#i gotta find a quick way to block them all because this is ridiculous

[numum]

i have gained almost one thousand bot followers over the span of a week 👍

[certifiedfreec]

i can’t stop thinking about neighbor!graves… 🤔

🏡 you’re new to the neighborhood, getting all your things moved in and seemingly drowning in all the boxes of stuff you have. you ordered some items to replace the ones that got damaged or lost during transit, so that only added on to the cardboard-ridden mess that was your new living room.

🏡 a few days after settling in, you finally notice one of your packages has a mysterious name on it: phillip graves. you suddenly feel bad; how long has this guy been missing his delivery?? you bustle out your door in your pajamas, looking for the house number that matches the one on the package until you finally find it. it’s a fairly large house with dark, sophisticated paint. it’s across and over from yours with a huge black truck backed into the driveway. very snazzy for a truck, you think, hurrying your way to the tall entry door and ringing the doorbell.

🏡 “hey, how can i help ya?” his slight twang is warm and uplifting when he opens the door, eyeing you with a keen interest. god, he’s pretty. he sees what’s standing before him in the cutest little pj set and he’s feeling like an angel was dropped at his doorstep. meanwhile, you’re freaking out- standing there in your scrubby pajamas in front of this ridiculously attractive man, who is apparently your neighbor, and you’ve been holding onto his package without him knowing. (you realize there’s another package of his you’d like to hold though- ba dum tss!)

🏡 you shyly introduce yourself, pointing toward your house and then handing him the box, which he accepts with a teasing “gonna have to tell the HOA about the new thief on the block,” and a quick wink. it nearly melts you, but we must stay focused brothers!! he thanks you and introduces himself as phillip, taking the chance to let you know that you caught him at a good time because he’s often out for extended periods of time with his work. the poor baby must exhaust himself with how busy he is :(

🏡 you hear what he’s saying and being the new, good little neighbor you are, you offer to swing by and grab his mail, check on his plants, and do some basic house upkeep whenever he’s gone. hook, line, and sinker- it’s just what he wants to hear. he accepts your offer with that pearly grin of his, but not without adding his contact info to your phone so he can let you know when he’ll be out of town :’) he’s just so handsome that you feel like you won the jackpot!

🏡 from that day on, it’s like you keep bumping into each other outside- how silly! you start to find some excuses to be out front, maybe to check your roof for any damage or plant some flowers along the side yard, and whaddaya know, neighbor!graves soon finds himself outside giving his big ‘ol truck a wash (you could swear it’s already spotless). god, those flexing muscles and the wet t-shirt clinging to them are much more interesting than your rhododendrons.

🏡 he’s such a friendly neighbor- he’s really taken a liking to you! <3 whenever he’s actually home, he’s got your grocery bags carried inside or he’s grilled some barbecue that you’d be “downright ridiculous not to try”- his words, not yours! it’s delicious, of course, and he credits all his skills to his old man and his “coworkers.” you decide to bake him some sweets in return, and he just about melts. you’re just so good, and so is your baking! he’d really like to taste something else though, too…

🏡 now, neighbor!graves is a pretty nosy guy, so he’s taken it upon himself to keep you in the loop on all the drama in the neighborhood. but really, can you blame him? it’s in his nature to find intel- someone in the community has to do it! this is also a subtle way of letting you know that he’ll be keeping an eye on you, too- because he’s gotta look out for his fellow neighbors, especially if they’re adorable ;)

🏡 eventually he’s away for a few weeks and you’re on deck to pick up his mail, water his indoor plants, all that good stuff. he gives you a key before he leaves and tells you “go ‘head and keep it, mi casa es su casa,” fully inviting you to get comfy in his space- and you do! his furniture is so sleek yet so cozy, his living room complete with a super plush leather couch and a ridiculously large tv. you gather from all his medals and badges decorating the place that he’s very accomplished at what he does- this guy’s the real deal. you also get a nagging feeling that you want to spend more time in his space- it’s just so comfortable, and it smells like sweet vetiver and crisp mint :’)

🏡 so… neighbor!graves, being the nosy guy that he is, has been tracking when you’ve been going over by checking his high-end front door camera from his phone. he can’t help but get flustered at the idea of you in his most personal space- god, he wants you in his bed- and he starts to remember your routine. when he’s finally finished with his operation, he may or may not schedule his flight so that he arrives home shortly after the time usually head over, and your entire body stills when you hear his garage go up. he walks in with some heavy-looking bags wearing an all-black outfit, and you almost swoon. he’s such a man.

🏡 woops, surprise! he apologizes for forgetting to mention when he’d be getting home. he’s so damn excited to see you in his house though, so cute and dutiful, having left his plants perfectly hydrated and not a speck of dust in the area. he has an inkling-no, a certainty- that you’d be an amazing housewife. he invites you to stick around for a drink since you’re already there anyway, and of course you accept since you’d be “downright ridiculous” if you didn’t!

🏡 after you fill him in on the neighborhood drama he missed over some scotch (he is loving your intel collection skills, by the way), he reaches for his wallet to get you some cash for all the trouble- this man was really about to give you a wad of hundreds for your menial house chores! unbelievable! you immediately shoo it away, insisting that it really was no big deal… well, now you’ve left him stumped, because how else could he ever show his appreciation for your hard work while he was away??

🏡 by eating your pussy, of course! it takes very little resistance on both your ends until you’re sprawled out on his luxuriously soft bed with his head between your thighs, moaning and mewling so loud from the perfect licks and swirls on your aching, needy clit that his front door camera can practically pick up on your noises :’) your slick is getting all over his satiny sheets, but he doesn’t even pay that any mind. a few sharp sucks to your sensitive bundle of nerves and the scratch of his light blond stubble along your inner thighs has you cumming so hard that you can’t help but chant his name- and he’ll be damned if that isn’t music to his ears! <3

🏡 he still doesn’t feel like he’s fully shown you his appreciation…maybe he needs to fuck the shit out of you too! he’s talking to you so nicely as he stretches your pulsing walls with his huge, veiny cock, reassuring you that you’re “such a good girl,” “lookin’ so gorgeous right now,” “takin’ me like a champ, baby.”… you’ve never felt so full, yet somehow you can’t get enough of him :( he decides to place a silky pillow under your hips so he can pummel into you from a deeper angle, and he leaves all kinds of purply marks along your chest as he tells you just how perfect your pussy is for him- god, he’s happy you moved here!

🏡 by now you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed around his length, and he finally coats your insides with his warm, thick spurts of cum as he groans your name. you both collapse onto his sheets, exhaustedly drifting to sleep just to do it all over again in the morning ;) he gets a hot shower ready for the both of you before kindly requesting some of your amazing baking- he even offers you to wear one of his t-shirts so you don’t get any ingredients on your own clothes! of course, you’re more than happy to oblige. after all, he’s such a friendly neighbor <3

[emoreooo]

doomed valentines 🥀

aka what if kel and aubrey took over sweetheart’s castle ?

this is an au where if you interact with the keeper of sweethearts castle as anyone but omori, it unlocks a whole new optional level. you wake up in the picnic area with hero but no kel or aubrey. sweethearts castle is different and basil joins you for this level

the castle's main towers seem to have split into two, but the main building remains one, and smaller from the outside. but it turns out to be unnaturally spacious at times, as if the building was a psychological maze trying to separate... certain people apart

you find aubrey. she looks different, but happier. “it's like a princess' dream come true. it’s everything i could ever want and more.” she says, smiling at you. “now... all i need left is my lovely prince charming—”

“hey, guys !!”

enter kel.

“ugh.”

kel also looks different, if not for the fact hes wearing an obnoxious shade of pink, head to toe. he is happy to see you all. “everyone here LOVES me ! they respect me and trust me and all that kinda stuff. man, i feel so powerful ! im never leaving this place !”

that didnt seem to sit right, so hero intervened. “but.. if you stayed here, wouldn’t you miss everyone else ? omori, basil, me... mari ?”

“well, duh ! that’s why you guys will be staying with me too !”

that broke a new fight between kel and aubrey, but for the wrong reasons

it ends with aubrey dragging basil along with her, hero with kel, and you alone on the bridge connecting the two towers. you have a choice to follow one of them first. lets say, kel.

you head for kels tower and find hero talking with kel, trying to convince his brother.

“didja know ?? the sprout moles here love me so much they made me offerings, like, im a god or something ! pretty cool huh ?”

“..offerings ?”

“yeah ! oh man.. hero, youre not jealous, right ?”

“wh— no. its just.. a bit ridiculous.”

“...ridiculous ?” kels confused expression contorts into a smile, that of understanding. “i see whats going on. its okay, hero, i know its gotta be tough to be put to the side. and overlooked. bet its weird not being in the spotlight for once.”

you caught a quick flash of horror written on heros face. “kel.. are you saying this because—”

“but its ok ! as long as were here, neither of us will ever have to feel that way !”

remaining determined, hero put his foot down. “thats enough, kel. you cant stay here.”

“yea, thats a good one, bro.”

“im... serious. were leaving, kel.”

the younger boy stops laughing. ”...oh. youre— why ?”

“i dont think this place is anything like it seems. i think its a sham.”

kel barks with laughter.

“oh so when it benefits ME is it a sham. man, how selfish can you be ?”

“...what ?”

“you really cant stand it when its not all about you, huh ? but what about me ? what about kel ?”

“i-i think this place is affecting you. please, kel, listen to me.”

“no. if you wanna leave so bad, fine ! the sprout moles can send you out. but im not leaving. im happy here anyway, and you wont get it.”

with that, kel leaves you two in his tower. hero seems distracted, before suggesting you both go find basil

you head for aubreys tower, only to find a scared basil locked in a cell. upon freeing him, he stares over your shoulder.

“o-omori.” he whispers. “...behind you.”

“well, well.. well !”

enter aubrey.

“aubrey! why was basil locked in?” hero asks, perplexed.

“hm? well, he kept trying to leave! i couldnt let that happen, not when i was sharing my happiness with him.” aubrey frowns. “i thought he was my friend.”

basil looks terrified. “aubrey.. i am your friend.”

“hmhm, of course you are. friends dont leave each other behind, right omori?”

hero once again steps in. “aubrey, i think youre taking this too far. of course we want you to be happy, but kidnapping your friends isnt the way. this place is messing with your heads, so we should leave before it gets worse.”

but your path is blocked by kel in the doorway.

“that wont do.” aubrey hums behind you, brandishing her shiny pink bat. “no.. not at all. what do you think, kel ?”

“i think its rude to leave in the middle of a party. right, hero? you taught me that one!”

“kel..”

he then takes a bow as aubrey joins him. “so, friends, may we have this dance?”

“let us sweep the floor !”

boss battle mechanics !

you can not change aubrey or kels emotions even at the start of the battle. the only ones who can change their emotions are each other, so the best strategy is to adapt with your own party’s emotion play

there are 4 phases to this battle. a neutral state, tier one emotion, tier two, and lastly tier three, much like most emotion based bosses. between each phases, aubrey will make kel happier, while kel makes aubrey angrier. they are not made to have the sad emotion, however,

if you end third phase with an attack from hero, kel will start fourth phase with a depressed emotion instead of manic, giving your team good advantage on winning since he relies on speed. aubrey will still be furious, but its still one enemy disadvantaged

once you defeat them they will go snork mimi in your arms and you must carry them out of the castle and back to mari.

“aww, i guess its past their royal nap time !”

[dragonsareourfuture]

Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

L

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT HOUSTON

Okay, I’m actually so happy with this one. Come talk about it with me in my inbox! 😌

warning: smut

please like, comment, share, rec!

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

It was a bit of a shock, well a lot of a shock when YN is scrolling through her instagram time and it becomes flooded with a gif of her husband passionately kissing a gorgeous blonde.

The trailer for Don’t Worry Darling had dropped out of nowhere and now there was a nasty feeling on jealously, insecurity, and possessiveness in the pit of her stomach.

She knew it was irrational, they were married for fucks sake, but those emotions weren’t always rational.

YN watched it, over and over, until she tossed her phone onto the side table hard enough that it slides off and falls harshly on the ground.

Harry and crew were downstairs, it didn’t look like the Houston show was going to happen because of the storm.

She felts ridiculous and immature for the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s not like she was upset or mad at him.

She was proud of him for his acting abilities and all of his hard work - that’s why she was mad at herself right now.

YN knows Harry is expecting her downstairs to help figure out details, what to do for the fans, etc.. because she was a major part of the production crew.

But she nearly felt like she was going to throw up.

Could you blame her?

Who on earth would want to see their significant other making out passionately for the world to swoon over?

YN scrubs the tears from her cheeks, hadn’t even realized they were falling.

She does the worst thing ever, pulls it back up and starts ready comments, especially from their friends - it almost felt like betrayal. Jeff, Glenne, Lambert, Gemma.

A message appears at the top of the screen.

Bunny 🐰: come on darling, need you down here. meeting is about to start 😗

Her fingers hesitate.

yn: be down in five

Bunny 🐰: is everything okay? where’s my kiss? 😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗

She sighs, she feels bad because it’s not his fault.

He had been offered the role, came home and instantly told his wife that if she wasn’t comfortable with him having romantic scenes - he’d turn it down.

YN wasn’t like that.

When she was being logically she would never want to stand in the way of Harry persuing his dreams.

It was acting and she had even been on set a few times when there were heated scenes but it just felt different - uncomfortable.

YN throws one of the bunny merch hoodies, a pair of cropped leggings, and black nikes before heading down from their suite to the conference room.

Harry had purposefully kept the seat open for her, right next to him, and she slips into quietly as they continue to talk.

There were a lot of higher ups in the room, from the venue, the touring company, his team - deciding on what they should do about the weather warning.

He instantly tugs her as close of possible to him with a long arm wrapped around her shoulder and a subtle kiss to the side of her head.

They’re talking about the people standing outside in the rain for GA, they all get quiet, and Harry nudges his wife, “Darling, they’re talking t’you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?” YN asks, eyes a bit wide in embarrassment at all the stares on her face.

A venue manager speaks up, “How do you think the fans will react and how can we ensure them of another show here. We do not want to lose the business of this concert.”

“Obviously upset. People have flown in for the concert - so maybe if you reach out to some of those fans and reimbursement their flights, they’d be more likely to come back and that would look good on you guys,” YN offers, tense and trying to ignore Harry’s concerned expression - he could always tell.

“Jamie, get on that,” The man orders with an executive nod that he liked the idea and Harry squeezes her shoulder lovingly.

The meeting goes on, she would normally wait for Harry to wade through all the people wanting to speak to him but she zips through the maze of bodies and back down the corridor to the elevator.

She about there when she hears someone running to catch up with her, knows exactly who it is when he pulls her back into his strong chest.

“Wha’s wrong?” Her husband murmurs in her ear, lips brushing softly and his arms keeping her as close as possible.

“It’s nothing, I just need some time alone,” YN sighs, stepping out of his warm embrace and turning to face him.

“Did I do somethin’? Baby, c’mon,” He coaxes, frowning as he studies her face, “Talk t’me, please.”

“I’m just - I’m being dumb,” She chuckles with no humor in her tone, tears welling again and she is quick to cover her face in her sleeve because fans are being to notice them.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get y’upstairs,” Harry replies, guiding her towards the elevator and throwing his arm around her to block her - it would look playful in the fan photos.

The crowd gets irritated when Harry refuses to stop and sign things, take pictures but his bodyguards quickly block them from getting to close.

Once in the elevator, alone, Harry cups her face gently, “Baby, y’gotta tell me what’s going on, m’confused.”

“The trailer, it came out and -“

Harry is perplexed for a moment, “Is that why everyone’s blowing up m’phone?”

Then he’s pulling it out, swiping a few times, and the short ten-second trailer is playing across his screen and he knows instantly.

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, tucking it back into his pocket, “M’sorry-“

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” YN interrupts him, eyes frantic as she speaks, “I’m not - It’s not your fault. I just wasn’t expecting it and it threw me off. I am so proud of you -“

“But y’a bit jealous, huh?” Harry smirks, rubbing his thumb against her bottom lip lightly, tugging to tease a bit.

“You’re my husband. Of course, I don’t want to see you do that with anyone else,” YN replies, watching as her husbands eyes meld into something fiery and golden.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asks, voice deepening into what YN likes to call his sex voice and it really does work - makes her stomach flip.

“Harry, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m re-“

Harry hits the red stop button on elevator, pausing the movement - it was a single elevator to the penthouse so it wasn’t effecting the rest of the hotel guests.

“Let me tell you a secret. The day we had to film tha’ scene, when I had to kiss someone who wasn’t you over and over again. When I had to act like I would fuck someone other than you,” Harry’s teeth are grazing her jugular dangerously, his breathe minty and cool, “You remember that one night on the balcony?”

“Mm,” YN agrees shakily, she remembers that night a few months ago well.

-

Harry had come home from set with a mission.

He hadn’t disclosed what happened that day and YN had completely forgotten to ask later on.

When he stormed through their master bedroom and swung open the balcony doors, his eyes fall hungrily on his wife who’s reading a book on their balcony. ***

Her skin was glowing on the dim fairy lights and reflection of the moon, it was late- nearly midnight when he’d finally gotten home.

She was lounging on the sofa, sprawled in a silk pajama set that was simple but so sexy in the way her natural breasts lay without a bra - nipples poking at the fabric.

It had only taken him a moment, he’d been hard the whole ride home thinking about his wife, and when he saw that, he was striding over and murmuring, “You know your safe words, right baby?”

-

It was him eating her out hungrily, ridding her of her clothes and him still fully dressed as he nipped and sucked at her clit.

-

Then he had bent her over the balcony railing, overlooking the Hollywood hills where surely their neighbors could have seen if they squinted.

His fingers were digging harshly into her backside, thrusting and having her tits sway with the force as he praised her on how well she took it.

-

And it ended with back on the couch, her legs soaked from her multiple releases, skin smattered in bruises and love bites, and Harry kissing her roughly as he pinched her clit and released inside her.

-

“The reason I wrecked y’tha’ night was because doing all that shit on set made me want to come straight home to m’wife,” Harry whispers like there’s other people in the elevator with them.

“Harry,” She mutters shyly, avoiding eye contact and looking down to the marble floor.

“No, look at me, baby. All I could think about were how much better your mouth feels, how no one can ever compare to how fuckin’ sexy y’are,” He rumbles, his hand is slipping underneath her hoodie and palming at her belly.

“Love you,” YN replies, reaching up to press their lips together and whine when his tongue automatically finds it way into her mouth.

“Been with you since I was fifteen. Y’know tha’? There’s a reason for that, s’because nobody gets to me like you do. You always make me crave more. The reason I put that rock on y’finger and y’name on m’bank account.”

“Bunny, please.”

Harry smirks against her lips, “Please what?”

“Fuck me, c’mon,” She begs desperately, his hand teasing at the waistband of her leggings but not giving her anything.

“Gotta give it t’you when you ask, s’my husbandly duty,” Harry kisses her again, hands moving to tug them down.

“Yes, be a good husband,” She scolds, getting on her tiptoes out of instinct as he slips two fingers up into her.

“M’tryin’,” He gruffs, hissing at how wet she is for him as he curls his fingers towards the front her wall to hit her spot, “Only one f’me. Never want anyone else, been an love-struck idiot for you since I was fifteen.”

-

After they finish, Harry presses the button to restart the elevator and they’re both panting, with a light sheen on sweat.

When they step into the foyer of the penthouse, Harry cups her face and makes sure he has her full attention.

“I love you. If this movie or me acting with other people romantically is too much for you. Please tel me, m’job is never more important than m’marriage,” He says seriously, face still splotchy from coming in the sticky, hot elevator.

