#i see on my dash / have been targeted by / my friends have been targeted by

[chuluoyi]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

[cassiopeia-longbottom98]

Nott's Big Question

Relationship: Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo takes you to dinner. It's just a normal dinner at Blaise's, right?

Warning: Use of Y/N

_______________________________________

"Theo, thank you so much for dinner. You know how much I love Blaise's lasagna." I said happily. I tilt my head to the side and smile.

Theo stares back at me in awe. He admires us from across the table. "My goddess, you are absolutely stunning tonight. You always are, but tonight even the stars are envy your beauty."

I blush at the compliment. Theo has always been very good with his words, but they always seemed to leave me flustered.

"T-thanks Theo.", I say blushing, "You look dashing as ever. Blaise should offer you as dessert." I wink at him.

Theo grins, "Only for you, my darling."

You both talk about your day. Theo rants about how Draco keeps coming in late and how he has to pick up Draco's slack.

Ever since Draco and Hermione had gotten back from their honeymoon 3 months ago, Draco has been coming in late. I have my theory that she's pregnant. She wasn't looking too well after she had to use the floo when we had dinner last week. Theo thinks they are just shagging all the time.

"Hey Y/n!" Ginny calls. I look up to see Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Ginny and Harry have been married for a few years now. Their wedding was on the cover of the Daily Prophet for at least two weeks.

I smile and greet them. "Are you guys here on date night as well?" Theo asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah. Ginny has been talking about wanting to come back here, since Y/n's birthday dinner." Ginny elbows Harry in the side. Harry grunts and glares at his wife.

"Anyways, I see you guys are here on date night." Ginny smiles and gives Theo a weird look.

'I wonder what that was about.' I think to myself but eventually brush it off.

Harry and Ginny go and sit at their table and we continue with our date.

Theo and I continue to eat your food in comfortable silence. It was never uncomfortable between you guys. He looks up at me and smiles.

When I first met Theo back in second year, he never smiled. I remember the first time I saw it.

It was fourth year and everyone was coming back at the Yule Ball. Draco seemed to be in a mood. Pansy stormed off to the dorm room, and everyone else was starting to get tired. Blaise wanted to lighten the mood and to make his best friend smile, so he asked Blaise to dance. Both being purebloods, they obviously knew to dance properly. The two of them started doing the tango. I watch from afar. Being a muggleborn sorted into Slytherin was rare and that meant I was an easy target.

I laughed at the boys being silly. I turned to see Draco smirking. I looked back at the dancing duo and was taken back. Theo had the most beautiful smile and his laugh could cure all things evil. The Slytherin common room never felt warmer.

"Well, hello lovers. I took time out of my very busy schedule to bring you this exclusive dessert." Blaise greeted. I giggle at his antics. Blaise has always been dramatic. Blaise shows us his very new cheesecake, carrot cake cheesecake. Theo grunts, trying to convince Blaise to leave.

Blaise chuckles and looks down at me, "You know Y/n, if you ever get tired of him, my bed is always available." I chuckle at him as he walks away. Theo mutters about how he is going to kill him.

"Theodore darling, we both know you won't kill him. Who else would you dance with?" He glares at me as he tries a bit out of the cheesecake.

I take a bite and moan. Theo looks up at me hungrily.

"Y/n, would you care for a stroll after dinner?" Theo asks. "I am going to have to work off this cheesecake to keep this sexy body." He grins at my laugh.

"I would love it. Got to keep that figure or else I may have to take up Blaise's offer." I wink at him.

He glares at me as he finishes and goes to pay.

As we walk down Diagon Alley, I lean into him to try and warm myself. "Cold, my love?" Theo asks softly.

I nod. I feel as the warming charms that Theo placed work its magic. Theo has always been a sweetheart. He doesn't act like it around others, but he's such a softie with me. As we walk, I feel Theo pull my closer and wrap his arm around my shoulders. I lean into smelling smoke, wine, and cinnamon. His scent comforts me.

Abruptly we stop, and I look up at Theo. I see him grinning, his cheeks dusted with red.

"Remember this spot?" He asks cheekily. I look up and see we are outside of Fortescue's Ice cream Parlor.

I blush. "Oh Merlin. How could I forget?" It's the day I embarrassed myself in front of you."

"By embarrassed, you mean ruin one of my favorite shirts." I smack his arm. "You know it was an accident." He chuckles. Theo grabs my hands and smiles at me.

"You know that is one of my favorite memories of you. I don't understand how I never noticed you before then. I love your dark green eyes and sandy brown hair. You make my life so much better. I never knew happiness or love until I met you. You know how my father was. I would go through again every time if that meant I would get to be with you. Y/n Smith, I will love you until the day my magic gives out. I will love you until Draco and Blaise stop getting annoying.", Theo says as he gets down on one knee with a ring in his hand, "Will you please do me the honor of marrying me and making me the happiest man in this galaxy?"

I stand there stunned. I never imagine Theo would be on one knee in front of me. I stare at him until I could see the nerves starting to hit. I squeal and wrap myself around him. "Yes, Yes, Yes!!!" I yell. I hear Theo curse under his breath.

"Salazar woman, you about gave me a heart attack. I thought you were going to say no." Theo chuckled.

I look at him and place my hand on his cheek.

"Merlin Theo, I never thought you would have proposed to me. I would always say yes to you. I love you so much."

I pull Theo closer and kiss him softly. Theo leans in and deepens the kiss.

We finally pull away as we heard people around us start whispering. I stand up and pull Theo up.

We apparate back to our house. As we snuggle on our couch, I look at my ring. "How does Y/n Nott sound?" I look at Theo smiling big.

"It sounds perfect love." Theo whispers and he leans down to kiss me.

[hom3landr]

Homelander has a very merry Christmas

18+

Homelander shakes his head in disbelief as he lounges in his chair at the head of the Seven table. It’s been a year…a whole year since the day you entered his life. He still has the ribbon from that first package, tucked discreetly into his waistband. It’s frayed now and soft from running it through his fingers. He’ll touch his hip softly sometimes, right where he knows it rests, when his ears ring and his eyes begin to burn. Countless lives have been saved just from a little piece of fabric. It was the first gift he’d ever truly been given that didn’t have dozens of corporate strings attached. He wonders if you’ll bring him more candy, now that Christmas is right around the corner. He can still perfectly remember the taste a year later.

But your hands are empty when he sees you, and there’s a nervous stiffness to your shoulders that he’s not sure he enjoys. You’re fiddling with your fingers as you approach. He’s disappointed, he really was looking forward to some candy. But you give him a shy smile and he pushes down the sullenness rising in his chest. You hop up on the table in front of him, a bad habit you’ve picked up ever since that day you brought him the cake. He supposes that’s on him for encouraging you. He ignores the urge to tug you into his lap instead.

“Sooooooo…I don’t have anything for you today but I did want to ask you something.” You look down at your hands before pausing, trying to spark the courage to continue. He tilts his head and waits, somewhat impatient and still annoyed at being denied. He doesn’t like the way you don’t meet his eyes. Surely your fingers can’t be more interesting than him. You take a deep breath.

“IwaswonderingifmaybeyouwantedtocometomyplaceforChristmas?” The words come spilling out uncontrollably and you stiffen up a bit once they’re out, bracing yourself for a denial.

Homelander’s heart stops.

“I know you’re probably really busy and you have plans and other people you’d rather be with.” He doesn’t. “But I was going to make gingerbread and watch some Christmas movies. I don’t have any family close by or…or friends really, so I usually spend Christmas on my own. It won’t be anything fancy but I’ll let you lick the spoon.” You let out an awkward laugh, obviously insecure about the simplicity of your plans. After all, how can your humble apartment compare to Vought’s glitz and finery? How could Homelander be content spending Christmas with a nobody like you?

