, his eyes shining dangerously, lips hovering over yours.

"Y-yes."

Immediately his lips crash against yours and you moan unashamedly. The kiss is raw- all teeth and tongue, the feelings and lust you had for each other all surfacing up. You move onto his lap, pulling his raven locks as you throw your legs over his both sides, your lips never leaving his. Breathless, Joshua pulls back and looks at you intently, "You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Me too," you pant. Joshua grins and pushes you down on the bed, caging his large body over yours. He smiles devilishly as he peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders, fondling your breasts over your tee shirt. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off before saying, "Tell me now if you don't want this. Once I start I won't be able to stop."

You grab his collar and pull him closer, "No- I want this. I want you Joshua."

The smile on his face is predatory, victorious, making your core clench and you think he's never looked hotter. And you know very well that he won't be done with you anytime soon.

-

The morning next day is all sunshine and chirping birds- making it almost unbelievable that there was a huge storm yesterday. You open your eyes, blinking furiously to adjust with all the light flooding in. Your eyes land on Joshua who folds his clothes into his bag and he must have sensed you because he looks up and throws a dashing smile towards you.

"Rise and shine, baby," he stalks towards you to drop a kiss on your forehead. "Get up. We need to get moving. Wonwoo called earlier, they're back at the camping spot."

You groan, stretching your limbs. There's a dull ache all over your body after last night's activities and you can't help but crack a smile at the memories, feeling giddy. You don't remember the last time you've felt like this. Sitting up, you ask, "What do they have for breakfast here?"

-

After getting dressed you both have breakfast- some toasts and omelette with coffee while chatting over the most random things. You easily understand that you both click perfectly and a small part of you regrets not giving in to your feelings earlier.

"You know, Greta wants us to work together, like... in a team." You wipe your mouth, finishing breakfast. Joshua raises an amused brow, "Really?"

"Yes, really," you smile. "She was talking about how together we'd be the ace of our firm and shit."

"Well, I mean she's not wrong though." Joshua shrugs noncommittally.

"What do you mean?"

"We'd make a great team, don't you think so? Besides, if we work together we'll be able to finish cases quicker. And my office is big enough for two people so..."

"You really wanna work with me?" You're surprised as you take a seat in front of him, inspecting his face.

"Of course, ___. Isn't it obvious? I mean I'm totally smitten by you so yeah." Joshua says, a pink tint in his cheek. You grin goofily, your insides melting at his words.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you move into his lap and say, "Well, I'll say yes only because I love your office."

"Really?" He grins before pecking your lips. "I also have have a personal microwave. And a Nespresso machine." He says with a cheeky smirk."

"You're so cheesy," you look away, trying to hide the heat that has spread all over your face.

"Of course you do!" You roll your eyes. "I'm taking them all," you feign anger, lips forming into a pout. Joshua laughs, a hearty beautiful laugh before murmuring, "I've no problem as long you also take my heart too."

"Only for you."

"Whatever. Let's get going, we're gonna be late," you say getting off his lap and start putting on your shoes.

"Everyone's gonna be surprised," you hear Joshua muse.

"Why?"

"We're the last two people on earth they imagined would become a couple," he says making you laugh. You gather all your bags, smiling, "Indeed, they're in for a huge surprise."

Joshua comes up next to you holding his bags in one hand and offering you the other, "Let's go give them their suprise then." You gladly take it, intertwining your fingers as you both step out of your room and towards the elevator.

And sure enough, when you two reach the camping spot, a serious of gasps from your coworkers welcome you, their eyes trained on your interlocked hands as they watch you both open mouthed. Well, they better get used to it.

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading this, please reblog and lemme know your thoughts! My asks as well as the comments section are always open so please spare a few seconds to let me know how you felt! Have a good day/night~

<< masterlist >>

[mypoisonedvine]

The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought.  unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once.  It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.  

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there?  Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression.  "Ahh, I get it.  You're not used to a female tailor.  Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that.  "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all.  The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors.  Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately.  "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man?  I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.  

“What?  No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky.  “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.  

"No, it's good for you!  She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily.  "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay.  "Depends.  How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently.  "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned.  "I'm leaving.  And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

//

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone.  It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call?  Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you.  Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long.  He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone.  Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way).  “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated.  “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.”  Was it too forward?  Too obvious?  And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me.  If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look.  But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room.  No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently.  Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else.  “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots.  “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted.  “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly.  “And socks, of course.  And some watches, maybe?  And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too.  I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy.  He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either.  As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.  

Worse, his gut was less innocent.  Mine, it demanded, all mine.  Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret.  You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.  

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space.  Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety.  Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

//

"So, what do you think?" 

I think you look so damn good from every angle.  I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again.  I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve.  I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.  

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality.  “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit.  The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent.  Most of all, your talent was undeniable.  "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly.  "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly?  I feel a bit… out of place.  I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.  

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery.  "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier.  Sometimes you're only a man.  And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts.  “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger.  “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel.  But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck.  The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.  

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.  

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?” 

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good?  Good looks?” 

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now.  Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.  

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you?  You had to.  You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something.  You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously.  “Uh, thanks.”  He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow.  You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted.  He selected the solid gold one, making you smile.  “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket.  Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter.  Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected.  This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version.  If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie.  And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled.  Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice.  It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary.  Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really?  Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan.  So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him.  He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed.  “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!” 

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated.  It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small.  “Why not?  You know how he is.  Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced.  “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry.  You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then?  You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not.  Nothing’s ever happened between us.  I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally?  Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question.  “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all.  Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him.  Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt. 

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something. 

"I know I certainly haven't.  And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong.  Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways.  "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly.  That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you.  “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered.  Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay?  I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one.  “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you.  “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…”  You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him.  “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.  

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at.  Conversation in any form typically stressed him out.  But this?  This he was still pretty good at.  And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly.  "Now look over there at that mirror.  Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length.  Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get.  God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.  

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh.  This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection.  “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet.  Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.  

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand.  “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.  

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it.  I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what?  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.  

"What material is this skirt made of?" 

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra.  If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess.  You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit.  "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me?  After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality.  “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it.  “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded.  “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you?  You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More?  Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first.  He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop.  You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.  

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you.  It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything.  It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,” you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”  

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after.  You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up.  He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you.  “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs.  Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it.  Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?” you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you.  He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk.  "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed.  You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own.  "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.  

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you?  I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again.  Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.  

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet.  I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm?  What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go.  His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you.  At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left.  He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout.  He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either.  He wanted to test you just a little.  He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in.  He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet.  You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time.  You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine.  He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this.  Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on.  Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right?  Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes.  Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl.  Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted. 

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment.  Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become.  When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment.  Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good.  Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace.  It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different.  You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want?  Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly.  "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected.  He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever.  He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened.  To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace.  He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh.  “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled.  “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work.  You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response.  Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him.  Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong.  You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his.  “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine?  Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed.  “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now.  Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context.  And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up.  “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence.  A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable.  Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something.  "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest.  "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.