She shakes her head, “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable - well, not when I’m thinking logically. I’m proud of you, I can’t wait to see the movie.”

“I love y’so much, sunflower. Y’my soulmate, the reason I have the courage and confidence is because of you.”

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Down By The Docks

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1810

This is inspired by another request, from an anon this time.

The idea is a '40's AU. I wasn't totally sure if that meant they wanted a story totally set in the 1940's or something that just didn't reference the war, or pretended the war wasn't on/our characters aren't involved in the war, so I just picked one.

Hope this is what you wanted anon!

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

Bucky Barnes was one of the best looking fellas Y/n had ever laid eyes on, of that he was sure. It was only his second day working down on the docks, but he was sure he could happily spend the rest of his life working this menial job if the view never changed.

He was always quick with a smile for a pretty dame or even, Y/n had noticed, a particularly handsome fella.

Y/n had thought for sure he had imagined seeing his 'impressing a pretty dame' smile aimed at the bloke who had delivered a sack of letters to the area they were working in.

He would have written it off as the heat getting to him if not for that very same smile being directed his way later that day while they were all sitting around eating their lunches.

None of the other's seemed to have picked up Bucky's brazen flirting with both genders, or maybe they just didn't care. That last one seemed pretty unlikely though.

Y/n just hiked up a brow at Bucky the second time he shot him that pretty smile. He had no idea what to do with that. It couldn't be helped that it was illegal to be that way, that was just the way of the world.

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

Y/n was sure that Bucky was trying to kill him.

He had shown up to work wearing his standard work wear. Just the worn whites and browns of clothes that had been washed too many times but that you couldn't afford to throw out yet.

It just wasn't fair that the day was particularly warm, so everyone had ended up stripped down to their pants. All those half naked male bodies glimmering with sweat, the noises they made unconsciously as they lifted boxes full of cargo and moved them to where they needed to go.

And right there, in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes. Poor Y/n had ended up being sent home from being 'affected by the sun'. It wasn't his fault dammit, Bucky had been parading around looking good enough to eat. Y/n was ashamed to find himself literally walking into poles and walls in his preoccupation with the half naked Bucky.

----------

Y/n sighed in relief. Tonight was going to be blessedly free of one Bucky Barnes, perpetual thorn in his gay side.

He was going out to a bar. It was an open secret that this particular bar was a gay bar. The cops in that area were happy to turn a blind eye to it largely because several of them were known regulars there.

That didn't mean you could just go about talking about it, or anything that went on inside it while you weren't there.

It was still illegal after all.

Y/n leaned back into his booth and sighed happily. A nice drink, some eye candy that wouldn't beat the crap out of him just for giving them the eye, and a little dancing ought to make his worries just float away.

Y/n had been looking forward to this all week.

Damn Barnes to hell and back.

Y/n moved over to the bar to order himself something silly. He was feeling the need for some ridiculousness tonight.

He had just taken his first sip of his drink when he spotted him. There he was, standing by the bar just a little ways down from Y/n, seemingly ordering a drink.

Y/n tried valiantly to not spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar. He had paid good money for that drink and he would be damned if he wasted it.

It didn't work very well. Some of it ended up coming out of his nose, and as he hacked up the parts of it that went down the wrong pipe to choke him, the rest dribbled down his chin.

'Well, that was attractive,' Y/n thought drily.

"Oh gosh, are you alright? Here, let me help."

Y/n turned watering eyes on the man addressing him.

He was met with a short blond who looked like a stiff wind could knock him over if he wasn't careful.

He was holding out a handkerchief and looking unsure of himself.

Y/n went to reassure the stranger that he was fine, but some small remaining part of the drink that hadn't been attempting to kill him before chose that moment to do so. Instead of words, he could only hack and cough, trying to get the liquid out of his lungs.

Y/n felt a hand on his back moving in firm circles, trying to help. He looked back over at the man to find him at his side frowning as he rubbed at Y/n's back.

When Y/n could finally speak properly he took the handkerchief, which had once again been offered, to clean his face of tears and spit and snot.

'Who'd have thought that alcohol burned so badly going into a person's nose and lungs?' Y/n thought disgustedly.

When he had cleaned himself up properly and turned back to his savior he suddenly realised he had no idea how to make this situation any less awkward.

The other man apparently had no such reservations.

"I'm Steve by the way. That looked pretty painful. Are you okay now?"

He was so earnest, and it didn't look like he was laughing at Y/n at all, so he could only nod vaguely.

"Yeah, I was just surprised by something. I'm Y/n, just so you know."

Y/n paused, feeling every bit as awkward as he ever had.

"Um, after that bit of excitement, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Murderous drinks aside it was nice meeting you. Can I clean this and bring it back here some time for you Steve?"

Y/n held up the thoroughly soaked handkerchief, cringing internally.

"Oh, don't worry about it, but are you sure you don't want to stay for a little bit longer? I'm here with my friend, but he's never very good company when there's dancing and alcohol involved."

Y/n mulled it over for a second, before manners kicked in.

"Yeah, no worries. I could stay for a bit longer, if only to save you from a lonely evening."

Steve's smile was sweet, but Y/n also couldn't detect anything else behind it. It didn't seem like he was trying to hit on Y/n, just that he didn't want to spend the night alone while his 'friend' danced the night away.

Y/n followed behind Steve as he led him over to the booth that Y/n had originally been sitting in.

Y/n stopped still at the sight of who was sitting across from Steve. Bucky dang-it-all-to-heck Barnes.

At their approach, Bucky turned away from the two women sitting with him in the booth. His handsome face lit up when he registered who it was standing in front of him.

"Stevie, there you are. I was starting to think you ditched me earlier than ever, but look what you found. I should bring you here more often."

Steve just gave Bucky a blank look.

Y/n couldn't blame him. If his 'good friend' had taken him out for a night of fun, he wouldn't have appreciated him looking at other guys that way either. He wasn't exactly backward in letting people know he was interested from the sounds of it.

Y/n stood awkwardly by the booth, not really sure if he should still be there. He had followed Steve to keep him company, but if it were him in Steve's shoes right now, he'd want him to leave.

"Um, I think I should probably head off actually."

Steve turned back to Y/n looking confused.

"Oh, well if you're sure. You don't have to stay if you don't want to of course."

Y/n refused to acknowledge the fact that Bucky was honest to goodness pouting. Was there anything in this world that was fair?

"Well, at least let me walk you out."

There would be no arguing apparently, as Bucky was already out of his seat and herding Y/n to the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Y/n barely managed to turn to yell to Steve as he was pulled away by the ever insistent Bucky.

Once they made it outside Bucky paused and turned to face Y/n.

"Hey."

Y/n turned to face him.

"Gotta say, I'm gettin' a bit confused here."

Y/n frowned but stayed silent.

"When we met at work I thought you were pretty cute, but you don't hit on people down by the docks if you wanna live to see the next sunrise, you know? But then you were always starin' an I thought, maybe you mighta been interested. Then that day you kept walkin' into things happened and I was pretty dang sure you were."

Y/n was blushing by now.

'Great so he did notice.'

"But then I see you here."

Bucky had moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking softer.

"An, no offense to Stevie, but he's not exactly every guys dream-boat. You know, I don't even think he knows this is a gay bar."

He broke off here to chuckle quietly. He was standing so close, he was practically pressing Y/n up against the wall of the bar.

"But then you're actin' all stand-offish. Like you can't even bare to look at me. So, what's a guy to think?"

Bucky seems to realise how this might be coming across and pulls away to give Y/n some room.

"Do I got a shot with you Y/n?"

Y/n had been floating somewhere dreamy with Bucky pressed up so close to him, but when he pulled away, reality came crashing down. How dare he ask questions like that when Steve was in there waiting for him to get back?

"You got some nerve Barnes. You can't just ask anyone out. Not when you got a fantastic guy like that waiting for you in there!"

"Fantastic guy? What-"

Y/n cut him off before he could sweet talk his way out of this.

"Steve! He's sweet, and kind and probably way too good for someone who flirts with everyone on the block!"

Bucky was laughing, which Y/n thought was way out of line.

"Wha, Y/n, Steve's just a friend. He don't even swing that way."

Y/n's face lit up with the brightest blush he had ever felt. He was sure he was going to actually self-combust before long.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So is that why you looked at me like that?"

He moved closer again, and when he spoke that damned silver tongue was back.

"I would never. When I'm with someone, they're the most important person in the world to me. Besides, how could I ever look my ma in the face again if I treated my partner like that?"

Y/n blushed fiercely.

"So whaddya say? Give me a shot?"

Y/n could only nod, face still a brilliant red.

[whump-a-la-mode]

A hero is in a coma. Villain visits them every single day, loosing sleep, not eating, their life is now completely focused around the empty hospital room.

Until hero wakes up and notices how sick villain has become due to anxiety and not taking care of themselves. Caretaking?

This is such a cute ask!! There’s only a little caretaking, but as always I’d be happy to write some more ^^

To all non-Americans out there, I am so sorry for using our weird 12 hour clock in this piece

CW//Comas, medical settings, just some horrible self care, mentions of explosions, bad hygiene, sleep deprivation, low self esteem, blaming self, strong language

“How are they doing?”

The voice alone was enough to make Doctor jump, spinning on their heels with such quickness that their shoes squealed on the tiled hospital floor.

Oh. It was just Villain.

Just Villain. It was a ridiculous thought to have, and they were well aware of that fact. Only a few short weeks ago, the name would have been enough to make any well-minded civilian tremble. It was bad enough, to hear it spoken on the news. Worse, to hear it not coming from a television-- in some cases, that name was all the warning one was given, before a terrible fate befell them. A nameless causality in the never-ending battle of good and evil.

But, now, there was no terror associated with it.

Most hospitals, Doctor was well aware, were fortunate enough that villains did not often pass through their doors. When they did, in the best cases, it was to seek treatment. In the worst cases, they had far more destructive intentions.

Their hospital, however, was an exception. There is a saying, that one can get used to anything, and with their experience, they now believed it to be more than true.

Doctor sighed, letting their shoulders fall.

“Visiting hours are over, Villain. You need to go home.”

The villain’s eyes widened, flickering momentarily to the nearest clock. In fact, it was past the end of visiting hours. Well past. Night rounds were about to begin, even.

It was simply so easy to forget Villain, hunched over in their little plastic chair.

Especially with those big, pathetic eyes with which they regarded Doctor.

“I can’t leave.” They pleaded. “Not yet. Can’t I stay just another hour?”

“No, Villain. We’ve been over this. You can come back tomorrow, bright and early, right at seven.”

“But it’s eleven, now! That’s eight hours. Eight hours they’ll be alone.”

“Not alone.” Doctor bit their lower lip. They knew full well that the person before them could render them to a charred corpse in mere seconds, if they so wished. Their tense, skipping heartbeat wouldn’t let them forget it. But, there was no malice in their eyes. Not an ounce. Only that terrible, pitiful sorrow. The sorrow that never seemed to leave them. “There’s people here, all night. A whole medical staff. If anything happens, they won’t be alone. I promise.”

Villain’s lip quivered. Weren’t they supposed to be dangerous?

“You’re sure I can’t stay? Just another hour?”

“I’m sure.”

“O-Okay.” The villain reached into their shoulder bag, and, for a moment, Doctor nearly pressed the nearest panic alarm. Yet, they withdrew no weapon. Instead, Villain took a small, spiral-bound notebook in hand, offering it. “Here are my notes. Um, just so you know. What they did today.”

Doctor’s gaze downcast to the paper. They already had three of these, piled on their desk. Filled to the brim. This one had only recently been started.

The page the notebook was turned to displayed the same thing as all the rest: Impeccably neat handwriting, dividing the page into half hour blocks. In each, letters of equal quality described the patient’s condition, down to the most minute detail.

3:30 - Minor twitching of the eyelids accompanied by singular irregular heartbeat.

4:00 - No abnormalities.

4:30 - Twitching of left index finger.

5:00 - Abnormal breath at around 5:12.

It was the best-kept record of a comatose patient’s condition that Doctor had ever seen. Even if it wasn’t exactly helpful, with how repetitive the patient’s movements tended to be, it was downright impressive.

“Thank you, Villain. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you at seven?”

“Is there any chance I could come in earlier than that?”

“No. I’m sorry. Visiting hours start at seven.”

“I’m quiet. You know I’m quiet. I won’t be a bother to anybody.”

“I know, Villain. If...” They knew they needed to say something, or this argument would continue all night long. “If anything happens, we have your number on file. I’ll call you myself.”

“Really?” Their eyes widened. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t hide in the bathroom and try to stay late this time?”

“You saw?”

“Everyone saw, Villain. Now, you’ve gotta skedaddle.”

The villain nodded hesitantly, looking to their shoes as they turned, moving down the hallway. As they left, Doctor could not help but mutter in their wake:

“And get some rest.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Six weeks.

Those two words echoed hollowly in Villain’s mind as they plodded along the damp sidewalk, lit only by the dewy echoes of streetlights overhead. The hour was late enough, and the city tired enough, that the streets were nearly deserted-- a state they were in so very rarely.

Their henchmen had spoken to them so many times, lecturing them that moving through the city’s depths, alone and unprotected, was terribly dangerous. Any hero, or any vigilante too cocky for their own good, could try their luck in an ambush.

But, Villain could hardly bring themself to care.

Six weeks.

That was all they cared about.

Six weeks since Hero had moved. Six weeks since they’d spoken, since they’d awoken. Exactly six, now.

Exactly six weeks since...

Villain’s hands clenched to fists at their sides, overgrown nails digging into the meat of their palms.

Since they’d made the biggest mistake of their life. Since the two sworn nemeses, Hero and Villain, light and dark, good and evil, had had their final battle. An industrial sabotage gone wrong.

They should have known better! Better than to use their pyrokenisis in an oil refinery.

But, that hadn’t. They hadn’t been thinking. They never thought! They were so stupid, so reckless, so careless...

Villain’s ears still rung from the explosion.

Their injuries meant nothing, even as they still throbbed. No. Because, for the last six weeks, they had been awake. Moving. Talking.

Hero hadn’t been so lucky.

When they at last arrived at their HQ, the halls were silent. Life existed only in the form of a scattering of guards, nodding their respects, but making no other gestures.

It was with weary legs that Villain ascended to their bedroom. They hardly noticed its state-- they’d grown used to the scatterings of clothes and papers. Instead, upon opening the door, their eyes snapped to the bed.

More specifically, the item upon it. They rushed to it, yanking it off the mussed blankets.

A book. A note, upon its cover.

“Went to bed before I could give this to you. It’s that book you wanted - Henchman”

Villain removed the note, far more interested in the cover it hid.

A Neurologist’s Guide to Chronic Vegetative States

There were more than enough pages within to last them until sunrise; until visiting hours at last recommenced.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

At 5:40, the sun began its ascent, bathing the sky in a dull hue of blue.

When six o’ clock came, the first rays of light could be seen, flashing over the horizon.

With the strike of 6:10, Villain placed down their book. They were only around halfway through-- wandering eyes and brief minutes of dozing lowering the speed at which their foggy mind could process the medical textbook.

They would have more than enough time to read, the next night. The book didn’t matter. What mattered was that visiting hours would commence in 50 minutes, exactly.

Twenty minutes to walk to the hospital. Meaning that, to get there early, they needed to leave in fifteen.

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Villain rose from their chair, knees popping and cracking all the way to the bedroom door. Quickly, they changed into the cleanest clothes they could find, if only for the sake of appearances, before heading out.

Showering could wait. Showers took time, time that could be spend watching. Reading. Taking notes.

Helping. Doing anything, anything they could to help.

Emerging into the hallway, they startled a moment. The lights had already been turned on, despite the fact that their henchmen never awoke this early. Perhaps they had simply forgotten to turn them off the night prior.

Yet, there were noises, from downstairs.

There was no fear left in their body to feel. Justifications were quickly made, and they ran down the stairs.

Entering the kitchen, a scent hit Villain, forceful as a gust of wind. The scent of food-- warm and fresh and garnished with garlic.

Before the stove, Henchman stood. Out of all those Villain employed, Henchman was the least likely to be awake at such an hour. Often, they dragged themself from bed well after ten.

Yet, here they stood, flipping a pancake in a skillet.

“Hey, boss.” Their henchman turned, a grin glimmering upon their face. “I’m almost done here. Get yourself something to drink.”

Villain blinked.

“What... are you doing?”

“Making breakfast? I thought that’d be pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But... Why? You never eat breakfast.”

“Yeah. It’s not for me. ‘s for you, boss.”

They shook their head, glancing at the clock. 6:17.

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I really need to get going.”

“Boss.” There was an endeared, yet frustrated, tone to the voice. “When was the last time you ate?”

“You made me eat a granola bar yesterday.”

“And the day before that, you didn’t eat anything. So, you’re eating breakfast, if I have to shove it down your throat.”

They clenched their hands to fists.

“I don’t have time for this! Visiting hours are going to start soon. I need to be there.”

“No. You need to eat. Then you can go to the hospital.”

“You don’t get to decide that. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Boss.” Henchman slid the pancake onto a plate before deftly stepping between their boss and the front door. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you look like hell. I know you haven’t been sleeping. Everyone knows it. If you keep acting like this, you’re going to be the one in a hospital bed.”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Maybe that’s what I deserve. Now, fuck off. Get someone else to eat your damn pancakes.”

With those words, and furious footsteps, they emerged onto the sidewalk outside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Receptionist arrived at their desk, there was already a patron, sitting in their waiting room.

A few short weeks ago, such would have been unusual. While other parts of the hospital were occupied day and night, the appointments handled by this room did not begin until the hospital actually opened-- right at seven.

Now, though, there was nothing strange about it.

Before they could so much as sit down, Villain was already moving towards them.

Receptionist could not help but note their appearance.

Working in a hospital, they had long since grown used to seeing the sick and injured. And yet, there was something particularly distressing about this case.

They supposed, it was because they had seen it happen. Usually, when patients arrived at the hospital, it was because they could no longer manage their own conditions. Their bodies were in shambles. They showed up in their damaged states.

Villain, on the other hand, had first appeared to the waiting room is relatively good health.

Then, they had begun to appear tired.

And thin.

Now, their appearance matched that of the comatose patient that they were here to see. Skin clung taught about their cheekbones, their flesh pale and eyes glazed over. Most semblances of hygiene had been abandoned entirely; some parts of their hair had even begun to mat, and dirt clung to them like caked and cracked makeup.

But, there was something else in their eyes. The sheer essence of undying compassion.

It was that alone that prevented Receptionist from sending them away.

Villain had no need to speak. As soon as they had time to sit, the hospital employee had paged the proper floor-- a sequence of buttons that had quickly become muscle memory.

“You can go up, now.” They spoke. With a wearied nod, Villain moved to begin their ceaseless watch.

Neither of them could have guessed that, an hour later, the unthinkable would come true.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Hero awoke, it was to the sound of a pencil, scratching at paper.

The world filled in with a terrible, exhaustion tedium. Above them, blurs of white and grey turned to a sterile, white tile, while the world about solidified to four pale, beige walls.

A hospital. They’d been in enough to recognize as such, with just how clumsy their teammates tended to be.

But why were they here, now...? Who had gotten hurt, this time? They couldn’t quite remember.

Rolling onto their side, the question was quickly answered.

Villain appeared to be on death’s doorstep, about to press the doorbell. Matted hair clung to their neck, eyes drooping and skin appearing as though there was no blood beneath it at all.

At the very least, they had made it to the hospital before suffering any serious damage.

Wait.

It was only then that Hero realized who exactly was in the room’s hospital bed.