If you only knew how much the offer wiped away any of the disappointment he felt about the candy. If only you knew how much he’s been longing to join you in the sugar-sweetness of your kitchen. He wants to leap up and take you in his arms. He wants to agree and whisk you away to start the holidays early…and privately. He’s never had a proper Christmas before. Just Vought’s pretty, sterile, fake, holiday bullshit. He found it cruel the way they’d let him watch movies on Christmas when he was in the lab. He still can’t watch A Christmas Story without feeling sick with want. But maybe…maybe this year will finally be different.

But reality sets in. He has the Vought Christmas party. He can’t skip it, as much as he’d love to. He’s been dreading it honestly. She’d always been there before, guiding him, leading him, making sure he got through the event with his shiny grin firmly in place. But that was gone, ended by his own hand. The last fucking bit of Christmas cheer he could have possibly had. He clenches his fist and he watches you shrink back, mistaking his grief for anger at your boldness. He wants to say yes…but he can’t

“We have the company Christmas party, remember? Surely you wouldn’t want to miss that. I get the honor of lighting up the tree” He beams, hoping it assures you that you are not the target of his ire. Sure he’d prefer to be tucked away with you but the party won’t be too bad if you’re there. If you’re there then her absence won’t matter.

But his hopes are quickly dashed.

“Oh I’m not high enough up on the totem pole to be invited, for business or pleasure.” You shrug, clearly not bothered by the corporate snub.

Oh

“Well…I can’t exactly miss it.” Your face falls at his reply and the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“But if you don’t mind staying up a little later, then maybe I can swing by real quick after to grab a cookie or two.” He reaches out to lay a hand warmly on your knee

You return his grin despite the disappointment in your eyes.