[es-kay-zee]

Advice | Seo Changbin x Reader

pairing: changbin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: very very soft dom! reader (like, ridiculously soft), sub! idol, afab reader, oral (m receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise

requested: yes

word count: 4.3k

proofread: surprisingly yes :) although it was very brief so there could still be mistakes lol

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @qtieskz @vogueinnie

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! i thrive off of it! i love hearing what you guys think about my writing so feel free to let me know what y'all think of this one :)

____________________

A loud knock at your door was the last thing you expected at 11.43pm on a Tuesday night. Especially in the middle of a pandemic. But the most surprising part about it, was when you opened the door, you found your co-worker Changbin standing outside.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, peering over his shoulder and seeing his car parked on the side of the road.

“I need your help,” he replies, holding up various work folders, using the best pleading look he can muster up.

“You came all this way, just for some advice on a case?”

“Yeah. I know it’s late. I just-” he pauses for a second, sighing deeply and running a hand down his face. “I just need to have this done by the day after tomorrow, and I’m struggling with it. It keeps playing on my mind and I haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep because of it.”

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. It’s not uncommon for Changbin to ask your advice on occasion, especially considering you’re a few years his senior, but what is uncommon is for him to show up at your house to ask. And you were just about to head to bed.

“Okay, come in,” you say before you can stop yourself, and you aren’t entirely sure why you invite him in. Sure, he needs the advice, but you’re tired and want sleep. You could’ve asked him to come back in the morning. But he’s here now and you’ve already invited him in. “Just put the stuff out on the coffee table.”

He does as you instruct, walking towards the couch, taking a seat and spreading some of the folders out on the small table.

“You want anything to drink?” you ask, walking towards the kitchen.

“Maybe just a glass of water, thanks,” he calls back.

You return to the living room, two glasses in your hands. You sit down next to Changbin, placing the glasses on the table, one in front of him and the other in front of yourself. He picks up his glass, takes a sip, and clears his throat before beginning to explain the case and what he needs help with. A short while passes, filled with him asking questions and you answering as best as you can. But you can’t help but notice that Changbin’s eyes keep running down your body every now and then. It’s obvious that he thinks he’s being subtle about it but based on the fact that you’ve watched him do it almost every time means that he’s anything but. It’s even more obvious how distracted he is, because of the number of times he asks you to repeat what you’ve said throughout the night so far.

An idea pops into your had, a rather devilish thought. You don’t know what compels you to do it, maybe it’s the crush you’ve had on him for the past year, or maybe it’s just the desire to get him worked up. You’re not entirely sure, but you do it anyway. You stand up, and Changbin’s eyes flick over to you, but he’s quick to avert his gaze back to the files on the table, not wanting to be caught staring at you. And that’s the moment you initiate your plan, quickly undoing the top two buttons of your black satin pajama shirt while he’s not looking. You round the table and take a seat on the floor, across from Changbin. You have to hold back a laugh when his eyes immediately land upon the now exposed skin of your chest. It’s entertaining, how just a simple pop of a button has the man so flustered.

You lean forward, further emphasising your cleavage under the guise of looking at the files, and it’s faint, but you can hear the low groan that leaves Changbin’s parted lips. You look up at him, and you can’t hide the smirk at the way his eyes are fixated on your chest. He hasn’t even noticed you looking at him.

“My eyes are up here,” you say, and the way Changbin jumps slightly at your words is almost enough to make you laugh.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” The tips of his ears are red, and judging by the bulge in his sweatpants, the tip of his dick is probably the same colour. He’s quick to catch you looking at his bulge, grabbing one of your couch cushions and placing it over his lap, blocking the view from your eyes.

“Do you need any more help?” you ask, holding up a file. But the way your eyes continue to stare at his obscured lap makes it obvious that you’re not talking about the case. He clutches the cushion tighter, squirming slightly in his seat at the added pressure on his crotch. He doesn’t say anything in response to you, and you shake your head slightly at the silence. “C’mon, baby boy. You can tell me.”

The way his eyes widen at the nickname has you thinking you’ve gone too far. But the quiet whine that leaves his throat lets you know that it’s okay, that he likes it. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t quite make out the words.

“What was that? You’ve gotta speak up,” you say, keeping your voice calm and gentle, wanting to gently coax him into saying what he wants to say.

“C-can I kiss you?” he repeats. His question is cute, and you can’t help cooing quietly when he says the words.

“Of course,” you reply, standing up and walking back around the coffee table towards Changbin. You slowly pick up the cushion and place it to the side, replacing it’s previous position with yourself. You straddle his lap, your clothed core resting right above his bulge. You want to grind down against him, but you don’t. He asked for a kiss and that’s what you’re going to give him.

You pause before leaning in, taking a moment to look at his face, his silently pleading eyes and his pouting lips. He looks absolutely beautiful. And just before he can let out an impatient whine, you connect your lips with his, your hands resting upon his cheeks while his find their place on your waist. Your lips are soft, softer than he thought they would be, and the press of them against his own makes him feel like he’s in heaven, dancing among the highest clouds. Immediately, he’s intoxicated, drunk on the feeling of your lips. If he could somehow live without the need for oxygen, he’d never pull away, he’d be content to kiss you for the rest of time.

And just when he thinks it can’t get any better, you tangle your fingers into his dark hair. Your grip is firm, but you do not tug, there’s no need to when he’s already loving what you’re giving. Besides, there’s something fun in the gentleness, in the sweet, slow movements of yours and his lips. There’s no rush to feel more, no rush to indulge in anything more than what’s happening in the moment.

And when you do finally pull back, it’s not for lack of desire. You’re stopped only by the burning in your lungs, you’re body’s necessity for air growing greater than your heart's yearning to keep kissing him. The only sound that can be heard in the otherwise silent room is yours and his breathing, until you speak.

“Should we go to the bedroom?” you ask, wanting to be sure that he wants this as much as you do. You keep your voice quiet, no more than a hushed whisper, worrying that speaking any louder will somehow tarnish the calm atmosphere of the room.

He knows he shouldn’t do this. It crosses so many boundaries between his personal and professional life. For starters, you’re his co-worker, add to that the major crush he has on you and it’s bound to be a disaster. Emotionally. He cares about you, admires you. Sleeping with you will only amplify his feelings. But he’d be damned if he didn’t want this so badly.

“Yeah, we should,” he replies, speaking just as quietly as you.

Slowly, you stand up, taking his hand in yours and leading him down the hallway. He admires you from behind as you walk, his heart racing in excitement. He can’t believe he got to kiss you, let alone getting the chance to do more with you. You walk into your bedroom, still hand-in-hand with the man behind you. You stop, turning to face him. It’s cute, the way his eyes are wide, looking at you as if he doesn’t want to miss anything. You take a step closer to him, connecting your lips with his in another gentle kiss before grabbing the hem of his shirt and slowly lifting it up. Once his shirt is off, you lean in, whispering in his ear.

“Do you wanna take off my clothes or do you wanna watch me do it?” A shudder runs through his body from your breath tickling his skin, and he still can’t believe this is happening. Both options sound like a dream come true, but he knows which one he prefers.

“Watch, please.”

“Then get on the bed, pretty boy.”

Your words send another shiver down his spine, but maybe that’s just the nickname. He loves it, the way you talk so sweetly, the way you treat him so gently. He wishes he could live in this moment forever. He does as you say, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, sitting with a perfect view of you. And watching you strip becomes his favourite movie, something he could watch over and over and never grow tired of. The way your fingers dance over the buttons of your pajama shirt, slowly undoing them has him wishing he had a photographic memory. Wanting to engrave this image of you in his mind forever.

Your shirt falls to the floor, and your satin shorts do the same, revealing a pair of simple underwear underneath. If you were expecting company like this, then you probably would’ve worn a nicer pair, maybe one of your lacy ones. But Changbin couldn’t care less what kind of underwear you’re wearing; you look stunning nonetheless. You slowly crawl up the bed, until your face hovers over his. He pouts his lips, silently asking for another kiss, and as much as you want to give it to him, you want to hear him ask first.

“Use your words,” you say, but there’s nothing demanding about the way your speak, giving the instruction calmly and quietly.

“Can I please have another kiss?”

You nod once, kissing him again. This time the kiss is deeper, but still just as soft. Slowly, delicately, you place your hands against Changbin’s chest, running them downwards. And as your fingertips trace down Changbin’s torso, he’s sure that they’re made of electricity, for wherever they touch his skin tingles in a frenzy of static. It’s his new favourite thing, the way your touch ignites him in ways that nothing else ever has, or ever will be able to.

Your fingers reach the waistband of his sweatpants, and you toy with the drawstring. You want to draw this out, want to build up to the moment you finally touch him. Your lips never stop moving against his as you gradually, almost leisurely pull his sweatpants down. He raises his hips to help you, even aiding in gently kicking them off his ankles. His underwear remains on, just as yours still is, for now. Your lips move from his to his neck, placing soft pecks just under his jaw.

“Can I mark you?” you ask, breath fanning across his skin, and he’s in love with the feeling. He adores that you ask, that you take into consideration what he wants. He knows that that’s common courtesy, that everyone is expected to ask. But that doesn’t stop his heart from warming at the sound of your words.

He nods, mumbling a quiet “please” before you do just that, softly sucking on his skin. There’s no quickness to the way your lips move, no hurry in the way the marks form along the column of his throat and along his collarbones. The blemishes aren’t dark, they don’t need to be. It’s all about the pleasure of their creation, not necessarily what they represent. Ownership. You’re not trying to own him, to claim him as yours. You’re wanting to make him feel good, to make him feel as if he’s floating among the clouds. And it’s already working, you can tell from the happy sighs escaping his lips with every gentle suck of your own. You begin travelling lower and lower with each touch of your lips, no longer marking him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper against his skin, and his face warms at the praise. Your lips don’t stop until they reach the waistband of his underwear, being blocked from kissing any more of him. Your slide your fingers under the edge of the clothing, looking up at him to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods slowly, almost pleadingly, and you smile at him. Just as slowly as you removed his sweatpants, you do the same with his underwear, watching the way his cock finally springs free from the confines of his clothes.

You lower your head again, and he watches the way you press kisses along his v-line. Normally he wouldn’t have the patience for this, he’d be begging you to touch him. But it’s you. And he could wait for hours and hours if he had to for you to finally touch him.

“You’re being such a good boy for me, so patient,” you mumble just loud enough for Changbin to hear you. Your eyes connect with his, and you smile at the way his eyes light up at the praise. “I think that earns you a treat.”

Another kiss, this time to the tip of his dick, and the way he sucks in a breath of air at the feeling is now one of your favourite sounds. But you know that his moans will sound even better. And you’re right, your ears finally being blessed with the sound of one of his moans when you finally take him into your mouth. You don’t take him all the way, just focusing your efforts on the head, but he doesn’t care how much of him you take. He’s just grateful that you’re even doing this, and if he wasn’t pinching himself right now, then he’d be sure that he’s dreaming. It feels too good, too heavenly to be real. But it is real.

You bob your head, movements slow, sensual, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, running along his slit. It’s divine, the taste of his precum hitting your tastebuds. It’s not normally a flavour you seek out, but right now you can think of nothing better. You look up, wide eyes looking into Changbin’s as you continue, movements never speeding up. You watch the way his hands clutch at the bedspread, trying to find something he can grip to keep himself grounded. He wants to get lost in the pleasure, but not too lost that he misses anything you’re doing.

You bring one of your hands up, linking your fingers together with his. His grip on your hand is tight, secure, and you know that this is the moment to do it. You take him all the way in, somehow managing to not gag in the process. His back arches, another moan escaping him. It’s still quiet, but he doesn’t have to be loud. You bob your head a few more times before pulling away, not wanting to get him too close to the edge just yet. You want to make him cum, but not in your mouth. You want to fuck him first. It’s not until you’re wiping the runaway spit from your chin that you finally register the throbbing between your own legs. But you’re distracted from that again when Changbin asks for yet another kiss. And who are you to say no?

You kiss him, sliding your tongue into his mouth to dance with his own. He groans at the taste of himself, absolutely loving it. You stand up, ridding yourself of your underwear before straddling Changbin again. You take him into your hand, not wanting him to go too long without pleasure. You line him up with your entrance, your dripping essence too much to ignore any longer.

The stretch stings as you slowly slide down onto his cock, and you know you should’ve done more to prep yourself. But you can’t bring yourself to care, especially with the way Changbin sighs so happily at finally being inside your walls. Tight, warm, it’s pure heaven as he fills you to the brim. You remain still for a moment, giving yourself time to adjust to his size. And not once does he complain. Not once does he ask you to move, too busy just letting himself feel you. Letting himself feel the way you clench around him, the way you completely envelop him.

“You’re so big, Binnie.”

Another nickname. Another nickname that makes him feel good. And the praise. He absolutely loves it.

You slowly lift your hips and drop back down just as slowly. Fast bounces are fun, they feel good, but nothing beats the sensuality of slow movements, of sweet, gentle sex. You set a slow pace, one that lets you both feel everything. You grab Changbin’s wrists, bringing his hands up and placing them on your breasts. He’s quick to swipe his thumbs over your nipples, rubbing over the perked nubs as your hips keep moving, bouncing and grinding unhurriedly. His head drops back, the pleasure he’s feeling making him unable to keep his eyes open. He tells himself that if something happened right now and he died, then he would die a happy man.

It feels so good, and he can already feel himself gradually approaching his release, and you can tell from the slight shaking of his thighs and the way his breathing picks up. You bring one of your hands to your clit, wanting to get yourself closer to that edge of ultimate pleasure. You rub languid circles against the bud, making you clench tighter around Changbin’s cock. His moans increase, not in volume but in frequency and pitch, and the sound is music to your ears. A song you could listen to forever.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” Changbin says, his voice breathy. You lean down closer to him, whispering into his ear.

“You can cum in me.” You clench as you say the words, and that tips him over the edge, causing him to spill inside your walls. You bounce once, twice more before you cum as well, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You continue to grind against him, riding out your highs until the both of you come back down.

The room is filled with heavy breathing, and it’s several minutes before you climb off of Changbin. Your legs are jelly when you stand up, tired from riding him, but you don’t mind. You could deal with wobbly legs every day if it meant you got to make him feel good. You get dressed again, telling Changbin you’re going to go get you both a glass of water before doing just that. By the time you come back with the glasses, he’s redressed as well, sitting on the bed. He takes the one you hold out for him, gulping down the water.

“You’re welcome to stay the night, if you want,” you say before an awkward silence can fill the room. “It’s getting kinda late and that way I can help you with the case in the morning, seeing as that’s the whole reason you showed up.”

If sleeping with you was Changbin’s first mistake of the night, agreeing to stay was his second. Not that he regrets either choice, but he’s not sure exactly what it is that makes him say yes to staying overnight. Maybe it’s the way he feels about you, or maybe it’s just that he really does need advice on the case and it’s easier to stay than come back the next day. At least, the latter is what he keeps telling himself is the reason.

You offer him your bed, and you hope he accepts, but instead, he opts to sleep on the couch, not wanting to intrude on your already generous hospitality. And so, that’s what he does. He sleeps on the couch. You give him your cuddliest blanket to keep him warm, and one of your nicer pillows, wanting him at least to be as comfortable as possible. He finds the gesture sweet, and he smiles warmly at you before bidding you a good night. You sleep alone, but you’re comforted by the knowledge that he doesn’t regret what happened. At least, not enough to leave.

When Changbin awakes in the morning, it’s to the smell of pancakes wafting from the kitchen. He smiles at the aroma before eventually opening his eyes. He spots the files on the coffee table and is immediately reminded of what transpired the previous night. He can hear you humming a tune while you cook, and it only serves to further broaden his already wide smile.

He sits up, quickly stretching his tired body before standing. He walks towards the kitchen, leaning against a wall to quietly watch you as you gently dance around as you cook. There’s something he loves about seeing you like this, seeing you in your natural being, not being confined by the expectations of a professional work environment. Just watching you, he can tell that he really likes you, even more than he did before. He wouldn’t say it’s love, he doesn’t know you quite well enough for that yet, but maybe someday he can work up the courage to confess his feelings to you. Not today, but definitely someday. You spin around, jumping slightly when greeted with the sight of Changbin, his hair still dishevelled from sleep.

“Good morning,” you greet, a bright smile lighting up your face. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.”

“Good, because you’re pancakes are…” you pause, grabbing one more pancake from the pan before sliding it onto one of the two plates, both already containing a stack each, “done. I don’t know what toppings you like, so I just grabbed out all the ones that I have, and figured I’d let you decorate your pancakes until your heart’s content.”

You hand him the plate as you finish speaking, gesturing to the other bench upon which sits numerous different toppings. There’s a small bag of mixed berries, chocolate, caramel and maple syrup, whipped cream, and even a tub of vanilla ice cream. He weighs up his options before coming to a decision, placing two extra-large scoops of ice cream on his pancakes along with a generous drizzle of chocolate syrup. He looks around for some cutlery, hoping to find some without having to go searching too far. But he’s out of luck, unable to see any anywhere on the kitchen bench.

“Knives and forks?” he asks, waiting for you to tell him which draw they’re in without having to go searching on his own.

“On the table,” you reply, pointing to the dining table where there's two places that have been set.

“Ah, which seat’s yours?” he asks, walking towards the table, plate of pancakes in hand.

“Either one, I’m not too fussed.”

With a nod of his head, Changbin chooses a seat and sits down, waiting patiently for you to put toppings on your own pancakes and also take a seat. Only when you start to eat does Changbin do the same. You both have idle chit-chat over breakfast, the small conversation flowing easily. The pancakes are delicious, and he’s sure to tell you that multiple times.

Once you both finish, Changbin offers to do the dishes as his thank you for making breakfast. You tell him he doesn’t have to, that you can just get to them later on in the day, but he insists, telling you it’s the least he can do after your kindness to him. Truth be told, you don’t like doing dishes, so it doesn’t take too much for him to persuade you into letting him do them for you.

You stay sitting at the table while he scrubs the dishes, watching his arm muscles as he does so. You can’t help but think to yourself that he truly is beautiful, a sculpture carved by the best of the best. He’s magnificent. You shake yourself from your wandering thoughts, reminding yourself that there’s a reason he stayed the night.

“You still wanting help with that case?”

“Yes, please. It’s due so soon and I’m sure I won’t meet the deadline without some help. So, if you’re willing to help then I will absolutely accept it.”

“Of course, once you’ve finished with those dishes then we can pick up where we left off last night,” you say, smiling softly. You can tell his mind goes straight back to the events that happened the night before because of the way his ears go red. It’s adorable, how just the thought of what happened has him flustered. He clears his throat, nodding quickly at your words and continuing to clean the dishes.

Once they’re done and dried, you both walk back over to the coffee table, each taking a seat on the couch. You gather some of the scattered files, sorting them out tidily. Changbin watches you move, happy to finally be getting some much-needed advice from his favourite co-worker.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

2 A.M.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

PROMPTS: 48. I called you at 2am because I need you. 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand 

Requested by @wonderlandmind4​

So, I’m not going to include #1, because I already did that prompt in another story. 

The Avengers are at the Tower for plot reasons. And just because I wanted it that way. Deal with it LOL. 

Bucky rubbed his eyes awake as FRIDAY announced that he was receiving an incoming phone call. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and it read 2AM.

“Accept,” he muttered huskily to the AI.

“Wait, FRIDAY, no, no, no!” The call immediately came in.

“Hello?” Bucky asked with confusion.