“I’ll wait up for you then”

~~~~~~~

It’s late by the time he’s finally released from his shiny decorated prison. He’s sick to death of Frank Sinatra and mistletoe. He barely resisted crushing the hand of every asshole who felt entitled to his attention purely due to the holiday festivities. He gritted his teeth while he was forced to kiss the asses of board members and politicians. He barely avoided lasering A-Train’s head clean off his body when he wrapped his arm around him for a photo op. He’s so overloaded that he’s halfway to his penthouse for some much needed rest when he remembers your offer.

He pulls aside some tipsy asshole for the time, annoyed that no one seems to have remained sober. It’s not long until midnight and he worries that maybe you’ll already have given up waiting. He worries that he’ll get to your apartment to find you already snug and sleeping in your bed. He reminds himself that he can always wake you up. After all, he’s seen you bake until the wee hours of the morning. He remembers when he’d watch you bake till not long before you’d be needing to rise for work. Surely…surely, you haven’t forgotten to wait for him.

The night is frigid as he flies towards your apartment. The cold doesn’t hinder him but it isn’t exactly pleasant as the sharp wind stings his cheeks. He’d always wave away Maeve’s complaints but he reluctantly admits to himself that she had a point about freezing over the Atlantic. Luckily it’s a far shorter path to your apartment building. So he ignores it. The thought of you keeps him warm anyway.

What he can’t ignore is the distinctly human shaped figure waiting on the roof. He knows your form intimately and he’s clocked you the moment he sees you. You’re shivering, wrapped only in an old threadbare bathrobe over some red pajamas. It’s far too cold to be loitering without winter wear and an exasperated concern grows in his chest. Couldn’t you at least have grabbed a jacket? It wouldn’t do for you to catch hyperthermia before he even gets to celebrate Christmas with you. You haven’t seen him yet and he makes sure to land behind you as quietly as he can, lip twitching mischievously.

“Are you cold? You look like you’re freezing” He calls out from the other side of the roof. You leap into the air and stumble a bit too close to the edge for his liking so he rushes to steady you. Even through his gloves he can feel how chilled you are. You look back at him, disbelief on your face but surprised delight in your eyes. You shake in his arms and before his brain consciously makes the decision to, he swiftly detaches his cape to wrap it warmly around your shoulders. Your cheeks heat despite the chill and he’s deeply pleased by the way you look and the way his scent mixes with yours.

“I’m alright. I was waiting for you! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to make it.” You clasp his cape tighter around you, teeth chattering. He pulls you closer so some of his heat can seep into you. He realizes that you may have been too focused watching for him to realize how chilled you are. He tuts at you, both flattered by your devotion and annoyed that you were so careless with your health.

“Would it have killed you to grab a coat?” He rubs your frozen hands between his gloved ones. Your answering smile is sweet and he’d blush if he could (He can. He did.)

“Are you worried about me?” You tease him lightly, eyes soft.

“I was promised gingerbread. If I’m promised something then I expect it to be delivered” He gives you a stern glare that’s tempered by the slight twitch of his lip as he fights a smile.

“Well, I can’t possibly deny you, can I?” Your lips quirk into a cheeky smirk. Your lighthearted words settle warm and heavy in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you feel so beautifully fragile in his grip, a small precious light that he keeps warm between his palms. You’re his. You’re so wonderfully his in this moment and deep within him, so deep he doesn’t even realize it yet, he’s become inescapably, completely, ineffably, yours.

You gesture for him to follow you down the fire escape to your floor. He follows behind as though he doesn’t have the way to your apartment imprinted in his mind. But your legs are stiff from the cold and after you slip slightly on the slick metal of the fire escape, he scoops you into his arms. You cling to him, stunned at the quickness and ease at which he gathered you up against his chest. You’re disoriented and wrap an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

“Don’t drop me!” you squeak and he laughs in response. You’re light as a feather to him and he’s not hindered by you at all. He would never, could never drop you.

“I won’t let you go, ever.” He reassures you and you relax against him, trusting him. You tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, and all of a sudden he has a sharp regret that his collar rises so high on his neck. He longs to feel your softness and your eyelashes brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. He can’t resist leaning his head against yours as he climbs effortlessly down the thin and rickety steps.

When he reaches your apartment, he assists you in finding your footing and guides you inside. You don’t question how he’s able to navigate your apartment with ease. Stepping into your kitchen is like getting reborn into another life, a life that he had been cruelly denied. You’ve decorated every inch. False snow lines the top of your cabinets and it charms him to see tiny figures and miniature buildings tucked into the fuzzy winter wonderland. Mismatched bowls of ingredients line the counter, and deep red liquid smelling strongly of spice is steaming on the stove. It smells heavenly. It’s the same scent he normally loathes, the artificial scent burning his nose and giving him headaches, one of the few pains that he can experience. But there is nothing faked or imitated here and the rich smell makes his head swim pleasantly. His mouth waters and his jaw aches at the sweet spicy deliciousness in the air. It’s lovely and warm and you immediately shake off the shiver as you enter.

He blinks back sudden tears at the sight of a brightly lit tree twinkling merrily in the corner of the living room, a yule log crackling on the television. It’s perfect. Your tiny crumbling apartment that he would have scoffed at in any other time, is suddenly finer than any palace. His chest tightens almost painfully.

“It’s not much but I did my best to make it festive! The cookie dough is chilling in the fridge and there is as much eggnog and mulled wine as you could want. Help yourself.” You nod at the pot on the stove, hands on your hips, looking as confident as he’s ever seen you now that you’re in your domain. It’s not normally the response he gets when someone sees him in their home. He takes a brief scan of your fridge.

“Just milk for me, thank you.” He responds and you shrug and take a glass out of the cabinet. You fill it up full and hand it over. He takes a big chug. 2%

Perfect

“Well, I’m gonna have myself some mulled wine.” You grab another glass and fill yourself up a healthy serving. A tiny sip has you sighing deeply in pleasure and he wants nothing more than to lick the remnants off your lips. Your temperature is rising by the second and when he’s satisfied that you’re sufficiently warmed he relaxes a bit, wandering around your kitchen to look at everything.

You busy yourself taking a large bowl of dough out of the fridge and lining the counter and a baking sheet with parchment paper and a light dusting of flour. He’s distracted looking through all your cabinets. Nothing of yours is very fancy and it’s all a bit mismatched which he finds charming in a quaint kind of way. He rifles through your dish towels, smelling them to see if your scent still lingers. Then you tap him on the shoulder. He turns to find you with your head cocked and your arms wrapped around a large bowl, eyes shining and bright

“I promised gingerbread but first you have to help.” You wink at his baffled expression before turning around to begin scooping out the dough onto the parchment paper. “And take off your gloves! This stuff can get sticky.”

He’s still standing there frozen when you hand him a rolling pin. He frowns at it disdainfully before raising a skeptical eyebrow. This is so…beneath him.

“C’mon, let your inner kid out a little. I promise it tastes better when you’ve helped make it.” You shake the rolling pin at him.

Inner kid

You don’t have a single fucking clue.

He grumpily removes his gloves. He feels naked without them. He feels so raw, the Christmas cheer welcome but also a painful reminder of everything he was denied. He wants to be here but he feels unsure how to exist in a space when there are no expectations, no predetermined role he can play. Shedding the gloves feels like shedding a layer of skin but he can’t deny you when you look at him like that. You’re still wearing his cape around his shoulders and a sharp possessive pang runs through him.

His

He reaches out to grab the rolling pin.

“Normally people avoid giving me heavy blunt objects” He remarks dryly, although he quickly regrets it. It doesn’t seem to phase you though. You’ve heard the stories.

“You are a heavy blunt object capable of plenty of damage so I don’t think handing you a rolling pin is going to make much difference. Now get to work while I preheat the oven” You reach out to gently push him towards the dough.

He stares at it, frozen.

The dings from the oven ring in his ears.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what to do. The mechanics of a rolling pin are not difficult to fucking grasp. It’s just…none of this feels real. It feels like he’s still back in this lab and this is some cruel dream that will fade away into empty white. It’s like making one wrong move will shatter everything

He can’t lose this.

“Here! The recipe says ⅛ of an inch so you’ll need to roll it like this.” Your breath is hot on his ear as you lean in behind him.

Your hands rest tenderly on top of his as you gently guide him.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Your touch burns and a ravenous monster wakes in his chest. It howls and wails against the prison of his ribcage. He can smell you, hear your heart racing, practically taste the heavy scent of your soaking cunt into the air. The wood creaks under his grip as your thumb brushes against his. His cock is hard and leaking into the tight spandex of his pants. The ribbon on his hip is like a brand; like your hands are on him there too.

Fuck the cookies

The throb of his cock urges him to devour your brown sugar pussy instead.

But as strong as the sudden rush of his arousal, it pales in comparison to the prickling sting of tears at such a kind touch. The last person to touch him like this was…

Fake

Just like everything else

Except you

Except this.

A quiet sob escapes him but if you notice then you don’t acknowledge it. You just keep pushing your palms against his hands in a steady rhythm, the dough easily giving way. Your body rocks against his and the softness of you warms him to the core. He sees the flutter of his own cape out of the corner of his eye.

His

You’re his.

The whole world narrows down to only the two of you.

He could stay here forever with you. Life with you could be like Christmas for eternity. He’d never be alone. You’d never be alone. Just gingerbread scented air and mulled wine, and your body pressed to his forever.

“Alrighty! That just about does it. We just need to get out the cookie cutters and we’ll be good to go.” You pull back.

Something inside him snaps and he turns and grabs your shoulder, tugging you into him. You blink owlishly at him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He reaches out to caress your cheek, relishing the warmth against his bare hand. You lay your hand over his although you make no move to pull away.

“I…” His breath catches.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask breathlessly

You don’t wait for an answer before shyly pressing your lips to his. It lasts barely a second before you're pulling back with a smug little smile. You point up and he barks out an incredulous laugh.

Mistletoe

A sprig of fucking mistletoe is attached to the ceiling.

“I thought you always spent Christmas alone.” He remarks, lips still burning. He’s dreaming. He’s…this can’t be real.

You chuckle.

“I’m not alone this year.” You respond before giving him another sweet kiss that he eagerly returns.

You taste exactly like brown sugar.

He giggles into the press of your lips

Merry fucking Christmas.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Headcanons on all might, and Aizawa reacting to you being engaged to someone

I'm going off the basis that they find out you're engaged to someone and they secretly have feelings for you, to give this a little dash of angst. I might have hurt my own feelings a little, writing this lol