He expected it to be Steve, who was on a mission with the entire team. It left Bucky as the sole “superhero” left in the tower. But he didn’t see himself as such. Bucky was crashing at the high-rise because he really had no place else to go. And he knew Steve would be disappointed if Bucky didn’t take him up on the offer.

“Bucky, hi.” A female voice said.

He squinted and then put it together. “Y/N, is that you?”

Y/N was Happy’s niece. Tony and Pepper were basically her aunt and uncle without being related. She lived in the city, and therefore was around the tower a lot. Pepper was constantly inviting her over for dinner. Sometimes she’d do her laundry there. If Tony ever had a party, she was invited. The rest of the team had befriended her. 

But Bucky...Bucky kept his distance – just like he kept his distance from basically everyone.

However, that didn’t mean he didn’t take notice of Y/N.

It was ridiculous how long it took him to realize that his eyes seemed to always be searching for her when she was around. He watched her at parties, always dressed in a fancy dress with her makeup a little heavier than usual. He would steal glances at her when she was in the gym. Apparently she didn’t want to pay for one herself, but there wasn’t a gym nicer than the one at the tower.

But just because Bucky noticed Y/N didn’t mean he talked to her. 

Bucky thought the world hated him. Once all of Hydra and SHIELD’s secrets were leaked, everyone knew exactly what he had done.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t someone people wanted to be friends with.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to call you. No, I told FRIDAY not to call you,” she was talking really quickly – obviously, stressed – and yet quietly, like she was scared someone might hear her.

Bucky sat up straighter, fully awake and now on alert. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, not really. I’m sure it’s fine. I’m probably being crazy,” her words were coming out faster and faster.

“Y/N, take a breath,” Bucky demanded.

She must’ve done as she was told because there was 5 seconds of silence.

“What’s going on?” He asked then.

“It might just be the storm…” Bucky looked outside his window at the lightning and heavy downpour. “But I swore I heard someone trying to get into my apartment. There’ve been two robberies in my building the last 2 months.”

Bucky already knew about that. He overheard Y/N telling Pepper, Tony, and Happy about it in the kitchen. She seemed pretty shaken up about it. One of her neighbors had to go to the hospital because the robbers timed it wrong and ended attacking the poor man in a panic.

Tony and Happy weren’t happy about Y/N living in what appeared to be an unsafe building. They both tried to convince her to move into the tower. When she refused, pointing out how ridiculous the idea was, Tony told her he’d just buy her a place that had a doorman and high-level security. Y/N refused that too.

It was the first time Bucky had ever agreed with anything Tony said.

“Can you hear anything now?” Bucky asked, taking Y/N’s concerns and fear very seriously.

“No. It’s hard to hear anything with the rain and thunder outside,” Y/N whispered.

Then she sighed.

“Listen, Bucky, I’m really sorry for waking you up. Pepper and Happy are in Germany for a Stark meeting. I was just trying to reach Tony…”

“Everyone’s out on an assignment right now,” Bucky explained. “I’m the only one here.”

“Oh…” Y/N said lamely.

Bucky could tell she did really feel bad, and was growing more and more embarrassed. “And you don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m just being a total spaz right now and–“ She stopped abruptly.

“Y/N?”

“I definitely just heard something,” she whispered as quietly as possible.

“Y/N, I need you to give me your address,” Bucky instructed calmly.

There was no answer.

“Y/N,” his tone more gentle this time, “you gotta give me your address.”

He was already moving around his room, grabbing necessary clothing. He moved with purpose, not even thinking about what he needed to grab.

Bucky listened as Y/N rattled off her address and apartment number.

He was grateful that her apartment was only a 10 minute drive from the tower.

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me,” Bucky sounded like he did was he was on comms during a mission. Not that he’d done that recently.

“O-Okay,” Y/N stuttered in a whisper.

For a second, Bucky thought maybe he should talk to her, try to keep her calm, or make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. He’d be there soon.

But it was obvious that she was staying quiet so she could listen to any possible intruder.

Just when Bucky was two blocks away from her place, the line went dead.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

He slammed his breaks just outsider her building, not bothering to turn off the car or try to park it.

Bucky would’ve shoved his way through the front door of the building with his metal arm and shoulder, but the lock had already been broken.

Now Bucky was more concerned.

He was quick and stealth as he went up the stairs to Y/N’s floor. He pulled out the gun from the back of his waistband.

With one floor left to go, Bucky suddenly heard footsteps running on the floor above him – Y/N’s floor. The footsteps were running toward the opposite side of the building that Bucky was on. Which meant they probably knew someone was on their way up and they were escaping through the emergency stairs on the other side.

For a moment, Bucky considered running after them. He knew he could catch them. They didn’t stand a chance.

But Y/N was now at the forefront of his mind.

He quickly made it to her apartment.

The door was closed, but he could tell from the scratches on the lock and handle that someone had been trying to break their way in discreetly.

Bucky took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Y/N? It’s Bucky. Can you let me in?”

There was no answer. He waited a few minutes and listened for any movements from inside the apartment.

Nothing. 

“Doll… I’m coming in, alright?”

With a quick twist of his metal hand on the doorknob, he was able to crush it to pieces. It should’ve been harder to do, but the building was clearly as old as Bucky and not kept up to code.

Bucky promptly put his gun back in his waistband, not wanting to alarm Y/N with just the mere sight of a firearm.

“Y/N?” He called out to the empty apartment. “It’s just me.”

But he knew where she would be. It was the most common place for people to hide in case of an emergency.

Bucky made his steps quiet, but noticeable, so Y/N knew exactly where he was in the apartment.

He made his way to her bedroom and stopped in front of her closet.

He knew that she knew he was there. He could hear her soft breathing that was still anxious and terrified.

Ever so carefully, he opened her closet door.

Inside Y/N was tucked in the corner, knees to her chest, with a kitchen knife in one hand and her dead cellphone in the other.

Bucky looked at her with only sympathy. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt as scared as Y/N looked. Fear had been beaten out of him long ago.

He kneeled down, his forearms balancing on his knees.

“Mind if I come in?” He asked casually.

She shrugged.

Somehow the giant super soldier managed to fit into the closet, making it feel even smaller than it already did.

“For the record… you aren’t crazy. There was definitely someone trying to get into your apartment.” Then he took in a deep breath, realizing he probably wasn’t making her feel any safer. “But they’re long gone.”

When he glanced down at Y/N, she just nodded in acknowledgment.

Bucky wished he was better with words. He used to be. Words used to be his specialty. But he’d isolated himself from everyone. Before that, he was a brainwashed assassin without a mind of its own. Bucky was out of practice.

Bucky slowed reached over to the hand closest to him, the one holding the knife. Gently, he took it out of her grasp and placed it far enough away from them that it wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.

Then he took her hand in his, gripping in tight enough to show her comfort. His thumb brushed back and forth over the back of her hand.

She squeezed in return, silently thanking him.

The closet was quiet, only filled with Y/N’s shaky breathing.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Bucky finally breathed.

The words surprised him. He had no idea where they’d come from.

But they seemed to finally calm Y/N down.

“Why don’t you pack a few things, so you can stay at the tower for a few days?”

He half expected her to be stubborn and say she was fine, that he’d have to put up a fight to get her to go back home with him.

But Y/N just nodded numbly.

He nodded back and got up first so he could help her back onto her feet.

When he started to leave her bedroom to give her some privacy, she jumped forward.

“W-Where are you going?”

Bucky quickly turned around. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to be in the living room. I’m calling the police. Between your door and building’s front door, there’s enough evidence to prove that someone was trying to rob the building again.”

Y/N blinked at the him saying “again,” proving that he knew this had happened in her building recently.

She didn’t think Bucky ever paid her any attention. She was never offended by it. But he had just proved that he knew paid closer attention to her than she could’ve ever realized. 

20 minutes later, there was a knock at Y/N’s front door.

Bucky quickly answered to find two cops standing outside.

He answered all their questions, hoping he did a good enough job that they wouldn’t really need to talk to Y/N all that much.

“You live here?” One of them finally asked, realizing that his name wasn’t on the lease.

“No,” Bucky answered.

“It’s your girlfriend’s place?” They followed up.

“Uhhh…no. No, Y/N’s just a friend.” He felt awkward as he answered, but the cops didn’t seemed fazed by it.

Y/N finally came out of her room with a duffle bag.

The cops started asking her questions. Bucky stood guard, making sure they didn’t push her too hard or ask things the wrong way.

After seeing how shook up she was, he felt like he’d instantly turned into her personal body guard.

“Your landlord already called a locksmith to fix your door. He should be here in a few minutes. But you should take any valuables with you just to be safe.”

Y/N nodded.

When the cops turned to talk amongst each other and with the landlord, Y/N turned to Bucky.

“Can we go now?” She asked him meekly.

It was the first time she’d talked directly to him since he got there.

“Yeah, doll, we can go.” He ushered her out and, on instinct alone, put himself between her and the cops as they walked out.

Y/N was quiet on the drive back to the Tower.

Bucky had already texted Happy and Tony about what had happened. He assumed the whole team would know soon enough.

When they were in the lobby of the residential floor, Bucky shifted his weight awkwardly. He didn’t want to leave her yet.

This was the first time they’d ever been alone together and Bucky didn’t think he could go back to keeping his distance again.

“Uhh…Do you want me to show you where the guest suites are?” He asked as he scratched the back of his neck. But he knew that she knew.

She gave him a small, forced smirk. “No, I know where they are.”

He nodded.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to just stay up and watch a movie or something? I don’t–I don’t think I can go to sleep any time soon?”

“Of course. I mean, yeah.” Bucky responded immediately.

“Let me just change into some sweats I packed. I’ll meet you in the TV room?”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined him on the couch.

She asked him what he wanted to watch.

“Umm…I don’t-there aren’t a lot of movies that I’ve seen,” Bucky finally told her when she kept trying to figure out what he’d like. “Haven’t really tried to catch up on the whole pop culture thing like Steve has.”

“Oh…” Y/N muttered, realizing the mistake she made.

“Put on whatever you want. Really. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Y/N clicked a few buttons and a quirky song started playing along with someone writing in a notebook.

“Almost Famous,” Y/N explained. “It’s one of my favorites. Always puts me in a good mood, no matter how terrible I feel. And this way, you’ll be able to get a crash course on the best bands ever.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that.

The opening credits weren’t even over before Bucky felt Y/N looking over at him.

He turned to her.

“Thank you for…saving me tonight,” she told him slowly.

Her words were sincere, her eyes even more so.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

“Figured you’d say that.” Then she seemed to be trying to work up the courage to say something else. “I’m…umm…I’m glad it was you.”

Bucky blinked at her small confession.

“Me too,” he finally agreed.

And then they both turned their attention back to the movie.

Halfway through, Bucky felt a weight fall onto his shoulder.

Y/N had fallen asleep, her body choosing Bucky as its pillow.

A soft and shy grin grew on his lips from the feeling and the sight of it.

Very carefully, he maneuvered her body so he could lift his arm around her and make it less uncomfortable for her.

She didn’t wake from the movement, only sighed and shifted a bit.

It wasn’t long after that Bucky fell asleep too.

——————————————

“Sam, I told you to leave ‘em alone,” Steve called out in a hushed tone.

“Not until I document this…”

Then Bucky felt the flash of a camera. His eyes snapped open to find Sam looking guilty with his phone pointed at Bucky and Y/N, who was still fast asleep.

“You have two seconds to get that phone out of my face,” Bucky warned in a growl.

He would’ve jumped up and snatched it himself, but he didn’t want to risk waking Y/N.

Sam winced and instantly fled.

Bucky glanced over at Steve, who gave him an apologetic look.

“Tony told us what happened. She OK?” He whispered.

Bucky shrugged. “She’s a little shaken, but I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well…at least you finally talked to her. Though I wish it didn’t have to be a break-in for it to happen.”

Bucky played the ignorant card. “What do you mean?”

Steve narrowed his eyes as if to say, ‘Don’t even try.’ “Bucky, give me some credit. I’m your best friend. No matter how discrete you are, I know when you have a crush.”

Bucky blushed and the looked down at Y/N.

What neither of the super soldiers knew was that Y/N heard Steve’s confession too. And she wasn’t about to let Bucky go back to ignoring her.

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

This request was put in ages ago. I’m trying to clean out my inbox. I have so many requests that are collecting dust. 

THIS DOES NOT MEAN MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN. THEY ARE NOT. 

Please don’t request things. And please don’t immediately request a second part to this. There is no second part. 

[whump-only]

intro -- golden (vamp whump)

Ok so I have a vampire whump addiction now..... (thanks @deluxewhump + @ashintheairlikesnow). NEW WIP NEW OCs eeeeee

tw: broken bones, reference to gore (removal of teeth), captivity, restraint, it/its as pronouns, physical abuse/manhandling, non-sexual nudity, manipulative/abusive relationship, referenced death / murder

----

“Come on. Just let me just show it to you.” Hyde phrased it as though it was a request, but he stood blocking the front door. Daring Pollen to refuse him.

“No. Find someone else. I’m leaving,” Pollen said, but they both knew that wouldn’t happen. Pollen really, really regretted agreeing to housesit, For a whole month? On Hyde’s turf? Idiot! But he didn’t think Hyde would spring this on him. 

Hyde stepped forward and took Pollen by the elbow. “I’ll protect you…” he said cheekily, pulling Pollen towards the basement door. 

“Fuck you.” Pollen planted his feet firmly. To think Pollen would agree to living with a vampire… 

“Fuck! I said just look at it. How is that hard?” Hyde snapped with that ferociousness he was capable of. It’s why he was a top tier vampire hunter, but it startled Pollen when it came out like that. 

But just like that, the flash of anger was smoothed away, and Hyde was soft, coaxing. “Listen… if you actually look at it and still think it’s dangerous, then I’ll kill it before I go? Okay?”

Pollen was baffled. Did Hyde really think this was reasonable? Knowing what vampires did to his life, to his family? “…You’re serious?”

Hyde grinned before leading the way. That smile of assured victory that everyone swooned over. That Pollen used to want to kiss. Pollen clenched his teeth. 

Hyde opened the door to the pitch black basement and already everything in Pollen wanted to say, Close the door, get the fuck out! Leave it down there! That’s what any sensible human would do. 

Hyde flicked on a pale yellow light and padded down the steps. Pollen stopped at the threshold of the door, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. Run. Run! Those last words of his mother echoed in his head, the memory of that night wrapping itself around his neck, like a snake. Run! 

Hyde looked up at him, raised his eyebrows mockingly. Scared?

Pollen reasoned that if the thing somehow got loose it could kill Hyde first and give Pollen time to run away. Or something. And so, he forced himself to step down, one creaky, labored step after another. The smell of rotting, horrible something hit him so hard it triggered a coughing fit. “Ugh, god. You never crack a window down here?” Pollen called. 

Hyde was already out of sight, somewhere down there. “No windows.”

Pollen’s eyes watered and he could barely see anything in the yellow glow of the overhead light. Hyde was near the far wall, and Pollen urgently scanned the bare room for the monster. With a shock he realized it must be the figure at Hyde’s feet, curled under a blanket. 

With the clink of chains, the thing suddenly shifted and let out a whimper and Pollen’s heart leapt into his throat. 

Hyde kneeled down next to it and Pollen braced himself for it to leap up and rip open Hyde’s face.

But instead Hyde lifted it clean off the floor and held it up. Its blanket fell away and it was naked, so thin that it looked like its every bone was visible through its grey skin, making it all the more inhuman. It looked like an eerily accurate mannequin, utterly plastic and lifeless, yet still detailed in its rendering. The chain that dropped down from its neck looked heavier than its body. The thing remained limp in Hyde’s arms, its head drooped down to its chest, its bound wrists hung loosely. Its mop of black hair covered the top half of its face and the bottom was obscured with a muzzle. Its legs dangled a full foot off the ground. There was no way it was full grown, Pollen realized. 

It did not paint an intimidating picture. But Pollen still flinched when it growled suddenly. 

Hyde didn’t seem to register the sound at all, even though he was holding it against his body. He switched to holding it up with one arm. “Look at its eyes.” With the other hand he moved its matted hair out of the way and pulled up one of its eyelids. The iris was a deep, almost golden, yellow. “Such a pretty color.” 

The vampire’s eye seemed to fix on Pollen, its pupil growing small in an instant. Pollen turned away, finding himself overwhelmed. Those eyes. Just like—

“Want to touch it?” Hyde said, almost reverently. 

“No,” Pollen said firmly. “Just stop.”

“Suit yourself.” Hyde dropped the vampire so suddenly that Pollen jerked in surprise as it hit the floor and cried out.  

Hyde stepped over the cowering creature and with a gleam in his eyes. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

Pollen stepped back, momentarily forgetting the vampire, but nonetheless terrified. Hyde was alive now, glowing with excitement. At any moment his energy could be redirected by a swift turn of anger into a quick bone cracking punch or the instant unsheathing of his knife. In this basement, Hyde could get away with anything, Pollen thought. 

But Hyde was in good spirits, seemingly assured that his presentation had been thoroughly convincing. So he was now onto logistics, “The freezer upstairs is filled with cow blood. Give the vamp a block every day or so. That’ll keep it alive but it won’t get strong enough to give you trouble. You can always lower the portion if it’s getting too energetic.”

Pollen’s head was still spinning from the slow realization of what he’d gotten backed into doing. “And what, take off its muzzle? What if it bites me?”

Hyde grinned with chaotic glee. “I took out its fangs! And the rest of the front ones too.”

Pollen unconsciously raised his hand to cover his mouth. 

Hyde continued. “Still gotta be wary of the things growing back of course. You can use the pitchfork to pin it down, but trust me, it doesn’t move around much anyway. It’s pretty easy.”

Pollen tried to relax his clenched mouth. “Right. Cow blood. Got it.”

Hyde tapped his chin. “Other than that, I just dump a bucket of water or two every few days, to wash down the piss an everything to the drain there.”

Literally mopping shit. Unbelievable that Hyde would take him for granted like this, Pollen sulked. “I hate you. You’re a bad friend.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Hyde said tenderly. He reached for Pollen’s hand and teasingly wrapped his index finger around Pollen’s pinkie. With the other hand he gave Pollen’s butt a little squeeze. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Ridiculous. Did Hyde think he was so good that sex would make up for this?, Pollen wondered. Pollen wasn’t that desperate. 

And now Pollen was insulted. “Hey. I never say I’d do it. Chained up or not, toothless or whatever, I’m not going to be able to sleep knowing there’s a vampire under me. That’s a risk you’re willing to live with. But not me. What if it gets away and comes upstairs to kill me?”

Hyde sighed. “You really think that thing is any threat to you? Be serious.” 

“Yes!” Pollen insisted. 

Hyde’s eyes narrowed and he smirked coldly. “So sad. But I get it. Can’t be too careful with vamps. They killed your folks right?”

Pollen already knew Hyde wasn’t just giving up. But Pollen didn’t know how to stop him. How to not walk into the trap. So Pollen yielded, “Yes. And my siblings. I had two sisters.”

“That’s too bad...” Hyde turned to the vampire that had somehow managed to silently twist most of itself back under the blanket. “Hey, Goldie. Mr. Pollen doesn’t trust you…”

Hyde walked purposefully toward a metal baseball bat that Pollen hadn’t noticed before. Pollen didn’t think he imagined the dark staining on it. 

Hyde glanced over, trying to catch Pollen’s gaze. “…What can we do about that?”

Pollen felt very cold in his stomach, remembering Hyde’s promise to kill it if Pollen thought it was dangerous. “Hey, come on Hyde. Hyde! Don’t do that,” Pollen said, but he wasn’t sure. The vampire couldn’t be released back to the outside to terrorize people, they both knew that. 