Characters: Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Contents: gn!reader, unrequited feelings

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

All Might has had a lot of women throw themselves at him over the years and he’s taken very few of them up on the offer, if any. Notice that I said All Might has had women throwing themselves at him. Not Toshinori. At least, not in the years since his injury caused such issues with his health. 

You’re probably close enough to him to know his secret. I don’t think he’d develop feelings for someone who only knew him as All Might, as that bombastic persona he puts on would naturally create a buffer between himself and you. But as Toshinori, he doesn’t have that luxury, and naturally, insidiously, his affection for you would start to grow. 

Toshinori isn’t exactly confident about his chances in love. He’s spent his whole life playing a role, hiding who he truly is, and now his health and Pro Hero career are in tatters. He wouldn’t expect anyone to want him as he is, despite protestations to the contrary. He hides it well, but he’s a little jaded, a little cynical in certain aspects.

Not only that, but on the off chance you did want to be with him, you’d end up being a target for every villain who wanted to get a crack at the untouchable All Might. He doesn’t have the strength to protect you. How can he put you in that kind of danger?

So he bites his tongue and grins, and listens to you chatter about this new person you’ve met. He can’t even dislike your new partner. They seem great. Charming. Successful. Kind. It doesn’t lessen the sting that it’s not him. It only gets worse as he sees you going farther and farther down the path of your future with that other person, slipping further and further away from him. 

That engagement ring on your finger rings the death knell for whatever ragged hopes he might have been clinging on to. He squeezes his bony hands into fists, congratulating you in a strained voice. His grin is as bright as ever, blinding you to how it dims around the edges. You notice that he doesn’t stay long at your engagement party, but that’s All Might for you! Always dashing off to play the hero…

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Aizawa is a master of ignoring his own feelings. Suppression, compartmentation, bottling it up…however you want to describe it, he does it. Especially when it comes to interpersonal connections that might leave him vulnerable. We never see him talk about his family, have relationships, and he even keeps his friends at arm’s length. 

It’s not just because it leaves him vulnerable. He harbours a deep-seated, irrational fear that anyone he gets close to will end up getting hurt, so he retreats at the first embers of a deeper connection. Sometimes he’s not even aware he’s doing it. 

That said, he’s still capable of being friends or colleagues with you. You’ll always feel as if there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, and every time you manage to make a chink the mortar, he bricks it right back up. 

So when you do eventually start dating someone else, he feels as if you’re both out of danger. He’s not exactly happy about it. Seeing you falling for someone else fills him with a bittersweet mix of relief and regret. 

Which he also then bottles up. Just open a fucking brewery, Aizawa.

When events follow their natural course and you end up getting engaged, it hits him. Hard. He sits there among your circle of friends or colleagues after you make the joyful announcement, sipping silently at his beer. His chest aches. His throat feels tight. 

And he can’t blame anyone but himself as he sits there, watching you laugh and toast your happy news with the others, your eyes shining. It’s not your fault that he feels this way; he did it to himself. Shouta orchestrated his own heartbreak, and he’s forced to sit there in stony silence as it unfolds before him.

Eventually he just slinks away, leaving his beer half-drunk on the table as the only sign of his presence at the gathering, the label half torn off. 

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Accidentally Finding Family (Bucky Barnes X Teen!Fem!Reader) *PLATONIC, PARENTAL

Characters: Bucky Barnes X Teen!Fem!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: HYDRA, mention of kidnapping, mention of torture, mention of death of family, mention of amputation

Request: Hi can I request a teen reader where she is kind of like Bucky and is a hydra agent that is from the 40s and the team finds her in a base in cryofreeze and Steve and Bucky help her learn to adjust to the future and maybe Bucky helps her deal with nightmares? Or maybe she also has a metal arm and he helps her become less insecure about it idk. Also she ends up seeing Steve and Bucky as parental figures with cute family bonding? Sorry if that’s all over the place!

“Do you have any goals you have in mind for the next year or so? Next five years?” The question, targeted at Bucky, was being asked by his therapist. A few months ago, Bucky wasn’t sure what he would have answered with. A few months ago, Bucky was still filled with grief of a life lost, a life tainted with torture, his memories torn and ripped to shreds with only little fragments he could make out. But Bucky had done a hell of a lot of healing since rejoining his best friend. With therapy, Steve and Wanda’s help, those shreds of his past were being sewn back together, he’d come to accept that while his past is something he’d never fully recover from, he was still in possession of a young body, ready to try to live the life he actually wanted to live before HYDRA. A life with his new friends, and his one old one. He was ready to look into the future. 

He sat back, relaxing into the settee, thinking to himself, before he let his thoughts leave his mouth. “A family.” He started. He looked over at his therapist, who smiled, nodding and notioning him to elaborate. “I loved looking after my little sister before the war. I loved looking out for Steve when he was still a punk… I think it’s always been a part of me to want to look after and care for people. Biological or adopted… the idea of having a child, someone to look after, someone to care for, be there for… to be needed by someone… I’d like that.” 

“That’s definitely a doable goal I think. I think you’re finally in a place where you’d be able to be a caregiver. If you want to be sure, there are volunteering positions to help people at events- young children, camps for teenagers, so on, so forth. There’s also courses to give people more skills and knowledge on raising children that I can enrol you in?” She suggested. Bucky agreed. Not long after all of that, the session ended, and Bucky began his walk back to base to see if anyone had heard from the rest of the team yet. Almost all of the Avengers- except Bruce- had gone out on a mission. Originally he had been meant to go himself, but when the team found out that he had a session booked the same day and he might not make it, they removed him from it, knowing that his healing is far more important than another gun on their already overpowered team. 

About halfway through the walk, was when his phone in his pocket buzzed repeatedly. He felt it easily, and he pulled the phone out, seeing Steve’s name on the front, and he answered it, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey Steve, I’m on my way back now, are you already back?” He asked Steve, continuing his walk. 

“Bucky I need to ask you a serious question and I need you to answer me to the best of your ability.” Steve’s serious tone made Bucky freeze on the side of the street. His eyes darted around the busy streets, finding a corner that was silent and hidden in shadows, and dashing over to it, before answering Steve. 

“Alright. Ask away.” Bucky answered. 

“Do you know of any other Winter Soldiers?” Steve asked, and immediately Bucky’s heart thudded.

“N-No. Wait, did you find more?” Bucky asked. 

“We don’t know… she’s a kid, Buck.” Steve answered. Bucky wanted to be sick, his mind already racing on what exactly they had found. A girl, a young girl, a child, according to Steve. And from whatever information and evidence they had found, it was enough to point them back to the Winter Soldier program and him. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Is she alive?”

“Yeah. Yeah she’s alive, we’re trying to treat her for a few injuries, but we’re having issues… James I think… she’d really benefit with you being here.” He told his best friend. That seemed odd to Bucky. He was a mythical monster to the other weapons of HYDRA, used to scare them into obeying, and he had no doubt that stories of him, even after he had escaped, would have been used to bring fear, especially to children. Still, he trusted Steve and his judgement. 

“Alright. I’ll be there soon.” Bucky answered shortly, hanging up, and his once leisurely stroll back to base, turned into a long sprint marathon. 

He arrived back in less than 20 minutes, finding Natasha already waiting for him, her motioning for him to follow her. “How did you find her?” He asked her. 

“They realised we were attacking them and raised the alarm, and seemingly let her loose with some of their other agents to try and slow us down. That didn’t happen though.” Natasha explained, power walking through the base. 

“What do you mean it didn’t happen?” Bucky asked. 

“She turned on them. She killed several of the guards and scientists herself and we found her in the process of trying to kill the head researcher. He’s getting medical care- it’s 50/50 whether he’ll live or not, not that I really care. After we stopped her, she surrendered to us, but she’s not talking and won’t let anyone touch her. We really don’t want to restrain her Buck, since that will undoubtedly make her worse, but I realised she was bleeding from her leg and we think she’s been shot but we can’t treat her.” Natasha explained, stopping at a door, and finally turning to him. 

“How can I help with this? If anything, she’s going to have heard about me and become terrified.” He questioned, her features softening into a sad smile. 

“Can you take your jacket off and your glove? So she can see it?” She asked. Bucky’s eyes darted down to his arm, flexing his robotic fingers, before looking up at Natasha, unsure and confused. “We’ll introduce you, just… be as soft and kind as possible with her, okay? Trust me.” She asked. Bucky sighed, and with some hesitance, he removed his glove, shoving it into his jacket pocket, before pulling his jacket off, leaving him with just his short sleeve shirt, his arm on full display. Bucky nodded to her, and she opened the door, stepping in and aside to let him in. 

“Come on kiddo, I promise it’ll be over before you know it.” Bucky walked into the scene of Tony trying to talk to you, offering a small bag of fruity snacks, though you kept your head down and totally ignored his presence beside you. Bruce was on the other side of you, looking lost on what he can do without making anything worse. Steve was leant against the nearby wall, spotting Bucky and Nat first, and he stood up straight. Bucky glanced at him, before properly looking at you, and when he did, he understood. 

You were sitting on the medical bed, legs stretched out, your head low, and your arms hugged against your body. Your arms were what Bucky hyper fixated on. They were metal, both of them, all the way up to the shoulders. You had tucked your arms to the best of your ability under the thin blanket that already had a growing blood stain where one of your legs were. Bucky wasn’t sure what had happened to you that meant you had to have both your arms amputated and replaced by robotic ones, or even if there was a reason or if they just did that, but that didn’t matter right now. You were clearly uncomfortable with them being seeing, and your hatred for being touched was something that Bucky empathised with. 

“Thanks for coming so quickly.” Steve spoke up, making Tony and Bruce turn as well, and after a moment, Bucky watched as your eyes also looked up to see who was there, and met his. He was convinced he’d see you flinch, be terrified, and he would make this whole situation worse, but then your eyes left his, and fell onto his arm, and he watched you relax. You actually relaxed in his presence. That immediately made Bucky relax as well as he slowly stepped closer. Tony moved out of his way so he could be by your side.

“English?” Bucky clarified and you nodded at him. “Alright. I’m James, but my friends call me Bucky. I know better than anyone how scary this all is, and how you probably really don’t want anyone prodding or poking at you anymore.” He spoke softly, keeping eye contact with you. He caught in the corner of his eye that you raised one arm from under the sheets, hesitantly reaching for him, specifically his metal arm. He reached out as well, carefully taking your metal arm in his, and your eyes stared at his arm, as the metal sheets slid and moved to adjust, similar to your own, before you looked back at him. 