The vampire too, must’ve sensed the lurch toward danger, because it broke out of its stupor. As Hyde loomed over it, it struggled and whined, tried to scrabble against the concrete, pull itself away. But Hyde firmly stepped down on a part of it, pinning it.

“Stop! No!” Pollen shouted, but Hyde raised the tool above his head—

Pollen turned away and covered his ears to block the piercing cry of the creature. With every new breath it screamed into its muzzle and seemed to choke on its own voice before screaming again.  Pollen panted in horror, unable to look up. 

“One broken leg,” Hyde reported, loudly, over the thing’s cries. “Or if we’re really being more exact, it’s probably shattered from the knee down. Still think vampy can get away?”

Pollen shook his head. “Hyde. I can’t…”

“What do you think, Goldie? Can you still crawl up the stairs and kill Mr. Pollen?” Hyde addressed it with a tone that approached tenderness. But he still held that bat, weighing it in his hand. Pollen realized Hyde never intended to kill it. 

Pollen wished he could jump up and snatch away the bat. But his body wouldn’t move. “Hyde. Hyde, please stop. Just stop.”

Hyde looked right at Pollen with dark eyes as he raised the bat again. “Sorry, Goldie. One leg to go.” 

Pollen finally unfroze and raced up the stairs two at a time, tripped once, bashing his chin into a stair, but it didn’t slow him down until he was back in the kitchen. He felt dizzy so he sank to the floor and clapped his hands over his ears as the creature wailed. 

The stairs creaked as Hyde climbed them. He softly closed the basement door, muting the sounds of pain. 

The ringing finally subsided in Pollen’s head. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Pollen demanded. 

“You know I’m the last person on earth who’d underestimate a vampire. I wouldn’t leave you in a situation where you could get hurt,” Hyde said sweetly. 

You knew it’d make me guilty, Pollen thought. To get back at me for resisting you, right? But Pollen said nothing, and took the hand Hyde offered. 

Hyde pulled Pollen to his feet. “I know it’s scary. Especially for you. But you can do this.”

Pollen rested his head on Hyde’s shoulder, pretending that this Hyde, the soft one, couldn’t switch back if he was hugging Pollen. The broken moans of the thing could still be heard through the door. This whole exercise seemed so cruel now, so unnecessary. Pollen mumbled into Hyde’s shirt. “Why can’t you just kill it?”

Hyde wrapped his arms around Pollen. “This is a rare opportunity. I’ll take it around to fairs and things, earn a little cash showing people something they’ve never seen before. It’ll be something to do between my hunting trips. Maybe I can even travel less, if the money’s good… I’m not getting younger, you know?”

The creature’s pitiful sobs echoed in Pollen’s skull. Pollen gripped Hyde’s shirt tighter. “Mhm.” 

Hyde approvingly pecked a kiss onto Pollen’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Pollen cursed the fluttery feeling it gave him. He broke out of the hug. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Hyde began to shuttle around the house, scanning for things he might’ve forgotten to pack. The vampire had gone quiet. 

Finally Hyde stood at the door, ready to leave. 

Pollen joined him to see him off. “Have a nice trip. Kills lots of vampires for me.”

“That I will.” Hyde gave a salut and marched off. 

Pollen closed the door and slumped down to the floor. “Fuck!”

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Two: “Lucky for me, your kind of heaven’s been to hell & back”

Summary: You still hate Bucky. But you need him to keep you from going to jail... So, what’s the harm in inviting him over to dinner?

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Angst?? (i think). Probably typos( which will be fixed). Implied violence. 

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

--

Part one [In case you missed it]

----

It's Saturday.

Your day off. Well, what used to be your day off until it was turned into a family therapy session.

Well... Not an actual therapy session. It is literally just dinner with your family, including your sister's husband - a man you refuse to identify as your brother in law for reasons that will end in you being called the j-word. The husband, because he's the only son-in-law your parents have, has been dubbed the "referee" of the Saturday Sessions.

Each session, since you've been discharged, has made committing murder seem more and more appealing.

So appealing, that you're standing in front of your neighbour's door with a basket of muffins and a please-keep-me-from-committing-felonies smile.

Bucky, because he just spent the afternoon searching for a new bar, is standing on the other side of the door. Both confused and frightened to see you at his door voluntarily.

"Is there a bomb in that basket?" He asks, eyes roaming over you suspiciously. "Believe me, it's not gonna work."

You blink at him, then at the basket. Then back at him. "Why would I put a bomb in a muffin basket and then hold it?"

He raises a sceptical eyebrow at you.

You huff. "Fine, they're poisoned. I accidentally added laxatives while making them-"

"Accidentally?"

"Yes, accidentally-" you glare at him. "-they're not for you. They're from us."

He blinks at you, confused. You haven't spoken to him, actually spoken to him, for a few months. You avoid him like he has a disease and when your paths do cross, you just glare at him like he threw your cat into on coming traffic.

It's been a few days since the coffee machine incident. He has a brand new one - better than the last one - sitting on his kitchen counter, waiting for him to develop the courage to give it to you. It should be easy. He has mastered the art of making amends.

But... He can't, for some reason, bring it to you.

"Wait-" he frowns, your words finally registering in his head, "-did you just say from us?"

You set the basket down. "So, remember when you broke my one shot at happiness?"

"Oh god." He forgot how dramatic you are, as well.

"Yeah, you can fix that little error by being a doll and-" you pause, then frown, struggling to find the right words.

"Muffin poisoned your tongue?"

"I'm trying to ask you to be my plus one for tonight's dinner-" you grit your teeth, your blood beginning to boil. "-at my parents house."

You didn't look him in the eye when you said that. And by the sounds of it, he doubts this is something he should be going to. Or something you should be going to. Not if it brings out this side of you.

"Who are the muffins for?"

They were for your sister. You broke her nose last week, which was never your intention, and the guilt has been eating you up alive since. The punch was meant for her asshole husband.

"You coming or not?"

"Let me grab a wine and the keys."

"We have muffins. No need to waste your good wine on mediocre tastes."

"I'm bringing the wine."

"If you make us stop to pick out flowers, I will watch porn with the volume on full blast every night for a week."

"Why are you always so violent?"

--

"So, how bad is it?" Bucky asks.

You've been in the car for a half an hour, because you chose the busiest route and the most congested during rush hour, and that's the first thing either of you have uttered since you politely dragged him out of his apartment.

You shrug. "Three roads lead to this one, so we'll be here another half hour."

"I mean the situation-" he drums his fingers against the wheel. "-you literally chose to be in a car with me, for the longest time possible. Either you want to get there late or you don't want to get there at all."

"Maybe I just like spending time with you."

Bucky scoffs, but doesn't question you further.

The car is silent, aside from the traffic outside, and you could almost relax. For just a moment, you could close your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else.

But you can't. Because you're not. You're on your way to a dinner that shouldn't be happening and is only happening because you're part of your neighbour's redemption list.

Because he just had to have a conscious.

"I punched my sister last week," you mumble.

Bucky wants to laugh. He wants to laugh so badly. He has met your sister, a handful of times - at the hospital, outside your room and outside your apartment door.

Every time she'd come over, she would knock hard enough to make him think she's part of SWAT team. And each time, he would could hear you scramble to switch off all devices that could alert her of your presence inside.

One time, you'd both arrived a few minutes after each other. His door was closer and already open, so you shoved your grocery in his hand and dived into his apartment to hide from your sister. He had to pretend he hasn't seen you since you left for work , and that the packet of sanitary pads that fell out were for his girlfriend.

He didn't have one.

He wants to laugh, because he doesn't like her at all. But he doesn't, because she's your sister. "What did she do?"

"She married an asshole-" you scoff. "-and decided to get in the way and I tried to punch said asshole."

At this, he grins. "And you need me there because?"

"I need you to keep me from trying to kill him," you begrudgingly admit. "I'm too high maintenance for prison."

"How bad is this guy that you need me to help you not kill him?"

"Bad enough that I'm gonna need you to park a few blocks away from the house," you turn to look at him, his confused eyes meeting yours for a quick second. "I told them we're taking the bus."

"Wow."

"Which means we only get to spend less than two hours there, if you drive a little slow-" you pause when he drives passed a McDonald's. "-hey, can we stop and get milkshake?"

He deadpans. "We have dinner plans with your parents."

"I get that you and them might have gotten along since you decided to be a hero," you glare at him. "But they're not as cool as the hospital visits made them seem."

Your parents have invited him over to dinner a handful of times, and each time he had to decline. You and him weren't on the best of terms, and he didn't want to make things worse by showing up for dinner without your knowledge.

He knows, first hand, that a few interactions aren't enough to give the full depth of a person. But he saw how devastated they were, how heartbroken they were, at the sight of tubes and needles sticking out of you.

He doesn't believe, he can't believe, for a second that they're as bad as you say they are.

But he won't argue with you. Not about this. "We'll get milkshake after."

"Hey, remember that coffee machine you br-"

"Oh, fuck you!"

***

You're not a fan of wine. At least, not the wine Bucky brought to the dinner.

An hour into the dinner and you've already had enough glasses to have Bucky worried. The wine is halfway to empty by the time dessert rolls in, and when your sister's husband clears his throat, you abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

The second hour into the dinner is where things got interested. Interesting enough for Bucky to take the bottle from you before you could throw it at someone's head. Mainly because he wanted to throw it at someone's head. Your sister's husband's head to be specific.

Just as your mother gets up to start making tea for the muffins you brought, Bucky is the first on his feet and the first to use the 'we have to get going before we miss the bus' excuse.

You grin at him, vision slightly hazy from the wine you drank on an empty stomach.

"Mhmm," you hum as you cling into him to get to your feet, "the bus. We gotta- the bus. Bah-yeee."

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," he promises to your parents and they believe him.

Hell, you believe him. If there's one thing you can trust your neighbour to do, it's to save your life. But not your coffee machine.

He guides back to the car, which is parked exactly where you told him to, and he's never been happier to have listened to you. You sing all the way back, some ridiculous song about when you're fat and old, and you're the most content he's ever seen you.

Drunk off wine, eyes glassy and smile wide, as you try to mimic his steps. You sigh when you get into your seat, even though you fight him on opening your own door, and fumble lazily with your seat belt until he helps you clip it in.

Your struggle to find a comfortable position, but forget all about that when he parks the car outside your favourite coffee shop. You're out before he can even unclip his seatbelt and you're inside before he makes it to the door.

"Hi," you whisper-yell as you lean against the counter. "Pssst. Hi. Hello."

The barista blinks at you. Bucky cuts in before he can get a word out. "We'll take coffee. Filter. And anything that's bread-"

"-don't listen to him, he breaks hearts for a living. Sometimes he rips them out." I jab your pointer finger against the countertop. "I will take the strongest coffee you've got. I'm in the mood for bad decisions and-"

"We'll be at the booth, in the back." Bucky gently pries you from the counter. "One coffee and two bottles of water-"

You try to smack his hands away. "Why must you be so- Barnes, I swear to god, I will take your parking space."

He shoves you into the booth, then takes a seat opposite you. You attempt to make a break for the counter, but the glare he fixes you with is enough to keep you in your place.

It should scare you. The look he gives you. You know what he is capable of, without mad scientists to control him, you know the damage he's done. It takes a special kind of strength to face people like the flag smashers, and a special kind of crazy to go after them.

Bucky is both. And yet, his glare doesn't scare you. So much so, that you return it.

"I hate your brother-in-law-"

"Sister's husband," you cut in to correct him. "I refuse to recognise him as my anything."

He nods. "Right. So, let me get this straight-"

Bucky pauses as the barista sets down the coffee, the water, two croissants, some breadsticks and a garlic roll. When he's satisfied that there's nothing else, he leaves you alone with Bucky and the breads.

"You got work tomorrow-" he puts sugar into your coffee and stirs, before handing it to you. "-so you're gonna need to eat as much, so that it absorbs all that wine."

You glare at him but still do as he says. He's right and you'd rather sulk than admit it.

"So," he clears his throat to get your attention. "Your sister is an asshole, that married an asshole. And your parents are enablers of all that bullshit?"

You nod, practically shoving the garlic bread into your mouth. You didn't touch the food your mother cooked and, other than that milkshake Bucky bought you, you haven't had anything to eat all day.

"Instead of just sending you to therapy-" he scrunches his face in disgust at the thought. "-I can't fucking believe I'm advocating for that, but instead of paying for therapy. They do that? Host a dinner, sit a circle and kumbaya the problems away?"

Taking a sip from your coffee, you continue to nod. "Is it helping?"

He frowns, meeting your eyes. "What?"

"The mandated sessions-"you swallow. "-I heard you and Wings talking about it."

Thin walls. Shared balconies. Despite not being in each other's life, both of you know more than enough because of your apartments.

Your balcony and his are separated by a small barrier, but you can still hear his conversations - and visa versa- if you leave your glass door open enough when he's out there.

The wall that separates your apartment is thin enough for him to pick up on your habits. You don't think you're a creature of habit, but he would disagree.

He can tell, just from your foot steps, what you're going to watch or do in the living room. From the little sounds you make, he can tell which series you're binge watching for the umpteenth time and which one is on just for background noise.

If you weren't a creature of habit, he wouldn't have found you in time. You wouldn't be sitting in front of him, asking about his wellbeing, instead of dealing with yours.

"Wings is Captain now," he corrects, and you accept the deflection.

You would never overstep, or push. Not with him. Never with him.

"If Captain, why Wings?"

Narrowing his eyes, he pushes the bread sticks closer to you. "Fine, Captain Wings."

Again, you obey the silent instruction.

"Where were we-"

"We were plotting an asshole's abduction," you tell him, "and then dropping him off at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. If that's not available, then maybe near Dyer Island."

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why would we drop your sister’s husband on an Island?”

"It's a place, with a shitload of great white sharks."

"And you know this because?"

"I like to always be prepared."

"For what?" His brows furrow. "Do you just know random places to dump people that–"

You cut in. "–will lead to an inevitable death by natural causes? Yes."

He stares at you. Actually stares. Openly, at you. He can't remember the last time he did that, looked at you, for no other reason than to just look.

You didn't always hate him. When he first moved into your apartment building, and the landlord introduced you too, you were indifferent. He didn't think you knew who he was, most people don't at first glance, so he was relieved. Indifference was definitely better than everything else.

That was until you walked passed him and Sam in the lobby of the building, a week after he moved in.

"Sarge–" you nodded at him, as you checked your mail. Then nodded at Sam as you made your way out of the building. "–Wings."

You knew, you always knew who he was, and just didn't care. That was refreshing, to say the least.

The hate only came that night, or the following morning, he wasn't sure. All Bucky knows is, he meddled, and now you hate him for it. For saving you.

He's tried to talk to you about it. Countless of times, he's tried, and each time you hate him a little bit more. Or so it seems.

He wants to talk about it now. It's obvious in the way he's looking at you, like he can't believe you're here, in front of him. You can't either, but you won't ever admit that to him.

Hell would sooner freeze over before you actually admitted that maybe, just maybe, he should have meddled sooner.

You won't. So, instead, you put down the bread stick and sit back. "I know a really cool coffee place... If you still need a new place to hang."

It's an olive branch. You don't ever say what you really mean, he knows that, and he smiles at that little fact. That he knows that, he knows you.

"Is the barista as dramatic as I hear?"

"Only to strangers that break down her doors," you shrug. "Oh, and guys who break her coffee machine–"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

You grin. Because you're just as petty as he is.

---

Tags: @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ , @arctic-duchess​

[bleachluna]

Letters

Ended up skipping day 2 of @hitsukarinweek as I had no ideas for it but here’s my fic for day 3! Also on AO3

Dear Toshiro,

Can you please explain to me how the hell Soul Society managed to copy mobile phones from humans, and even put hollow tracking technology in them, but didn't make them able to send stuff across realms? I know you explained that SS phones in soul society can only contact those in soul society, and when they're here in the human world they can only contact those here, but I only realised how ridiculously stupid that is until after you left. What if there's an emergency and you need to contact someone across realms for whatever reason? Surely you need to get this fixed, I cannot believe if I want to talk to you I'm stuck writing letters like it's the 1800s. I'm even writing more formally than I expected, apparently letter writing brings it out of me and I absolutely hate it. You've gotta fix it. Not to mention I'm not a fan of leaving letters for Urahara to pass on for me, I'm not totally convinced he won't read them.

Anyway, it's been a couple of months since I saw you last. That's probably a good thing, that a captain hasn't been needed here, but I'll admit I wonder about you sometimes, I hope everything is ok on your end! I don't know what it was about turning sixteen but all of a sudden all of this stuff about trying to figure out careers is on me constantly. Yuzu figured out years ago that she wanted to go into healthcare, she took to it way back when we were kids. She was originally planning to go into nursing but her grades have improved a lot recently, she might be a doctor instead, but she's also thinking about midwifery. So there's stuff she's gotta figure out for sure, but at least she knows what area she wants to go into? I don't even have that. I mean how do you figure out what to do with the rest of your life when you're sixteen? I haven't even figured myself out yet. How did you decide to become a shinigami?

Other than that though things are ok. School is a little stressful because grades suddenly feel so much more important, but the work's manageable at least. Hollow level seems to be stable at the minute too which is great, one less thing to worry about! And Urahara improved his reiatsu blocking bracelet thing, I've had this one for almost four months and it hasn't broken so even less chance of getting eaten! Always a plus. But anyway, I hope things are good on your end as well, and that you aren't buried up to your ears in paperwork. Let me know if you ever have any plans to pop up in the human world!

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I sent this on the 22nd of June, let me know when this gets to you/when you send yours, I wanna know what sort of delivery time we're looking at here.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I don't even remotely have the skills or know-how to fix something like that, that's what the Research & Development Team is for. I agree it's a little daft that our mobile phones can't send things across realms, but I'm sure said team knows this and is likely working on it, as you said, it would be unfortunate in an emergency situation. Plus I know Urahara can be a little eccentric, but do you really think he'd read the letters? I'm sure it's fine.

It is a good thing I've not been needed, the last thing Karakura needs is more trouble and destruction. Have they managed to rebuild that major bridge you were talking about yet? Everything is alright here, or at least in my division anyway. I've been kept busy recently, a set of students graduated from the academy last month so I've had 18 new recruits to introduce to squad 10. As for the careers stuff, I honestly assumed from the work you did here and there for the clinic that you were interested in healthcare as well, I take it that's not actually the case then? Do you at least have rough ideas of the sort of thing you'd want to go into? I'm not sure I'll be much help in that respect, I can't wrap my head around half of the jobs that seem to exist in the human world. In some ways I had it easier, the choice was out of my hands. My reiatsu was getting stronger and Hyorinmaru came to me before I even knew what was happening, I needed to go to the academy to make sure my reiatsu didn't become dangerous, therefore I became a shinigami. I never had to wonder what to do with myself in terms of employment.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you, I'm certainly glad to hear you don't have to worry as much about the bracelet breaking. Is your reiatsu still increasing? If it's stabilising that might be part of why this new bracelet is managing better. I know you're not particularly interested in getting involved with shinigami stuff, which frankly I agree with, but if your reiatsu is still increasing I do think it's worth training you to hide it properly. I am unfortunately always at least a little buried in paperwork, particularly recently with the new recruits, but it's manageable. I don't think I'll be in the human world soon, but I will let you know if I plan to.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 2nd of July, I should be handing this letter over to be sent on the 4th, schedule permitting.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Well I hope you make sure that the research team are working on it, because this really is ridiculous. And you're kidding right? I trust Urahara about as far as I can throw him, which is probably all of three feet.