“They hurt you too?” You asked quietly. Bucky swallowed hard, knowing who ‘they’ were, and he nodded. 

“Lost it originally from falling out of a train, but they kidnapped me and did this… my friends have helped me adjust, and they want to help you too.” He explained to you.

“They…” You hesitated, looking down at your hand holding his, before continuing. “They took mine. I don’t know why. They just did.” You explained to him, and Bucky nodded along, listening to you while also clenching his jaw, trying not to cry. Trying not to squeeze your hand on accident because of his anger. 

“They were wrong for doing that, they were pure evil, and I promise you, you’re safe now, and they can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.” He smiled reassuringly. “As soon as we tend to that bullet wound, we’ll get you settled in, you can start school, be a normal teenager, or as normal as you can be, how does that sound?” He asked, and after a lot of hesitation, you nodded, and with Bucky holding your hand, you allowed Bruce to tend to your wound. 

You didn’t talk to anyone for the first week, other than Bucky, but slowly started talking to the others as time passed. They got you situated in one of the bedrooms on base, but after FRIDAY reported you kept hiding under the bed or locking yourself on purpose in the bathroom and sleeping on the cold tile floor, Bucky made the suggestion to move you into a smaller space. He didn’t have to go into detail when explaining you weren’t used to sleeping on a nice warm bed in a giant room, and how it probably felt alien and wrong to sleep there. Tony didn’t have any rooms that were smaller that could function as a bedroom, and it was Steve who suggested you move into an apartment with one of them, that someone clearly being Bucky. Bucky, like showing up to see you in the first place, wasn’t sure about that idea- worried he’d have a relapse with his nightmares and scare you, but he trusted Steve. Tony paid for an upgraded apartment- a two bedroom in brooklyn, still a small walk away from Steve if he was needed, and Bucky moved all his stuff in before they moved you in. 

“This is the place.” Bucky told you, opening the door to the apartment, and you cautiously stepped inside, looking around. Bucky didn’t have a lot of things, so other than a bookshelf crammed with books, an old radio, the bulky television and some photos before the war on one wall and another wall of photos from after escaping HYDRA. James wasn’t sure how you’d react to all this, so he watched you diligently. He walked around, leaning on a wall, just watching you. He saw your eyes look around, before you spotted his old radio- one that was close replica to the ones before the war- and you seemed to relax, before walking over to it, gingerly touching it, before turning it on, tuning it a little, seemingly disappointed at the radio station, before looking around, and spotting the pre-war photographs, and walked over, looking at them, and smiling. “You like them?” Bucky asked, walking over slowly. 

“They remind me of before the war.” You commented, before seeming to think and turning to him quickly. “Are you from before the war too?” You asked him. Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together. 

“Are you? Y/N, what year did they take you?” He demanded. 

“1940… 1945? I think? The war was still on…” You explained to him, looking back at the photos, spotting him in his uniform. “You were a sergeant?”

“Y/N.” Bucky stepped closely, gently grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. “You were kidnapped by HYDRA before the war? You were frozen?” He asked. You nodded. Bucky hated that. He hated that there was yet another thing you shared with him. Metal arms, HYDRA, lives before the war, being weapons, and thrust into a new world. He’d long accepted that it’s just his life now, but that it happened to you? A kid? He hated it. “Y/N… What do you remember about your life before the war?” He asked. 

You talked for hours. Sitting down on the couch, you just talked about all you remembered, bits and pieces, sometimes certain memories popping up from talking and you’d interrupt yourself just to talk about them. You told him about your parents, your dad being in the army, your mom working in a factory where they made ammunition and ballistics, where unfortunately an accident happened with fire and an explosion, and your mother was killed, leaving you alone for a period of time with your dad other seas and unable to return, and no other family to care for you, before you were sent to go live with a foster family until after the war. That family were actually HYDRA. You didn’t know what happened to your dad, if he survived the war, and if he did, if he looked for you or if he was told you had died and he moved on, maybe had a new family. Maybe you had a step mother, half siblings, maybe you were an aunt now… but you didn’t know. Bucky took the time to text your dad’s name and rank in the war to Natasha and ask her to look into him, and she responded an hour later with an obituary, and a date of death and cause. Killed in action. Bucky told you the news softly, and it was then you stopped talking. You sat there for a period of time, just processing what he had said, and Bucky remained sat there, waiting for you.

“...I’m alone, aren’t I?” You finally spoke up. “I’ve lost everything.” 

“Not necessarily.” Bucky pointed out. “If your dad was in the military, then there’s probably photographs of him. If any photos were taken of you and your family before the war, I know for a fact that Natasha and Tony can find them, and we can get them printed and framed for you, so you can have something of theirs… and you have me.” He told you. You turned to look at him. 

“Really?” 

“Of course. As long as you need me, I’m there. I’ve been through exactly the same thing as you, I know exactly how you’re feeling and I want you to be happy and to have as close to a normal life as possible. Since you live with me, that makes me your guardian. If you want to go to school, I’ll go to all your parent-teacher meetings and help with your homework. If you want to do after school activities, I’ll go to all your games and shows and awards. If you want to talk about the 1930’s and 40’s, let’s talk about it, if you want to talk about what happened with HYDRA, let’s talk about it or we can try therapy if you want. Whatever you want to do with your life, I’ll support you no matter what. I’m here for you, no matter what, and I’m not going anywhere.” He told you. You didn’t respond at first, and when you did, you didn’t respond with words. Instead, you crawled across the couch to be closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your head on his shoulder, and Bucky hugged you back. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.” He heard you speak. He held you as the sun went down, and only after realizing you had fallen asleep and he was gonna have to carry you to bed, that he realized something. He’d done it. He’d reached his goal that he had set with his therapist just over a month ago. It was totally unconventional, nothing he could have predicted, but he’d gotten his family. He’d found the child he wanted, the person he wanted to care and be there for, to watch grow and thrive and to help them with that. He’d found you. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @dailyteambucky @mxrvelsaos @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[vaspider]

Every once in a while, one of the Piles Of Exaggerations And Lies "callout" posts about how one of Tumblr's Two Minutes Of Hate targeted users - yeah, me, but others as well, and in this case it was another one of the users that people feel free to post deeply disturbing murder fantasies about - bubbles across my dash like a wet fart, and after spending like 5 minutes to block a lot of people, bc who needs 'callout post' energy in their life, I'm kinda like...

... you know, if you look through the notes on this for literally like 30 seconds, you can see every moral panic that Tumblr has gone through in its existence. It's like taking a core sample from a tree. Whoever the post is talking about will somehow have been, Gump-like, at every Devil's Sacrament that Tumblr has ever named. Somehow whoever it is perfectly holds the exact Wrong Opinion on every single event that's ever happened.

And like, it goes beyond that. They have to assure themselves that all the people they hate are also secretly best friends, too. There are people that certain circles of Tumblr is certain I'm friends with that I've never spoken to, or may have spoken to once directly. But because we are all Hated, we're all Best Friends.

And you'd think that after a while, anyone with a speck of thoughtfulness would ask themselves, "Hey, do you think maybe this isn't, like, legit, and maybe people on this site have just decided they hate this person & are therefore projecting every moral panic that comes along and everything they don't like onto this person?"

But, like. Of course not, bc that would require admitting that they've been turning some random person into their weird little poppet that they can project everything onto and thus feel better about themselves. "I might be a total asshole who's participating in a weird internet brigade, and I may feel some kinda bad way about shit in my own life, but at least I'm not [person]!"

Anyway. I wish someone would make a script similar to the old MegaBlock on Twitter where you could put in a post URL and block everyone who interacted with it. Just one click. That would fucking rock.

[mushroommanstan]

A douchey frat guy tries to hit on Y/N, only for her to shoot him down. But he’s PERSISTENT. Y/N tries to avoid him until she meets up with Tenko. Ylthe frat guy is SHOCKED that a babe like Y/N is with a ‘creep’ like Tenko Shimura! He tries to convince her to ditch him, until she finally snaps. Instead of tearing the douche a new asshole, she makes her point by aggressively making out with Tenko instead

“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Some frat idiot slurred into your ear, way too close for comfort. You jerked back, turning around in an instant and seeing this guy who’s obviously trying to look sexy. He had a toothpick in his mouth, a surprisingly well maintained soul patch and some messy slicked back hair.

If you were any other girl, you’re sure you’d be at least a little intrigued. Maybe even attracted. But nah, he picked the worst target for flirts at the party.

“Thanks.” You replied apathetically, pointedly looking away from him and back at the busy bartender of the frat house. Your face was blank, your eyes wandering far from him, obviously not interested. Regardless, he persevered.

“S’ anyways, the other day I saw the stupid retro arcade game in the common area. I don’t usually play that stuff, y’know, it’s kinda for nerds. But-“ he glanced down at your phone, seeing the background having the same characters from the game. “Something tells me you dabble in it.” He continued.

“Anyways I got like, 20,000 points or whatever on my first try.” He boasted, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. Seriously? 20k? This guys trying to brag about a measly 20k? Tenko could get that with his eyes closed. Speaking of which…

“Hey y/n?!” You turned your head, searching for the speaker before your eyes landed on the makeshift bouncer at the door. Behind him, a disgruntled Tenko with his arms crossed. “He-yeah, Shimura over here says you invited him?” He chuckled in disbelief.

You held your forehead, shaking your head in dismay. Of course he wouldn’t be let in, damn it, why didn’t you think of that? He must’ve been waiting for you there for ages. Poor baby, you can’t believe you were so careless after all you’re begging for him to come.

Taking your head shaking as an answer, the bouncer turned back to Tenko, crossing his arms as well. “Alright, nice try man. Go home and… sniff panties or something I don’t know, pervert.” Even from the distance, you could see the hurt in tenkos eyes as he stared at you, utterly betrayed.

No. NO! You didn’t mean that-

“Ugh, what’s that guy doing here? Saying he knows you? What a creep. What say you I go over there and-“

The show-off next to you proposed, but you were already gone, hopped off your seat and dashing towards your sweet baby before the door closed. You yanked it open just in time and cried “Yes! Yes oh my god yes I invited him here babe I’m so sorry!”

Tenko let out a sigh of relief, smiling a little as you pulled him inside gently by the arm. You guided him to the bar where you were originally sitting, all the while gushing apologies.

“I promise babe I’ll make it up to you. Here, I got us some drinks coming it should only be a little bit.” You told him, taking your seat as Tenko took his. He just grunted in response, returning to the aloof brick wall he always became in public. (It just made the intimate moments with him in private where he practically melts under your praise all the sweeter)

The frat guy cleared his breath, taken off guard a bit, then after clearing his throat awkwardly, continued. “Yeah, uh, nice friend there, heh. Um… so, anyways, you wanna make my night and come to my place after this for some “coffee”.” He actually did air quotes for the ‘coffee’, being so unbelievably subtle.

Tenko stiffened at this, staring at you in an almost begging way as his tear-jerkingly vulnerable eyes just dared you to pretend you didn’t know him again. They dared you to confirm his insecurities.

You scoffed, taking Tenkos hand in yours and showing it to the guy. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m taken.” In synchronize, the man frowned as Tenko smiled, his fears put to rest as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

The man guffawed un-genuinely. “What? This creep? Seriously? You know he steals girls underwear right?-“

“not proven” Tenko grumbled.

“-right, sure, “not proven”. Seriously doll, what’s he got that I don’t!”

“Well, for one thing, deodorant.” You snapped.

Tenko cackled at that, and the guy fumed. Before losing his cool, he calmed himself under a blanket of delusion. “Whatever. Y’know what? ‘Bet this is all a set up. Yeah, bet you paid him or something so you could play hard to get. The bits over babe, heh, you can’t seriously believe someone like you, would be hanging around with someone like that instead of me.”

Now it was your turn to fume. You saw Tenkos lean muscles tense under his shirt, and his mouth opening as he was about to defend your relationship, but you beat him to the punch. In one swift movement, you made the other man speechless as when you grabbed Tenko by the back of his head and pulled him to you, messily colliding your lips.

He let out a muffled yelp of surprise, grabbing onto your shoulders instinctively as you moved into his lap for better access. You sucked on his tongue before infiltrating his mouth with yours, making him moan and his eye lids droop in pleasure.

The rude fellows jaw dropped, along with those around him at the scene. You were sure to go the extra mile in showing them just how much you loved your Ten-ten, theatrically grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, showing off the fresh hickies on his neck amongst all the scars. The deep purple bruises stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Holy shit!” One of the spectators hollered. “Fucking Shimuras getting more action than Davis!”

Ah, so thats his name. Davis. You could tell it was the sleaze-bags name by the way his face flushed red in embarrassment. He grumbled something before distancing himself from the both of you for the rest of the night lest he humiliate himself further.

Tenko had bit of a quiet night after that while you party-hardyied, opting to chill on the couch for a while playing Pokémon Black 2 while nursing on his whiskey. Every so often he’d glance in your direction, making sure you’re not doing something TOO stupid.

And when it was over, he carried you home bridal style. You weren’t so drunk that you couldn’t walk, but you were drunk enough to whine about wanting to be carried home. He didn’t really mind, it was a good workout anyways.

And when you both made it home, he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead and placing a glass of water along with an Advil for when you woke up. Then, he grabbed his lock picking kit and made his way to the old flirty merty’s house. Davis, right? Yeah, that’s the one.

But don’t worry. He just put an old dog turd on his pillow. A petty, jealous revenge sure, but none the less effective. After all,

You were HIS.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

this person has me blocked, which is something i used to genuinely lament because occasionally i'd see bits of their very thoughtful commentary floating across my dash, and i'd find myself sighing sadly over what other gems of wisdom i was missing out on by not having access to their blog. i'd even lament about it via dms to some of my pals who did still have access to this person's blog. what interesting discussions must have been happening beyond that "???" "this is no one" "uh, who??" opaque door that tumblr always presented to me whenever i clicked on this person's username? would i ever know?

a friend this morning: want to see a bad take to get mad at

me: obviously yes

anyway as it turns out, it looks like i'm missing out on exactly nothing, actually, so that's a huge relief

more seriously, recalling the insightful commentary that i have seen this person reblog in the past when it has come across my dash, i am frankly in awe of this one, because it is so profoundly disconnected from reality and how people experience stories. like i'm not even sure where to start with peeling back all of the wrongness layers at work here because i haven't taken my adhd meds yet this morning, but the primordial stupidity at this take's core (coming from someone who is clearly smart, ftr, i am targeting the stupidity of the concept, not the person) has made me genuinely angry. it's not even just about applying this framework to mdzs, though of course it is principally about that because this book DOES actually place class front and centre at multiple points in the narrative. it's the idea that we just shouldn't be having conversations about classism, or sexism, or [x]-ism, in the romance genre, because don't we realize the point is the romance, actually?? these other things clearly don't matter and aren't worth talking about??? and this mindset is so utterly foreign to me because at no point have i ever felt compelled to stop myself from thinking thoughts about a book because "oh, but this is genre fiction, i need to turn my brain off to read and enjoy this, i forgot." or "this thought is not appropriate because genre fiction, i'd better stop thinking it before i ruin the story."

like. i am deeply, deeply sorry for this person, actually, that they are not picking up on precisely what mxtx is putting down in the text, especially considering mxtx has explicitly explored themes of class in at least two of her novels (i'll get back to you on including svsss once i've read it). but also, a critique of class in the jianghu, or how mxtx has written her female characters, is entirely as valid use of fandom time and energy as writing one more definitely original and not remotely repetitive thinkpiece on the power of wangx!an's morally good love to overcome all obstacles (not saying OP wrote any of these, just that there ARE a bunch of them out there).

like. why do you want to simplify the experience of reading and thinking and talking about these books? why do you want to push for more boring analysis of stories? why are you using your platform to encourage this? i'm so mad about it actually. people listen to you, and this is what you're encouraging them to do: think less.

[myfandomrealitea]

Was your Safe Spaces post discord-(or any closed forum I guess) specific, or do you think the same should go for fandom-themed blogs on tumblr? Like, if I follow someone for Doctor Who content, I'd rather they didn't put real world issues on my dash, but otoh, it's their blog and they get to decide what they post on it (preferably tagged so I can curate). I've observed that people that run themed blogs that become popular often seem to feel an obligation to use their platform for activism (or, in the case of crypto-radfems, deliberately built their platform to recruit), and it stresses tf out of me for the reasons you mentioned, but it's not like the maintags are much safer because there will be spam relating to real-world issues, or antis trying to relate fiction to real world issues.

Realistically; the same outlook can and could be applied to any social setting. Be it online, private, public, face to face, ect.

Your point about obligation in terms of platform scale is something I've also noticed and have been dabbling about raising. Mostly because you see it a lot with celebrities or public content creators who receive a large following. Its often less that they feel obligated and more than they're usually bullied into it.

For example; I follow a trans (FTM) vlogger on Instagram. His entire online presence is based around being trans and helping to educate people and support people in regards to learning about being transgender, transgender health, his personal transitional journey, ect.

He's got a modest following, nothing ridiculous but I think right now he's sitting at around 75,000 followers.

And as of late, there are random people who don't follow him and aren't at all interested in what he has to say flooding his comment section with things like:

Why didn't you mention anything about Gaza?

All these followers and no shout outs for smaller creators?

What are you doing to raise awareness for X?

All these views could've been used to raise awareness for X.

And its fucking ridiculous. People are pressuring a middle class trans man with 75,000 followers to accept responsibility for counter-responding to a literal war when there are actual celebrities and billionaires with both the actual reach and money to make a difference who simply refuse to because they won't personally benefit from it.

I used to run a really popular fandom blog here on Tumblr. For an actual fandom, not just what I do here and now. It started off small, but I eventually grew it to the point where my follow count was creeping toward 10,000. Which for Tumblr and for a fandom-specific blog was not at all insignificant.

And the moment my notes count started going up, the demands started flooding in. People expecting me to reblog their donation links, demanding I share their friend's aid post, asking why I wasn't reblogging awareness posts or donation drives, ect.

Its largely because its easier to harass accessible people over it than it is to harass someone like Kim Kardashian, but its also because again: we have such a skewed understanding of what is actually effective in terms of activism and circulation of information.

Most of it comes down to shaming people and trying to assert that they're a bad person for having the privilege and benefits of a large following but not doing anything for other people or to 'deserve' that following. They're 'a bad person' for having 75,000 people's attention and not using it to force them to be aware of X.

A good example of proper audience targeting and activism is the page We Rate Dogs.

We Rate Dogs will share awareness posts and donation drives.

About dogs.

Because their followers are there for the dogs. Their followers like dogs. They want to enjoy dog content and help dogs.

If they started sharing posts about war and death and rape, the people who are following them to see cute dog videos will simply unfollow them.

They're using their targeted platform properly.

[0chemicalwaste0]

We Will Meet Again

(Haldir x reader)

-Part 1-

request thanks to the lovely @SierraSama from Wattpad. Anyway this is her request and enjoy. "Could you possibly do a Haldir imagine in which the reader is injured when she arrives in Lóthorien with the fellowship and he helps her back on her feet?"

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 951

'So help me if we live to see another day I'm going to kill Mithrandir.' I thought to myself. Why? You may ask, well I, along with the Fellowship, were currently in Moria in a bit of a conundrum. You see my friends and I were having to run for our lives away from thousands upon thousands of goblins. Not to mention the fact we had to escape from a Balrog as well. Gimli had thought it would have been a wonderful idea to traverse through the abandoned mines. A few loud noises later; curtsy of Pippin, the group and I were dashing through the old halls to the nearest exit as quick as possible. And at the current moment, I was holding up the rear of the group to make sure none of the hobbits were left behind and to let some steam off while shooting goblins in the head with my arrows. And I'm not guilty to say I imagined their heads to be Gandalf's. Then running across a narrow bridge with Gandalf staying behind to make sure everyone makes it safely across, the Balrog made his appearance. For the first time in my immortal life I saw Mithrandir afraid for his life and ours. He started to make his way over to the center of the bridge. Raising his sword and staff saying " You shall not pass!" Then slamming the butt of his staff to the ground braking the bridge beneath the beast. We let out a sigh of relief too soon, because a fiery whip rapped itself around Gandalf's leg and pulled him until only his head and arms were visible over the edge of the broken bridge. Looking to us with sadness and slight fear, "Fly you fools," was his last words before releasing his grip and falling to the chasm below. I screamed in heartbreak along with Frodo, standing there in disbelief of losing a close friend and a father figure to Frodo. Boromir grabbed Frodo and slowly walked backwards with a sword in hand to protect him and himself. Looking in my direction Boromir yelled. " (Y/N)! We need to go!" I broke out of my stupor and made my way to the exit, but before I could make it fully through I felt a sharp pain in my right side from the back. I looked down to see a poorly made arrow stuck in my flesh. Standing behind the wall separating the orcs from their target to pull the arrow out. I looked at the tip of the arrowhead to see a dark substance. 'Poison.' I thought to myself then throwing the object to the side. I tore a piece of my tunic underneath my cloak and rapped it over my wound. Making sure that it was out of sight I ran out of the Mines to finally feel the sun on my (S/C) skin and feel a light breeze ruffle my (H/L), (H/C)hair. For a moment I felt better until reality set in. 'Mithrandir is gone.' I told myself. I look at the others and realized they knew this too. I felt a signal tear run down my face and drop to the ground below.