The bridge is still being rebuilt, but I think they're in the last stages now thank god. All the diversions needed really messed with the traffic, maybe I can finally stop leaving the house half an hour earlier just to get to my soccer club. It's supposed to be twenty minutes max by bus and it's been taking easily twice that. Let me know if you find out which shinigami it was that released their zanpakuto on that bridge, I have some choice words for them.

An entire class of students graduated and you only got 18 newbies at the tenth? Was it a small class or is that the normal kind of numbers you see? I assumed there's like, thousands and thousands of shinigami, is there less than I thought? Is that why I only ever see you and Rukia besides the dude who's currently stationed here? And I don't know about going into healthcare, that's my whole problem! I don't know what I want. Healthcare is fine but I don't feel like it's my life purpose to go into it either so yeah, I don't know. Healthcare would be alright, sports would be cool maybe? But I don't think there's a whole lot of sports careers outside of professional (which is definitely not happening) or teaching, and I'm not convinced I'm the teacher type. I just don't seem to have this strong urge to go in a particular direction like Yuzu does. But wow, I didn't know that, you basically HAD to train to be a shinigami? I didn't know that was a thing that could happen, that your reiatsu can go that far on its own. That kind of sucks though doesn't it? That you had no choice? I hope you enjoy being a shinigami at least.

To be honest I think my reiatsu probably is still going up. I don't think it's as quick as it was before, it's settled a little bit, probably because there hasn't been much danger around recently, but I do think it's still inching up. Is that a huge issue? Obviously it became a huge issue with you so now I'm kinda nervous. I'm not gonna get kidnapped into the shinigami am I? I can train to hide my reiatsu without actually becoming a shinigami right? Frankly I trust you more on this than Urahara. And you better let me know in advance if you can, Yuzu says she wants to make you those dumplings you liked again.

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I got excited at first thinking that sending these took less than two weeks, that didn't seem that bad considering we're sending them via Urahara whenever someone comes through realms, but then your letter took almost a month to come, it arrived on the 27th :( I'm handing this letter over on the 28th.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

The Research & Development Team is not under my command, they belong to the twelfth, I cannot make sure that they're working on it, but I shall ask at the next opportunity I get. I think you're selling yourself short, I'm sure you could get at least five feet, but I do see your point, I can't say I fully trust him either, not on an individual basis anyway. I trust him to want the best for everybody, and to work towards that, but I don't think he pays attention to what that means for the individuals in the situation. More of a 'the end justifies the means' sort of person from what I've heard. And I'm afraid I have no idea who it was who damaged the bridge, but given they were fighting a powerful hollow at the time I imagine it was the correct course of action. Better on the bridge than in the middle of town.

I get the impression there is less shinigami than you think. Most squads have just over two hundred or so members, so 18 new recruits is actually a pretty good year. As for why you only really see me or Vice-Captain Kuchiki, it's a combination of needing a strong enough shinigami to deal with the sort of problems that crop up in Karakura, while also needing said shinigami to have a vague clue on how to navigate the human world. Vice-Captain Kuchiki presumably has rather extensive knowledge having lived in the human world for months, and I've been known to visit for years so they know I'm alright with being there as well. I think it's alright to not have an idea of a 'life's purpose' when you're in your second year of high school. Maybe just pick something for now as a sort of in-between while you continue working out what it is you want? Sometimes a job is just a job after all. You could always try a career in sports and see how it goes if it interests you now, and switch later on? I'm sure you'll figure something out. I'll admit I was definitely reluctant to train as a shinigami at first, it was never something I wanted originally, so it was hard to deal with to begin with I suppose, but I don't mind it these days. It's stressful, but at least I'm doing something where I'm trying to keep people safe, that suits me well enough.

Unfortunately yes, in my case my reiatsu continuously going up was an issue, but I don't think it's as serious with you. Firstly, you've not got a zanpakuto knocking on your subconscious as far as I know (the telltale giveaway is weird dreams where someone/something is trying to talk to you and tell you it's name, in case you were worried about that), and the people around you aren't vulnerable. You're unlikely to cause issues with your reiatsu because everyone around you has some degree of spiritual power already. As for the other questions, I certainly hope you won't be kidnapped into the shinigami, and I don't think your brother or even Urahara would let that happen, but it's possible you'll get Soul Society's attention if it keeps going unchecked. Of course with Urahara keeping on eye on it and keeping the reiatsu blocking bracelet on you, I'd argue that it's largely taken care of and shouldn't get other shinigami on you. There isn't much shinigami training you can do without becoming a shinigami, but you can learn to withdraw and hide your reiatsu even as a human so don't worry about that. I would say to ask your brother but he's never been very good at controlling his, Urahara is your other option, or possibly Vice-Captain Kuchiki if she's around. Or if those don't work out and your reiatsu gets to a point where you're truly worried about it let me know, I'll train you in it myself if it comes to it. Also, I appreciate the thought but your sister doesn't need to go to trouble like that for me.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 17th of August. I think it's safe to say they take anywhere from over a week to just under a month to arrive each time.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Let me know what the research team says! If they say they're not working on it please heavily suggest that they do, and if they say they are working on it, please ask how long they think it'll take them. Just think how much easier communicating would be if we could just call each other. The end justifies the means is EXACTLY Urahara's vibe, which is exactly why I don't really trust him. So yeah, it wouldn't even remotely surprise me if he's been reading these the entire time, better to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. I suppose you have a point about the bridge being a better location than in the middle of a bunch of people, I'll put up with inconvenient travel times over unnecessary death.

Only a little over two hundred per squad? There is less than I thought! That's way less than your average university over here, that's crazy! 18 newbies is good in that case, your squad must be pretty popular. And no wonder I only really ever see you or Rukia, you guys clearly need to work on getting more people up to the speed with the human world or you're gonna end up over-worked! I guess I could just go for sports now and switch later? I don't know, you kinda get it into your head that you've gotta figure out what you want and stick to it, but I guess there's nothing actually stopping me from changing paths later. Once school goes back in I'm gonna get a meeting and talk to the careers lady, see what she says. I'm glad you're alright with being a shinigami now, hopefully it isn't stressful too much of the time.

Well, I'll take your word for it, you know more than me on this but I'm still kinda wary. You're right that there's no zanpakto trying to get my attention so far at least so that's something. If I do get kidnapped by the shinigami I'm trusting you to break me back out, but yeah that is kind of the whole point of the bracelet, that it blocks off my reiatsu from others so hollows can't find me so easily (and shinigami apparently, yeesh) so hopefully this won't actually be an issue. I don't really want to ask Urahara to train me but I will if I have to I guess. Asking Rukia's a good idea though! I'll ask whenever she next pops up, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing, maybe that'll solve this whole situation. Or you know, you, if you happen to come sooner, whoever comes to the human world next I guess! I'd feel better knowing that I myself could do the thing the bracelet's doing. Although I do have a question, how do you do it in your sleep? Or is it not possible and you're just vulnerable a third of the time? That seems unfortunate. Also you're kidding right? Cooking is the primary way my sister shows her care and affection, if she wants to cook for you there's no stopping her so you can at least give us notice so we can get ingredients and stuff.

Best Wishes,

Karin

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I will let you know what the research team says as soon as it actually comes up. I can see your point, I suppose it is better to plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Good to see you have your priorities in order, is the bridge finally finished though?

I remember being surprised by the size of your high school, I assume universities are even bigger? Must be an administrative nightmare to keep track of all those students, I feel like I can have a hard enough time with the 226 members I have. Squad 10 was surprisingly popular this year, the only other squads who had numbers like that were the sixth and the eleventh, both of which always have high numbers. We did have 'human world' classes at the academy at one point, but they ended up being scrapped a decade or so ago, any information learned was rendered almost completely obsolete within a few years, meaning the stuff the students learned was more or less useless by the time they were actually getting stationed in the human world. These days we just give a brief information pack about the human world before they leave, currently being updated semi-regularly by Vice-Captain Kuchiki. Meeting with a staff member whose job it is to deal with career pathways certainly sounds like a good idea, I hope it goes well if it hasn't already taken place.

Once again, I certainly hope Soul Society would try such a thing, it would be incredibly stupid considering I don't think your brother, who damn near took on the whole of Soul Society and pretty much came out on top, would ever let you get kidnapped in the first place. And I'm fairly sure me, a captain, breaking out someone Soul Society captured is probably considered treason of some kind, but I can promise I'll be in your corner one way or another. Not to mention, I don't think most shinigami would be prepared for you anyway, most are too used to sword combat, I don't think the average shinigami would handle your hand to hand very well. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. As for hiding your reiatsu in your sleep, generally speaking you just practice it enough that it becomes second nature, most shinigami do it subconsciously after a while, including in sleep, although nightmares and the like can interfere a little bit. Your sister has met me what, three times? She feels strongly enough to cook for me? It really is unnecessary although I'm sure the thought is kind. I did say I'd give you notice if I came to the human world though, our sensors are showing an increase in hollow activity in Karakura recently. We're currently just monitoring, we're holding off for now as it might be temporary, but if it gets worse I'm coming to monitor the situation properly and to make sure no incidents happen with the hollow increase. Judging from the current rate, if it keeps going as is I'll probably be there in two weeks or so. With any luck this letter will arrive before I do but if not, I'll make sure to meet up with you somewhere.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Your letter got here super quick, less than a week after I sent mine! Looks like there's increased shinigami activity to match the hollow activity, which boy, you're not kidding that its increased. My reiatsu's jumped up again and I couldn't tell you if it was a response to all the hollows around, or that the hollows arrived because of me. I really hope it's the former. Hopefully you'll be here soon! I think I could do with the training sooner rather than later and if I'm being honest I'd feel safer. But anyway, in response to your letter:

The bridge is actually finished! Just in time for the increased hollows to fuck it up again I'm sure! Most universities are like 10,000 to 30,000 easy, and I think some are bigger than that? So yeah, only two hundred or so shinigami per squad is insane to me. I'm pretty sure the universities have whole administrative teams just for the purpose, does your squad have an admin person at all or is it just you? When I first found out about the shinigami I didn't think I'd sit here wondering about the bureaucracy of it all but here I am. Oh wow I would've loved to sit in one of those human world classes, would've been hilarious I bet. At least you give newly stationed people something, I imagine the culture shock must be a bit much, I'm sure Rukia's information is very accurate given how much time she's spent here. And the careers meeting is actually in two days, I kinda nervous about it to be honest, but hopefully it'll be helpful.

Well I suppose when you put it that way Soul Society kidnapping me would very much be poking the bear huh? I'm extremely saddened to hear that you wouldn't commit treason for me though, what kind of friendship is this??? But I suppose I'll take comfort in you being 'in my corner one way or another', whatever that means. Does it mean in the event of soul society kidnapping me and forcing me to be a shinigami you'd immediately put me in your squad? That's the vibe I'm getting. But that's good to know about the hand to hand combat and the reiatsu withdrawing while still asleep, I'll bear those both in mind. As for your potential visit, given hollows seem to be popping up left right and centre I'm assuming you're probably coming in a week or so, I'll look out for your arrival! I get the impression this letter isn't going to get to you before you arrive in the human world but just in case it does I'll let you know, Yuzu added the dumpling ingredients onto her shopping list. That means you've gotta be at our house for at least one dinner! Consider it repayment for the training I'm gonna demand from you.

Hope you get here safe,

Karin

[sweetescapeartist]

DBS COLORING BOOK CHAPTER 73 REVIEW

Alright... let's do this.

The first 4 pages are good. Good flow, not too many pages, no dialogue (thank God). Page 5 is where the paneling gets unnecessary. The last 2 panels aren't needed.

Page 6 is absolutely stupid. Goku & Granolah are flying at extremely high speeds, Goku is firing ki blasts that are moving at a higher velocity than he is currently moving, Granolah moves even faster in order to dodge Goku's ki blasts, then Granolah is using his scarf that is wrapped around a tree to swing around the tree & get behind Goku... A SCARF.

The scarf would tear apart instantly if Granolah tried to use it to catapult/swing himself around faster than Goku can perceive.

YOU: "The scarf is probably really strong tho!"

Sure let's assume that. In that case, the tree would be uprooted from the velocity Granolah is moving. Either way, it doesn't make sense. If this was early Dragon Ball and Yamcha did something like this when fighting Goku, then yeah it would be reasonable and look cool. With the power these characters are at now, it just looks ridiculous and inconvenient. It doesn't work here. Granolah could've easily dodged on his own and much faster that wraping his scarf around the tree.

So Granolah swings around and kicks Goku through tons of trees. (Saiyans killed his ppl but Granolah is killing his planet. Ironic)

Hey look! Another stupid page 😒

Page 7. Goku got sent flying back at a speed capable of easily cutting through tons of trees, but he slows himself down by grabbing a branch & swinging around it? Why? Again, at that speed, Goku would yank the limb of the tree clean off or uproot the entire tree. That wouldn't slow down his speed. He would be better off just stopping in the air on his own as if he applied the emergency breaks. Characters have done that plenty of times. Again, stuff like swinging around trees and tree branches is stuff they would had done in OG Dragon Ball.

Why is Goku blocking like that?? He isn't reinforcing his arm, he's holding his wrist whole his forearm gets punched. That would damage his arm and/or wrist.

*Boom boom! Bam bam!* They hit each other some. But are you ready for this? Pages 11-12...!

Why did Goku yell as if he is transforming? He is using Ultra Instinct, right? You don't yell to power that up. Remember the Moro arc? He calmly breathes to go into the state. Remember the chapter before? He calmly closes his eyes to focus. Why is he yelling then tapping into UI? Because Toyotaro can't write consistently. This page was...! just dumb...

Also... What is this SSB with Ultra Instinct then? You remember the SSB aura around UI Omen in the Moro arc? What's the difference between "Blue plus Ultra Instinct" & "Ultra Instinct plus Blue?"

Granolah says he can read Goku's blood flow and cell movements. That should come in handy later when he could potentially find a weakeness in Goku using UI. Hopefully Goku doesn't tell him he can't stay in the form too long. 🤞

SSB with UI is more focused that lower forms in combination with UI. Goku should be nearly untouchable. Pages 13 - 14 show how well Goku can dodge. Looks like ballet in a way, like Goku us dancing around him. I like that. Then he uses a point blank Kamehameha. Looks cool. But it turns out that Granolah simultaneously hit Goku somehow. Not a complaint here.

Pointless panels of Oil being blown back by the force. Pointless panels of Vegeta not paying attention to the fight and looking around. Pointless 2 panels of smoke clearing away. The entire page doesn't add anything at all. Page 17 could be omitted & it would flow better.

Goku is on the ground for the... 3rd time in this battle? I wish it would at least have Granolah say he didn't realize how difficult UI with SSB would be for him, but he barely saw an opening. That would be some sort of respect for Goku and did some clever foreshadowing. But we get Granolah insulting Goku instead. Whatever.

This "vital points" nonsense is so stupid. Everyone in DB has nearly identical vital points. Majin Vegeta knocked Trunks out by chopping at his vital point. These characters know what vital points are and know them well as we have seen when they were in combat since early DB. Granolah should be saying "My right eye will always find an opening." But maybe its a translation error or something. I won't be too harsh about this one.

Wait wait wait. Lemme get this straight...

Whis trained Goku, then Goku is able to use UI in the ToP.

Merus trains Goku to use UI Omen at will.

Goku later masters UI with silver hair.

Whis points out new flaws that didn't exist then trains Goku even further.

Goku has been trained by 2 Angels to the point of being able to go into Mastered UI at will and recieved further training after mastering the Angelic power. How is it that Goku has the gull to say "No, Ultra Instinct should have no weaknesses. If anything's lacking, it's gotta be my training."

And he's telling Granolah that he is vulnerable for some reason...? He's just foreshadowing for the reader that he will lose. The last 4 or 5 panels of page 19 isn't needed.

Whatever. Let's move on. So on page 20, for some reason, Goku has a confused look & a question mark in his speech bubble after Granolah blames Saiyans for killing his ppl. Maybe Goku doesn't understamd why Granolah is repeating himself for the 3rd or 4th time? Or he wasn't listening the earlier times. Can't blame him. Granolah's speeches bored me too.

Granolah copies Moro & makes lava rise from the core of his beloved home planet in order ro hurt Goku. Poor Sugarians. I wonder if there will be a "You're becoming the bad guy now, Granolah." type of story. Dont really care though. Goku escapes by teleporting. He mentions how Granolah has Moro's move. I guess Granolah is supposed to be like Cell and have others techniques... like Moro before him... They are both altered copies of Cell who is much cooler than both of them combined...

Well, here they are making Vegeta look capable (somehow?). Also its interesting that the bloodthirsty Granolah is allowing Goku & Vegeta to chat about their discovery of who his ppl are. The the ex-detective Vegeta quickly figures out that Maki & Oil fooled them. That was rushed. "But Vegeta was suspicious of them before." Yes, but there was no reason or anything we heard that would make Vegeta suspicious. The writing is bad. Also it's convenient that Oil has a drone all of the sudden to eavesdrop. The last 4 panels of page 24 are pointless.

GOKU: "Hey let's talk to him and clear things up."

VEGETA: "Nah. He's probably too stubborn. Just fight to move the story along instead."

Goku says he hasn't used his full power yet & Vegeta is surprised. How does Vegeta not realize Goku hasn't used his full power, Mastred UI? Then Vegeta says "Tch... Gotta resort to that in the end, huh?" Toyotaro is having Vegeta downplay UI in order to hype up Vegeta's fight next chapter. Bad writing. There's better ways to hype Vegeta up. Toyo chose one of the worst ways to do so.

Granolah... Just standing and waiting for Goku to come back. What a patient revenge fueled man.

UI Goku through the fog looked cool. (And his wounds heal? Ok...) But, seeing that made me realize something else. It would be much cooler if it went from page 22 then skip to page 26!

We don't need Goku & Vegeta chatting. The reveal of UI would not have had a pace breaker. It just happens & you see that Goku is serious now. Show don't tell.

GRANOLAH: "I can't perceive... any vital points?!"

That sounds stupid, so I do think it is a translation error.

GRANOLAH: "I can't perceive... any openings?!"

Now that reads much better! (I also edited the dialogue to "openings" in the pic above.)

Great... Goku conveniently exposed a weakness in UI that Whis had conveniently made up in CH 71. Although, in CH 59 Whis said that Mastered UI doesnt have the stamina issue that UI Omen has. Then in CH 64 it shows that the stamina issue is gone with Mastered UI during the 3 chapter battle with Moro. Goku never looked fatigued or weak in this form. Only time the form went away is when "planet" Moro drained Goku of his energy.

But now Goku & Whis say otherwise. How suddenly contradictory. Page 26 of this current chapter (CH 73) would be better if the last 2 panels were omitted.

Mastsred UI Goku easily takes down Moro- I mean Granolah. Also Goku tries to chat now after attacking Granolah. Should've said something before you start kicking ppl in the face. But this is shown to prove Vegeta is right about not being able to reason with Granolah. Even if it makes no sense.

Cool dodging & aikido type movement from Goku.

Goku using "the force" & stopping Granolah's movements was cool. Reminded me of Goku doing something similar to Broly in the DBS movie. Or more similarly, like Zamasu did in the manga.

I guess Toyotaro is suggesting that the quick flurry of punches is a Master UI kind of move. (Although it originated in the anime when UI Omen Goku was punching back against Jiren & when he did so to block attacks from Jiren in EP 129.) I hope this move isn't over used that it ends up losing its flare.

Vegeta pretends to be upset that Goku defeated Granolah while in the previous chapter, Vegeta told Goku to fight first.