We had been traveling for about half a day and I could feel myself losing strength quickly. Everything was fuzzy around the edges of my vision, I could feel vertigo starting to set in. I could hear Gimli talking to the hobbits ahead of me but it was muffled by the sound of blood pumping in my sensitive ears. Suddenly the Fellowship had stopped. I looked up and tried to focus my sight. That's when I saw him. He looked like he was one of the Valar descending from the halls of Mandos. He was beautiful in my eyes. Perfect blonde hair in warrior braids running down to his shoulders. I thought I was dreaming, but to soon was I pulled from my revery. I felt a sharp pain over the flesh that was pierced by that foul arrow. Everyone looked to me in confusion and worry once I opened my cloak to look at my wound only to see that blood coated most of my right side. Dark spots started to set in when the blonde elf walked over to me with concern in his baby blue eyes. I realized he was speaking to me, but I could not hear him. Then I felt myself lose balance and start to fall, but before I could hit the hard ground beneath me the elf caught me and was yelling to his men and to the Fellowship asking what happened. They didn't know because I didn't tell them. I wouldn't want them to worry. Soon an elf brought a horse over to us, the beautiful blue eyed elf lifted me up bridal style, put me on the horse, and hopped on behind me. He pulled me in to his chest so I didn't put strain on my wound or fall. While one hand carefully slid around my waist and the other grabbed the rains of the horse. Then every thing fell into darkness with my head leaned into the chest of my savior. I hoped I would live long enough to know his name.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Explaining fandoms I’m not in, but I have seen on my dash from the mutuals (to the best of my knowledge based on their posts):

Why? Because I thought it would be fun and entertaining and I hope I’m not wrong.

The Magnus Archives (TMA)- a group of people document creepy and supernatural events while they slowly one by one discover either that they are the monsters/possessed by them, or that they are being taken in by the monsters, or that their coworkers are the monsters, or that they themselves are possibly friends with or dating the monsters, or that they have been working for the monsters (or bad guys) the entire time. Many of the villains seem to be demented or possessed life sized toys and clowns or eyeballs. This podcast has so many episodes, and I see so many posts about it, but these seem to be the common themes.

Miraculous Ladybug- actually haven’t seen this one on my dash in a long time, but when I first did, despite appearing like a straightforward kids fandom, the shipping discourse confused the heck out of me. But if I have this right, based on the posts from my younger followers, two teenagers are animal themed superheroes who are dating each other and also have crushes on each other, but they don’t know they are dating each other, because they don’t know each others secret identities, because… okay, I still honestly have no idea why. There are ~5K posts about this apparently very central and specific plot line, but not one explains why they don’t just tell each other who they are??? Anything for the plot, I guess. Apparently this has been going on for a long time to the point where even the show’s target audience of children is confused as to how these teenagers and grown adults haven’t put the pieces together as to who everyone’s secret identity is.

Keeper of the Lost Cities (KOTLC)- there’s a girl named Sophie. She is an elf in a love triangle with Keefe and some other guy (I think his name is Fritz). Keefe’s parents are terrible, especially his mom. Sophie has horse DNA (I don’t know if that post was a joke or not sorry if that’s wrong). There’s an elf with fire powers. Elves read minds. There’s a group called the black swan who are the good guys, I think. Also I think the elves and humans are at war. I know Keefe’s parents are trash, does Sophie have parents? From what I can tell, she grows up believing she’s a human but then surprise! She’s an elf and the chosen one, and elves are possibly immortal? Wait, maybe Sophie’s a half elf. Is that a thing?

Spy x Family - two people are fake dating each other for spy reasons but eventually fall in love for real. The twist is, they each think the other is a normal civilian who doesn’t know about the fake relationship (which is kinda messed up to make someone fall in love with you for a fake cover but if they’re also doing the same to you that’s karma I guess) but I think it might end up ok, because they fall in love for real (Aw) but possibly also not okay, because I also think it might be revealed that they’ve been working for enemy sides this whole time (drama). Also the adopted daughter is a mind reader who knows everything but chooses to keep what she knows secret for the plot. Respect. And I recently saw something about the family having a super powered dog? Is he real?

The Murderbot Diaries - a bunch of robots are created for one purpose: murder. But when their murder programming goes haywire, they discover that they might have more in common with the humans they’ve been assigned to kill than they originally thought. Or that they have more humanity inside themselves than they thought… or maybe that the people who created them have more evil intentions than… well in hindsight, “the people who build the murder robots are evil!” seems like an obvious plot twist, but maybe they’re more morally complex or had decent intentions and just never intended for it to go this far… or maybe the robots get hacked or decide maybe they don’t want to be murder bots anymore which brings us back to free will. Interesting philosophical questions, but I think the robots might be getting into some wacky shenanigans as well. Also they apparently have diaries. I get that a diary is just like… a log of what they’re doing, but that won’t stop me from imaging a big scary robot with a little pink glitter pen writing “Dear Diary, I killed three people today. I still see their faces when I try to power off at night. When I go into sleep mode, I dream of their faces. I begin to wonder things, like whether they had families, dreams, or ambitions. I also wonder what they felt in their final moments. I fear this means I am developing a conscience and desire to turn against my programming and the creators. But probably nothing a little update and restart can’t fix. I’ll keep you updated, dairy. XOXO, Murderbot 💕” So. How did I do? Scale of 1-10, with 10 being “you nailed it!” and 1 being “None of this is remotely close. What posts have you been looking at?”

[xxladyballadxx]

Reunited

Richter Belmont x f! reader

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Summary: Richter never thought he would see his long lost childhood friend, (Y/n) (L/n). When they were both children, the two of them got separated during the invasion in London. An army of vampires attacked the city, the war tore the two apart from each other.

Nine years later, he bumped into someone he knew from his past...

Note: Nothing to do with the events from the story. This is something I unexpectedly came up with. If you don't like this, don't read it then.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Richter scouted ahead with Maria and the revolutionary group, checking to see if there were any vampires to hunt down. They summoned their weapons when a band of vampires with a human girl ambushed them. A few children were being held captives by them. Richter and Maria wondered why they have that bruised human girl dressed in ruins with them, why her hands have been chained. Ashes of black and small pale bruises were noticed on her face. The commander of the vampire clan grasps one of the children roughly, the poor woman watches in horror as he swiftly places the blade close to the child’s neck threatening her if she doesn’t transform into her elemental goddess form. The woman had no energy to do so since she was in her weakened condition during her fight against people that she had been forced to kill. The prisoner had the chains off her hands, she grunted after being kicked in the back, her body slammed the ground. “Transform or else those children will die!”

(Y/n) coughed, her head held up. The vampire threw a rapier sword towards her, “If you can’t transform! Then you will have to fight them with steel!” 

And so in order to protect the children, she obeyed him. The girl slides her hand to reach the hilt of the rapier sword. She rises from the dirt, readying herself to fight the target, “Let my life come to an end…”

Richter crashes through the vampires and faces towards the girl. The prisoner twirls in the air and begins her attack on him. “Shit!” The Belmont evaded and dashed to the side. The two fought against each other as Maria and the revolutionary group focused on killing the vampires coming their way.

“No more….NO MORE!” The prisoner cried, switching from fire to using wind magic. She blasts the Belmont away and tries to pierce her sword through him.

Richter dodged, lashing his whip at her. “Ugh!” The girl grunted, elicited the hit from his whip. She shot the ice cold spikes aiming towards him. “Disappear!” The girl shouted, her voice hinting of pain. Richter could tell that she had been forced to do this, seeing the suffering in her sorrowful eyes.

 As the girl spun up in the air, striking towards him. Richter unsheathed his sword and blocked her attack quickly, their blades clicking together, “For fuck’s sake!” 

With his sword being pressed on by hers, Richter looked deeply into the girl’s face, her eyes and everything. Memories of his only childhood friend flooded in his mind. 

It was her…

It was (Y/n)….his long lost childhood friend.

Before Richter could call out to her, Maria summoned her magical glowing birds to move (Y/n) away in a distance. “Maria, wait! Don’t hurt her!” Richter sticks out his hand, giving her a sign to not harm (Y/n). Too late, Maria summoned her turtle close to (Y/n), knocking her out as she dropped to the grass , “Finally, I can be at peace…” she mumbled her final words as if she was about to die.  (Y/n) shut her eyes slowly, her consciousness fading after being hit by that summoned turtle.

“(Y/n)!” Richter dropped to his knees, carrying (Y/n) in his strong arms. Maria rushed off to see Richter holding the girl in her arms, “Richter, why are you-“ 

“I fucking told you not to hurt her!” Richter shouted, his hand caressing (Y/n)’s cheek. He was too focused on her. A single tear dropped down the girl’s face, her unconscious face tilted to the side. 

“Richter…” Maria walked closer to take a glance at (Y/n), “do you know this girl?” 

Richter embraced (Y/n) close to him, her head resting on his chest, “I do.” He stands up to carry her in his arms, his blue ocean eyes showing a spiral of sadness, “We were friends ever since childhood. She was the only friend I had since we were both children.” 

“You two seem pretty close…” Says Maria, feeling apologetic for harming the girl. The group came back with the children they saved, they asked Maria what to do with them since they have no one or nowhere to go to. The group were being told to take care of them for a while till they find them a home to go to. 

Richter held unconscious (Y/n) close, carrying her as he headed straight home with Maria, “(Y/n)...” he mumbled her name in a soft , sad-concerning face looking down at her. 