Somehow Vegeta is able to sense that there are 2 Granolahs. You can say because he has spirit control, but Goku has been through that kind of training with Roshi, Kami, & King Kai (possibly some with the Yardrats too which helped him control Super Saiyan at the level he could). And with Instant Transmission, Goku must be an expert in detecting ki. He can feel ki in different realms and locate ppl from far across the galaxy Goku should sense this too. All this writing is doing is trying to make Vegeta appear as the more capable fighter & get Vegeta fans hype for his next battle. That's all.

The switcheroo (I think I used that wrong) of a fake Granolah was a kinda clever idea. But Goku not knowing what "split" means is asinine.

Goku literally says "Split...? What's that mean?"

Goku has seen firsthand when Tien split into multiple Tiens, Goku knows the Yardrats can split themselves into many ppl, he saw merged Zamasu split himself, & he saw Moro split himself. Why is he written so stupid? I need answers Toyo.

Page 40....

HOW IN THE HECK did Mastered UI get caught off guard?! Ain't it supposed to automatically grow sturdier as necessary?! Boy oh boy, this writing... A positive is that the punch looks like the 1 inch punch Goku did to Golden Freeza (inspired by the legendary Bruce Lee).

So if actual Granolah is twice as strong and can one shots UI Goku... Vegeta doesn't stand a chance. But the bad writing will make a way for Vegeta to look somewhat capable.

Granolah says UI becomes less sharp over time. Only problem is that Goku fought longer against Moro. This fight of UI Goku should have been longer. If the fight was longer when in the UI "transformation" then I would be more generous about Granolah finding an opening. Speaking of openings, Granolah says "opening" instead of "vital point." Must be a translation error.

Goku is in a near death-like state and Vegeta is like

VEGETA: "Leave that fool alone. Fight me instead."

Vegeta threatening Granolah is either stupid or smart. Smart = Vegeta provoking Granolah to get an advantage mentally. Dumb = Vegeta reverting to his Cell saga overconfidence that Toyo always does.

IN CONCLUSION:

STILL NO IMAGE OF FREEZA... I guess he isnt that important to the story after all. And this storytelling is so bad because Toyo can't stay consistent at all, he doesn't understand the characters, & he can't come up with anything besides "this form also drains stamina." You can say he & Toriyama write this together but I doubt it. Toriyama corrects his art & just gives the story a pass.

Recently it seems that Toriyama is more interested in the DBS movies being produced. Toriyama just writes an outline, Toyotaro & Toei write their versions of the story around that, Toriyama corrects Toyotaro's art & Toriyama also corrects or adds to what Toei thinks up. Example being when Toei created Kale & Toriyama created Caulifla in response.

I'm not excited for the next chapter. I don't care what Vegeta does. How is Vegeta going to win against someone who one shotted Goku in UI. Either the writing will be kinda smart or just plain stupid. I'm expecting stupid.

Idk if I'll review the next chapters. The bad writing was too much for me. I wrote this review last month right 1 day after the chapter came out, but I didnt want to read the manga again to get the images I need for this review. So I put it off for almost 1 month.

I wanna take a break from this bad manga...

[king-finnigan]

5 times Geralt failed to ask Jaskier out and 1 time he somehow managed

I.

Yen calls him immediately after he’s sent her the text. “What’s going on? You said it was an emergency?” She sounds slightly worried, and Geralt realizes that ‘Need help. Emergency.’ does sound like something to be worried about.

“I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh, and he could swear he hears a ‘fucking finally’ muttered away from the receiver. “Cool, sure. So what do you need my help for?”

“Asking him out.”

She laughs softly. “Seriously? You’re a grown-ass man, surely you can ask someone out, right? You’ve done it before.”

He keeps quiet, and blesses all his lucky stars that she isn’t here to see shame rise red to his cheeks.

“Wait-“ He hears her let out a startled laugh. “You’ve never asked someone out before?”

His silence is confirmation enough.

“How the fuck did you manage to go your entire life without asking someone out?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Whatever. Alright, so, here’s what you gotta do-“

---

He’s waiting outside the doors of the cinema, bouncing on his heels a bit. Jaskier’s always a bit late – fashionably late, as Jaskier himself calls it – which is fine under any other circumstances, but the movie won’t wait for them, so it sets Geralt’s nerves on fire.

Finally, Jaskier shows up. With Triss and Sabrina in tow. To what was supposed to be a date.

“Hi!” Jaskier greets him brightly. “Hope it’s alright that I brought Triss and Sabrina. A movie is just much more fun when there are more people, you know? Hope you don’t mind?”

Geralt smiles tightly, and shakes his head. Later, after the movie, he rereads the text he sent Jaskier a few days earlier, and realizes he maybe didn’t really make it clear that he intended it as a date. Great. Something to remember for next time. Though he’s not gonna ask Jaskier on a movie date again. Firstly because Jaskier apparently likes it better when it’s not just the two of them, and also because they stumbled into their seats ten minutes late, and he doesn’t think he’s gonna survive that kind of embarrassment again.

 II.

Okay, so clearly Yennefer’s plan didn’t work out. Maybe he should ask someone else.

It takes a while before Eskel picks up, but Geralt immediately relaxes when he hears his brother’s voice. “Yeah?”

“I wanna ask Jaskier out. I need your advice.”

Eskel breathes out something that sounds suspiciously like ‘finally’. It’s quiet for a while, as Geralt gives his brother time to think.

“Flowers,” Eskel eventually says. “Jaskier likes flowers, right? He seems like a flower kinda guy. So give him flowers.”

“Okay, thanks,” he says.

“By the way, can I borrow your drill? I’m making a shed and mine broke.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye.” Eskel hangs up, and Geralt drops his phone on his bed, thoughts mulling over how best to handle this.

---

He shuffles from one foot to another as he waits for Jaskier to open the door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bouquet of different types of orange flowers. It had caught his eye at the florist, because of its obnoxious colours, and he figured Jaskier would love it.

Finally, the door opens. And immediately slams shut again, Jaskier’s high-pitched shriek muffled from behind the wood. “Fucking shit!”

Geralt frowns, and knocks on the door. “Jaskier? Are you alright?”

A muffled sneeze, followed by: “No! I’m allergic to flowers.” Another three sneezes, in quick succession. “Very.”

Great. Just his fucking luck. “Uh… r-right,” he stammers. “I’ll- I’ll throw them away, then.”

He apologizes for it later, and Jaskier tells him not to worry about it, though he’s hardly able to string the sentence together through several sneezes and wet sniffles, eyes red and swollen.

 III.

Okay, so no movie date, and definitely no flowers. Maybe he should call someone else. He considers calling Lambert for a second, but he knows that would probably be the worst idea of his life – Lambert would either laugh in his face and hang up, or he would suggest something ridiculous like a bungee-jumping proposal or some shit like that.

Instead, he calls his dad. He’s always been able to rely on Vesemir for advice, so he supposes this time won’t be any different.

“What’s wrong?” his dad asks as soon as he picks up the phone.

Geralt frowns. “Nothing. I’m calling for advice.”

It’s quiet for a while. Then: “Alright, but disposing of a body is a lot harder than you think it is. Just take that into consideration before you go through with it. So first you gotta-”

“What? No, I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

Silence. “Oh. Who?”

“Jaskier. You met him last Christmas. Brown hair, blue eyes.”

“That loud-mouth that kept following you at the party?”

“Yes.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and Geralt could swear he hears a muffled ‘thank the gods’, as if Vesemir is holding his hand over the receiver. “Try flowers.”

“Already tried that. Nearly killed him because he’s allergic.”

“Hmm. Take him to a nice restaurant.”

Geralt nods, and he realizes embarrassingly late that Vesemir can’t see him. “Alright. Thank you. But, what you said about disposing of a body, what-“ The line clicks. Vesemir’s hung up.

---

“Hey, there’s this new restaurant, a few blocks away. Di Mare, I think it’s called. Wanna go there, maybe next Saturday?”

Jaskier snorts at him, incredulous expression on his face. “That place? No thanks, way too fancy for me. What do you take me for, a rich person?”

“Jaskier, you’re literally royalty.”

“Nah,” Jaskier continues, ignoring him, “let’s just order take-out. Have a little movie night.”

Geralt nods, hope shining in his chest. “Yeah, sure.”

Jaskier grins at him, pulling his phone out. “Cool! I’ll text Yen and Triss, let them know. Been a while since we all hung out together.” Oh, fucking brilliant.

 IV.

“Triss? I need your help.”

“Sure, what can I do?”

“I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

“Oh, yeah, Yen told me about that. So I figure you still haven’t managed?”

“Clearly.” He doesn’t mention the fact that so far, she’s come between his plans twice. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, and she’s obviously not doing it on purpose.

It’s quiet for a while. “Uh… Flowers are a big no-no, he’s allergic to those.”

“Figured that out by now.”

“The hard way?”

“The hard way.”

“Yikes. Hmm. Restaurant?”

“No.”

“Fuck, then I’m fresh outta ideas, chief. Wait, no. There’s this new coffeeshop just around the corner. Jask loves coffee, no way you can go wrong with this one.” Geralt highly doubts it, but thanks her anyways and hangs up.

---

The barista makes heart-eyes at Jaskier the entire time they’re ordering, and when they go to sit down, Jaskier turns his cup and finds the guy’s phone number written on the side. He immediately pulls out his phone and sends the barista a text. Geralt tries and fails not to sulk.

 V.

“Hey.”

He blinks, then frowns at his five year-old neighbour who’s blocking the exit of the apartment building, looking up at him with a glint in her eyes that she always gets when she’s about to drop snowballs through people’s mailboxes.

“… Hi.”

“Heard you were trying to ask your boyfriend out,” Ciri says.

“He’s not my boyfriend. And how’d you know that?”

“Gran-gran says the walls are thin and you talk loud when you’re on the phone.”

“… Okay.”

It’s quiet for a while, her gaze intent on him the entire time, and he starts to feel uncomfortable, shuffling on his feet. Sure, the effect may be mollified by the fact that she’s missing her front teeth, but she’s still very unnerving.

“… Ciri, can I leave n-“

“You should ask him out.”

“That’s why I’m trying t-“

“Just ask.”

“Ciri-“

“Give him alcohol. Grown-ups like alcohol. Then ask.”

He sighs. “If I promise to do that, can you please let me pass so I can go to work?”

She holds up her hand, pinkie finger extended. “Pinkie promise.”

He hooks his little finger through hers. “Pinkie promise. Now can I please go?”

She nods solemnly, and steps to the side. He’s halfway down the stairs when she calls out to him: “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

He looks back, sees her staring at him, face blank and grave, and he turns back, getting out of there as fast as he can. What the fuck?

---

Geralt’s walking to Jaskier’s door, two cups of coffee in his hands. Sure, the giving-Jaskier-alcohol part of Ciri’s plan wasn’t the greatest, but he couldn’t deny that simply asking Jaskier on a date might be effective and solid, because it’s so simple.

Except, just his luck, as he walks to Jaskier’s door, Jaskier barges out of his apartment, and smashes into Geralt, coffee spilling over both of them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Jaskier exclaims, throwing his hands in the arms exasperatingly. He sighs, his foul mood evident on his face. “Guys and coffee seems to be a deadly combination for me, lately.”

“I guess it didn’t work out with the barista, then?” He somehow manages to keep his hope out of his voice.

Jaskier sighs and shakes his head, fishing a paper tissue out of his backpack to wipe at the front of his shirt. “Yeah, no. Total hipster, and he couldn’t stop talking about himself. Like, yada-yada-yada, you like old music, we get it, now can we please talk about me?” He sighs, seems to give up on saving his shirt. “Guess I’ll have to go back inside to get a new one,” he mutters. “Anyways, why are you here? Is there something going on?”

Geralt swallows, shakes his head. “No, just wanted to bring you some coffee. Sorry about uh…” he waves his hand a bit “that. Gotta go.”

He rushes out of there, ignoring Jaskier’s inquiring “Geralt?” behind him.

 + I

“So you’ve finally turned to me for council,” Lambert says in lieu of greeting when he answers the phone.

Geralt sighs.

“I want to hear you say it, Ger-Ger. I’ll help you but I need to hear you say it.”

“Don’t call me Ger-Ger.”

“Say it.”

He sighs again, a headache starting to form behind his eyes. “Fine. I need your help.”

He can practically hear Lambert’s self-satisfied smirk. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the idea…”

For some reason, Geralt doesn’t exactly feel lucky.

---

The first pebble he throws misses its target, and he cringes as it nearly hits Jaskier’s downstairs neighbor’s window. He tries again. This time it hits its mark, but there’s no sign of life from Jaskier’s apartment. He tries again. No response. And again. No response. He throws three pebbles against the window in quick succession.

Finally, a light turns on and Jaskier opens the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Geralt? It’s one in the morning, what-“

He looks down at his phone, frantically searching for the song that Lambert recommended- fucking Lambert. He never should’ve agreed to this, and he’s going to kill his brother once this is over. Finally, he finds the right song. It’s the same one as in that one movie Lambert told him about where this guy held a boombox over his head or some shit – ‘something Jaskier will have definitely watched’, his brother had reassured him. Finally, he finds the right song, and holds his phone over his head, volume as loud as possible, and-

“WANT A BREAK FROM THE ADS?-”

Geralt closes his eyes in horror as the ad continues playing, several lights turning on in the windows of the apartment building. Jaskier on the other hand, is- gone.

Geralt frowns, turns the ad off, and looks at Jaskier’s window, painfully empty. Suddenly, the door to the building opens, and Jaskier comes staggering out, wheezing and clutching his stomach as he makes his way towards Geralt.

“That-“ he says between giggles “that was the funniest and most adorable shit I’ve ever seen.” He hiccups, starts laughing uncontrollably again. “What…?”

“Lambert’s idea.”

Jaskier laughs again, desperately holding on to Geralt’s shoulder as to not keel over. “Of- of course it’s his idea, oh gods-“ He hiccups, finally calming down a bit. “Isn’t this from that one movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it a romantic movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you trying to ask me out, Geralt?”

“… Yeah.”

Jaskier smiles softly. “I accept. But please- next time, you can just ask. There’s no need to go through all this trouble.”

Geralt resists the urge to smack his palm against his face. “Alright, I’ll remember that for next time.”

Jaskier looks back, sees multiple lights on in the windows, sees some neighbors frowning down at them angrily. “Better wrap this up or they’re gonna call the cops on us.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against Geralt’s cheek. “Goodnight, Geralt.” He turns around and makes his way back to the apartment complex.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Occupational Hazard

Summary: By far, Ven’s got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 6 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player]

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,541

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Ven thought about having children exactly once before. It had been a really random thought too. What made him space out that day? Had he been preparing for a test, or was it just another slow day at the flower shop? He hated that he had daydreamed about it enough that he knew exactly what kind of kid he wanted. (A girl, by the way- with the rest depending on if he could convince his ideal lady of being with him.) Either way, seeing Ephemer’s 19 month old son brought about feelings of wanting to be a father one day, while also making him glad that he wasn’t.

Furthermore, he wasn’t used to Ephemer being dressed to the nines either. The teen couldn’t help but stare at his coworker as Ephemer handed off various baby supplies to Skuld. It was a weird juxtaposition seeing Ephemer in a well pressed suit, and passing a wrinkled and well worn duffle bag to Skuld.

“There should be more than enough diapers to cover any accidents he’ll have in the next few hours.” Ephemer told Skuld. “Anora insisted we keep him from eating the foods that make him super gassy, just in case. She’s a smart one, that Anora. There’s a reason why she’s my wife.”

“Don’t have to convince me.” Skuld snorted. “Don’t know why you’re so dressed up for a night to the movies. We all know you two are going to be making out in the back of the car by the end of the night.”

Ephemer’s face immediately went up in a deep scarlet. He let out a sheepish laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. Skuld just laughed at him.

“Luca will be safe with me,” she then told him. “We’ve got a supply truck coming around in another hour or so, Thursdays are usually kinda dead anyway, and Ven’ll be here manning the main front. The next four hours will go by quickly.”

“I knew he’d be safe.” Ephemer laughed, albeit somewhat forced. “It’s how often you’ll be actually looking after him. You’re the one babysitting, and you’re still at work.”

Skuld gave Ephemer a rather dry laugh of her own before telling him, “I can do both.”

At Ephemer’s skeptic raise of his eyebrow, Skuld went on to say, “I will. After the truck gets here, my attention will be on nothing else.”

“Right…” Ephemer mused. He gave a shake of his head before getting down to Luca’s height. His son had been politely standing next to him while the old friends talked. Luca seemed to have understanding of what was going on- Ven just couldn’t get over those large blue-grey eyes. They just… stared between Ephemer and Skuld with severe inquisition. It almost made Luca look a good three or so years older. So young and yet so serious looking…

(Oh no, now Ven wanted to ask Brain if there were any surviving photos of Sabrina as a baby. She would hate knowing that he saw them, but he had to know. Did she always look that serious at a young age too?)

Ephemer gave his son a bright smile- one that was almost returned.

“You be good for Auntie Skuld and Venny, alright Luca?”

The toddler looked at his father for a long time, the wheels turning in his younger mind to register what was said, before giving a little nod. Ephemer grinned as he ruffled his son’s hair. He grunted slightly as he got back up (which Skuld was quick to snicker at) before starting his way out the door.

“See you two in five hours.” Ephemer waved at them.

“You told me earlier it was going to be four.” Skuld refuted, putting a hand on her hip. Ephemer just shrugged.

“You know I have a hard time keeping my hands off my wife, Skuld. And without a kid around? We’re practically kids again ourselves.”

Skuld let out a small ‘tsk’ sound and smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Get outta here. Go conceive your next child away from the flower shop for once.”

Even with his face flushing again, Ephemer gave her a playful salute before closing the door behind him. Skuld just looked at the door for a moment or so just to shake her head at him.

“Come up, Luca.” she then told the toddler, bending down a bit and extending her arms to him. “We gotta look out for the delivery guy.”

Luca gave her a glare so mean, Ven had to cough to cover up his laugh. The toddler even went into a string of sounds that could have been interpreted as sass. But he went over to Skuld, regardless. He allowed himself to be picked up by the woman, and together they disappeared into the back room. With the boss out of earshot, Ven felt free to let out the snicker he had been holding in for the past three minutes. The last thing on his mind was how Skuld would inevitably take her work at the flower shop over watching Luca. He’d figure it out soon- he just wished that peace had lasted a bit longer.

. . .

A good hour or so later, and Ven decided to make himself useful by making sure everything had a price sticker on it. No ceramic pot could go unturned without a sticker declaring its probably high ball price. Better than just sitting at the register and drifting off into who knows where until Skuld caught him.

Ven happened to notice Luca out of the corner of his eye. The toddler casually walked (or as casually as you could at 19 months, since you didn’t quite have the best balance still) out of the backroom and into the main store front. Ven slowed his movements a bit to watch Luca look over the area, then go over to a certain large vase with some faux reeds in it. It was rather amusing watching Luca plonk his little bottom down in front of it.  Ven gave a quiet snort before properly returning to his work. He almost had to stop because something new happened.

Luca started babbling at the flowers.

At least, Ven thought it still counted as babbling. Every now and again he could pick out sounds that certainly sounded like real words; like ‘same’, and ‘daddy’, and ‘kiss-shun’, and ‘mommy.’ Or maybe Ven was imagining it. Putting price tags on everything was ridiculously boring.

“Ven!” Skuld suddenly shouted from the backroom, scaring both Ven and Luca alike. “Do you see Luca?”

“Yeah.” he lazily replied. “He’s out here talking to some reeds.”

Skuld immediately left the backroom just to glare at Ven. He flinched a little at her gaze.

“Get him away from those!” she demanded. “I’m still going over what’s come in.”

Ven blinked at her, then looked over at Luca. The kid was literally doing nothing but staring at the other flowers now. He probably even had an acute awareness he was being talked about, but not being talked to. Ven turned his attention back to Skuld with a face that was trying to feign innocence.

“Why? They're edible.”

“Not when you're still able to choke on fine cut food!” his boss immediately retorted. All it did was spark a moment of defiance.

“Skuld, there are full grown adults that still choke on normal cut food. Your point is getting more moot by the moment.”

“I can't believe you and Sabrina aren't dating yet.” Skuld mumbled under her breath. “You share the same amount of… Urg. Just get Luca away from those flowers!”

Perhaps a bit too amused at his superior's frustration, Ven let out a short chortle before setting the price stickers down. Skuld only grimaced as she went to the backroom again. Still grinning, Ven walked over to Luca, finding himself bemused by the kid still, and asked without meaning any harm; “Whatcha doing there, Luca?”

The toddler immediately jumped, then looked up at Ven with wide, curious eyes. Slowly, as if he were aware he could be in trouble, Luca's little face started to break. Poor Ven was in no way prepared for the kid's wailing. He immediately flinched and covered his ears at the sound.

“You're not in trouble! You're not in trouble!” Ven quickly said, awkwardly making his way down to the floor to be at Luca's eye level. “Just gotta be careful, alright?”

But this didn't stop Luca from crying. If it was any consideration, Ven was sure the toddler didn't even hear him. Cursing under his breath, Ven looked around the flower shop for anything that could distract Luca. There were some plush toys in a display close by. Maybe one of those would work? Ven wasn’t going to leave it up to guessing. He quickly went to the display, quickly located and snatched a dolphin plush, then went back over to Luca.

“Here there buddy,” he said, bringing the plush close to Luca’s eye range. “Do you wanna cuddle buddy?”

Luca stopped crying just long enough to give the plush a glance, shove it of his eyesight, and let out a rather clear, very angry, “No!”

Ven let out a long (and very tired) sigh of defeat. Wasn't Skuld the one that was supposed to be babysitting this tiny person? Why did it feel like he was doing all the work?

But first, he had to shut Luca up.

What else could Ven distract Luca with? Better question- what did Luca even like? Was there anything in this store that could calm this kid long enough so he wasn’t the loudest sound on the block? All this crying had to be stressful for him. Heck, it was stressful for Ven! An even better question right about now was ‘where on earth is Skuld?!’ because that was rather important too. Could she really not hear Luca wailing from the backroom? Maybe he should check on her…

Luca’s crying hit a note so high pitched the Ven flinched. He turned his attention back to the kid in defeat. Unsure of what else to do, he tried to rack his brain on what Ephemer and Anora did to calm Luca down. But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Usually Luca wasn’t whining. Ven did get an idea though. Carefully, Ven put his hand on Luca’s head, trying to mimic the way Ephemer ruffled his son’s hair. To his surprise, it actually seemed to work. Luca started to settle down little by little until he gave nothing more than a few sniffles.

“There you go, buddy.” Ven cooed, sounding like he was more addressing an angry bear than a child. “Feel better now?”

Luca rubbed his eyes before turning to Ven. It was slow to make sure Ven didn’t stop gently kneading his fingers into Luca’s hair. The toddler gave Ven a few tired blinks. Apparently crying for five minutes straight was particularly draining.

“Tell me.” Luca said to Ven, pointing to an arrangement to his left. Ven blinked. He didn’t hallucinate that sentence, right?

“Tell you what? About the flowers?”

Luca gave him a determined nod.

“But I don’t know-” Ven tried to tell him, but Luca was a smart kid. He purposely started to make his face break again, and even started a little whimper before Ven caught on. “Wait, wait, wait!” Ven quickly stammered, removing his hand from Luca’s head to throw them up in defense. “I might know some stuff. And look, I could probably look some things up on my phone too. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Still milking his leverage over Ven , Luca wiped his eyes as he gave another nod. Ven let out a relieved sigh. It should be that hard to fake what he knew about plants, right? As Luca gave a long yawn, Ven hoped that he could probably even be able to lull the kid into sleep. Honestly, he was practically doing Skuld’s job for her.

. . .

Ephemer and Anora returned to the flower shop thirty minutes earlier than expected. They seemed to be in good spirits, so the date must have gone on well enough. Skuld was quick to hand Luca and his baby paraphernalia back to his parents.

“He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Ephemer asked, taking the duffle bag as Anora got their son.

“Not at all.” Skuld affirmed. “I was a bit preoccupied with the shipment that came in, so Ven helped out a bit.”

Hearing this, Ephemer and Anora looked at Skuld like she had proposed murder. Ephemer was the one who let out a forced laugh before saying,  “Skuld…? Your shift ended before I dropped Luca off, that’s why we left him with you.”

“Knew it.” Ven mumbled under his breath. The parents looked at him before returning their attention to the rather unapologetic Skuld.

“I still watched him.” she insisted. “And now I still have some work to do before heading home for the night. Ven’s shift is ending for the night, and we all know he won’t do the inventory count tonight.”

“Because at this time of night, we do it in the morning.” Ephemer told her. Skuld didn’t seem to pick up on his annoyance. Instead, she went to the backroom before anyone could stop her.

Ephemer let out a long sigh of exhaustion. He should have known better, honestly. He looked at Anora and grinned. It was meant as a signal for them to head out, but Anora had other plans. She carefully nudged Ephemer, giving him a small look that he could read well. Ephemer nodded before digging into his wallet to find a twenty dollar bill.

“Here Ven, take this,” he offered. Ven just looked back at him with the most bewildered look. Ephemer saw it and just laughed. “We all know how Skuld gets when she doesn’t leave work. I’ll come in on my next shift with another twenty for you.”

“But I don’t-” Ven tried to argue, but it was Anora who stepped up to place a gentle hand on Ventus’s elbow. The teen froze right then and there. It was honestly the more polite thing to do- Anora didn’t really have much of a grip on him.

“Thank you for watching Luca tonight.” she carefully told him- for a moment it made him wonder if she thought she was to blame for some reason. “If Ephemer doesn’t pay you back, I will. And that’s a promise.”

“O-oh no, ma’am.” Ven quickly stuttered out. “It’s fine! Honest! It wasn’t even a big deal. Nah. Not really. Luca’s a pretty cool kid when you sit down and play with him. Pretty smart too. Nothing to sweat about. Hardly interrupted anything. Really.”

Anora offered a polite smile, although Ven felt guilty under it all the same.

“See you later, Ven!” Ephemer waved as the family left the shop. Ven waved back, still feeling guilty from Anora’s generosity. Luca watched Ven from other his mother’s shoulder- the expression was particularly hard to decipher. Ven just hoped it was one of respect. That little brat better not forget what Ven did for him today.

“Definitely having a girl.” Ven mumbled under his breath before clocking out for the day.

[mymadmedleyw]

Memories

Summary: Even if you try to block things out, sometimes, those things want to find you...

(ao3 | ff)

---

Dan growled, holding his head, and then grabbed the nearest pillow to cover his ear, but the echoing ringing didn’t go away and it didn’t become quieter either. He shut his eyes to force himself to sleep, trying to close it out. But at first, he wasn’t sure if he could sleep at all and- well, he either could tell if that was necessary. It would die away eventually. They had to give up, right? It was like, what? Nearly eleven? Who the hell was even calling the Fentons that late? It must have been some bored teenagers, right? A part of a stupid truth-or-dare game or something like that.

He tried to ignore the echoing noise, really, but it just didn’t want to shut it. He was even wondering if that was even real. It shouldn’t have been ringing that long naturally, right? Especially, he was wondering about how the hell the others could sleep with this damn constant ringing. Or was it just his quite sensitive hearing that he couldn’t endure it? Yeah, right, growing up along with the famous Jack Fenton-snoring, clearly built up a kind of immunity to each irritating sounds at nights, but still… But then, he gave up. He couldn’t bear this high sound any more.

Dan murmured a cursing under his nose, phasing through the floor and appeared downstairs. He looked around checking the surroundings if there was anyone nearby, or if Danny was secretly having a snack in the unlighted kitchen, but then as only the darkness was present, with no one around, he dropped invisibility. For a slight moment, he was waiting for anything to happen, but as nothing moved, he determined to aim for the damn phone, but- an eerie feeling that something was wrong slowly was crawling in the back of his mind, realising just now, here, now, everything was quiet, in almost dead silence.

“In fine!” he snapped, lifting his arms to the air, fumingly and shook his head unbelievably, then he turned around to fly back, but as he showed his back to the living room, the sound again hit his ear. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” Dan exclaimed, taking some harsh steps towards the room, just to stop at the small table, facing the ringing object with a raised up pointy finger. “I don’t care if Danny would be blamed for it, or anyone, I’m gonna destroy you, you piece of shit. You're gonna be wasted to the smallest atoms, and even! I’m gonna destroy those atoms too!” he threatened the landline, even if it sounded just as ridiculous in his mind as it must have seemed from outside.

He grabbed the phone suddenly from the table, holding it for a second, and then- he pulled out the line that connected it to the electricity, putting it down to its place with a quick movement. “Now, shut it!” he said then, starting a long staring contest with it, but then- the obvious winner nodded approvingly. “Just as I thought.” Dan declared his victory, and turned around, leaving the loser behind with its rather miserable fate.

He took a step ahead, deciding to go back to Jazz’s room, to his current hiding place and not thinking about this, at all, that after everything, literally after everything, a small object could annoy him more than anything else, more than any pathetic ghosts that he had met with in the past ten years, or even earlier when- but then, it rang.

Dan stopped at the spot by the noise like he would have been literally got petrified. “ What? ” he breathed out without any sound, not even realising his eyes widened in confusion and… fear. How that- it just couldn’t be, but- and then he managed to put it together, he saw it. It wasn’t the phone that was ringing now or either earlier. Yeah, it was, but- not this phone, not this phone here…

He pinched the bridge of his nose, moaning but then turned back and sat down with crossed legs on the floor, facing the unconnected landline, giving up to fight against the unavoidable.

“All right then, you’re not gonna let me alone, am I right?” he took the rhetorical question, letting out a deep resigned sigh, and took in his hand the receiver...

---

“ I know it’s you!” he barked into the phone as he, in fine, answered it. It had been ringing constantly, echoing within the empty walls, getting on his nerves in the past days. “Leave me alone!” he shouted, slamming it down, but he was too angry to hit the base of it, missing it and by that, he caught the man’s voice from the other side.

“Daniel!”

“Why can’t you just give up?!” he shut it to the desk, again and again, until it got completely destroyed. He even couldn’t tell why he hadn’t got it into pieces after the first fifty calls – or after the first few times when he had got sure it had been only the man calling him again and again, not letting it go.

Now, it was destroyed, completely wasted, and… he was just gazing at it, expecting to hear the ringing again, but nothing happened. And then, he let out a deep eased breath.

“In fine.” he whispered, and then… there was just quietness. And it remained like that. He closed his eyes to enjoy it. After that, there was now, just silence, nothing else, calmness, and… it made an almost eerie feeling like when- but no, either that time hadn’t been complete stillness. He had heard the quiet sobs, the wind blowing and… always something had made a bit of noise, but now… well, now, he expected to hear the ringing echoing from the walls or in his ears, after all, that had been constant since that, and the man had either given up trying to reach him.

He wasn’t sure for how long he was sitting there, with crossed legs, for how long he was consumed by the dead silence, got sucked by it like it had been a black hole, and he would have been the smallest atom in the universe, unable to do anything against the endless nothingness, but then- he stood up and walked to the lab, avoiding to look around in the room, only aiming for one particular box where he remembered the specialised Fenton Phone was kept.

It wasn’t yet modified to a ghost connected purpose (and either it wasn't an option any more for anything to be modified), it was just working as a simple landline if the person could connect the wires precisely. And luckily it wasn’t that complicated. It took a few minutes to make it work like the previous phone, but then he grabbed it, placing it on the small desk and changing the destroyed one with it.

For a second he was just looking at it, but after that, before he could have changed his mind, or before he could have realised what he was doing, he dialed. It might have surprised him how he had known the man’s number, but he had to admit he had seen it as much on the small screen that it must have burned into his subconscious, just to remember it now with ease. And even his far relatives hadn’t called him that much to memorize their numbers…

“ Sorry.” he whispered in a low voice, without even waiting for the other to tell anything, as soon as it clicked noting the man answered the phone. For a moment there was just surprised silence, but then a deep breath was heard, only by that he recognised, he was the one calling the man, not the other way or answering in fine for the calls.

“No, it’s… I am sorry.” the other said. “I shouldn’t- I really shouldn’t have called you that many times, that's just insane, I just...“ the voice paused suddenly but then continued. “I just wanted to apologise for not being there. I couldn’t- I couldn’t be there. And I know you think because of her and…" for a second the line remained quiet, he wasn't sure the man would finish the sentence at the end. He hoped the other was on to it because he couldn't say anything, or know what to say, but then, luckily the man spoke again, breaking the short silence. "I should have been there, I know. At the- at the funeral." he heard as the word got almost choked. "I just- I think I just couldn’t. I hope you can forgive me, Daniel.” the tone was very low now, it almost begged him.

He gazed at the floor, unsure what to say, running his fingers absently on his thigh, just to do something meanwhile, just to do something ... For a very long minute, no one said anything, but then the man was speaking again.

“I know it must be hard, and I know it must be not a bit odd hearing that from me, but- if you need anything, with anything I can help, or simply just... I don’t know-“ the thought couldn’t be finished, he immediately slurred it out, without even realising he was saying aloud his inner thoughts:

“I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to- I can’t disappear. If I disappear, they’d search for me twice as much and- and they want to talk, everyone is just always talking and- and I don't want to talk, I don't want to see their faces, those faces and- they are always coming, I don't want them to come, I don't want to-“ he shut his mouth keeping the rest rather unvoiced, and only finishing it mentally. 'Seeing them cry, comforting me and seeing them behave naturally while I- I couldn't do that.'

They all thought he was sad, devastated, so they always hugged him and touched him and everything, that they thought was helping, but- it wasn’t that, it was just about that-

"It's empty." he said then, describing rather by that how he was feeling himself, if that was a feeling at all, but he knew the man was thinking he meant the place under the note. He just wanted to be out of here, out of everything, out of this- situation. Or just be normal, like everyone else, just as even the man's voice was hollow, almost broken, even him could feel. But sure, why couldn't he? She was one of them.

The man without any hesitation, described. “I can be there within a few hours, even quicker if I fly. Wait- no. I can be there within an hour, yes, I can be there within an hour. Is it-?”

“Wait. No!” he stopped him, by that, there was a sudden pause at the line. He knew the man was waiting for him, letting him time to express the reason for the abrupt interruption. He looked around, but then he closed his eyes, mumbling under his nose explaining. “I don’t want to be here.”

There was then just silence, it seemed as the other was thinking, but then there was a breath, an almost resigning one. "I... I'll send you a car then, all right? I'll- I'll prepare for you a room here. Is it- is it good for you to- to stay here for a while or to come here?" the man inquired, hesitating. "I mean, it's... it's only a temporary solution, but- till we figure out what to do then, all right? I... You can pack as many things as you want to, or as less as you want, I won't push you or anything. I just... if you don't want to talk, we don't need to talk at all, I'll be out of your sight, if- if it is working for you, coming here. I mean it's..." the voice trailed off, but then added with a much steadier tone. "I'd be glad though, you, being here..." it wasn't finished, there was clearly a 'but', hanging in the air.

He knew what the man was meant how it must have felt for him, this offer and even, he was thinking about it too, and... but- strictly speaking, he didn't care if that was about that, he didn't care about it, not in the least. And for once, he would get right of it, get rid of this damn situation, being out of it. And all things considered, the man was (or had been?) his enemy, just because she had- that didn't mean anything, right? And to tell the truth, he didn't care about if that was about the same damn thing, getting him. The man wouldn't pester him and... that was what he wanted, someone not caring with him and... he needed someone who was not caring with him, checking on him constantly, expecting things from him and... and for sure? Hardly it was about him, about his current miserable state, it was still about getting him, right?

"Daniel?" came the question and by that, he realised he wasn't saying anything for a long time. "Is it- is it working for you? I can figure out something else if it's not..."

He shook his head. "No, it's- it's okay." he knew his voice was barely a whisper this time.

"All right then. I'll see you soon. Until then..." he was holding the phone in his hand to end the call, when he caught the man saying the last words. "hold on little badger, all right? Everything will be fine." and then, he closed the line.

---

"Liar." Dan breathed out, gazing at the phone, blankly. He was aware it wasn’t that one, but still…

His jaw tightened, raising his hand to destroy the damn landline with an ectoblast not caring that he basically was supposed to hold back his energy, but then- he lowered his arm, realising he could still recall the number.

For a long minute, he was just staring at the object again, and after that, he suddenly grabbed the phone, fingers on to dial, just to hear that voice again like- just as everything was before, before everything, but then- then he paused and just pulled back his hand, dropping it into his lap.

“No, he is not him. ” Dan reminded himself, and just by that, he felt as if a thousand tones would have been on his shoulder, imagining- imagining what would happen if once he got there, knowing it would happen no matter what. Within a few days, it would happen. He didn’t feel himself ready for that meeting, seeing the man, like- like nothing would have happened, like-

He shook his hand, recognising he wouldn’t be ever ready for that, but- he had no other choice and… on the weekend, just as Jazz had asked him to go that time, within the next few days, they would go there and then- he had to face him…

Dan stood up, feeling an urge to get an aspirin or something that could make this growing headache gone, ending somehow this damn stirring in his mind, but he knew well, for him it was not an option. That was human and- he unconsciously rubbed his chest feeling that sharp pain again, and under the movement the- he gazed at his hand, wondering for a second, but then let out a growl. No, he was just making up things.

“I fucking hate this place.” he commented, turning back to invisible and floating back to Jazz’s room, trying to occupy himself with something instead. He couldn’t tell with what exactly, but he had to find something (above that damn questionnaire or to read one of Jazz's psychology books, because no, he wouldn’t be that desperate to use those as a distraction).

If he had to count sheep the whole night or gazing at the ceiling, he would do it – sounded way better anyway than any other options he had. But then, he realised, just a little peek at that paper wouldn’t hurt, just to be aware of how ridiculous questions Jazz had come up with. Not that he would answer those, just ‘for fun’, and now, he needed something like a diversion before he abruptly would make a decision and walk there to escape from everything else. How long that would take? – he was wondering for a moment. One, maybe two days tops, even less if he hitchhiked. For that note, the idea got a strong no.

“No, not again.” he declared, moving his hand in the air to emphasize the decision and then he got out rather that damn paper from the upper drawer of the desk. Staying here, bearing with everything in this ‘familiar’ place and using Jazz as a taxi service then sounded much better than dealing with any other annoying humans who just didn’t have the ability to shut up. To close that internal debate, he got a pen too and sat back with the questionnaire to his sleeping spot, preparing himself mentally for the obviously dullest questions his ‘sister’ could come up regarding him or the future.

And on the other hand, in fine, there was just silence within the walls, accompanied by snorings from each room, and even a soft one, from a few feet away from him too. Dan for a moment cracked a smile on the recognition, and to the idea to mention to Jazz in the morning that against her hopes she inherited the 'snoring' too, but then he took a look at the handwritten questions. Getting to know how she was feeling about him, being here, sounded better than trying to sleep or dealing with an other pleasant memory, especially with the ones that involved him too. And, well… today, he had far enough with these damn memories anyway.