~~~~~𖤓~~~~~

After (Y/n) was saved by Richter and Maria, Tera laid her to rest in the extra room upstairs. Nursing her back to health, doing everything she can to wake up Richter’s dear lost friend. 

Richter couldn’t believe his own eyes after fighting (Y/n) without even realizing it was his dear friend from his past. When the vampires attacked London nine years ago, he assumed that (Y/n) was killed during the attack. 

How come she’s here? In France?

How did she survive?

Where did she get those strange powers from?

A few days have passed, (Y/n) hasn’t woken up yet. Richter checked up on her a few times, growing concerned for his childhood friend. He begged her to wake up. Her eyes remained closed.

One night, while Tera and Maria were sleeping, Richter headed off to the room where (Y/n) was resting, he pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. Just sitting there, watching an unmoving (Y/n) sleeping to the window. A moon shone through the glass pane, its radiant light shimmering on (Y/n)’s resting face.

Richter smiled softly, admiring how beautiful she is. Grown into a fine young lady. He reached his hand out to hers, his thumb rubbing her knuckles in gentle circles.

“Please wake up, (Y/n)...” he murmured, wanting her to open her eyes…

…Still her eyes stayed closed

~~~~~𖤓~~~~~

The very next day, Richter and Maria came back from the revolutionary meeting. Talking about a bunch of politics that bore the hell out of Richter while he sat by the tree, pretending like he was listening. 

Tera came rushing down the stairs, “Richter!” She called out his name, walking towards him as she began to tell him the good news, “Your dear friend, (Y/n)...she’s finally awake!”

Richter was clouded with shock after hearing this. Maria huffed in annoyance, giving him a smack on the back and yelled, “Well, what are you waiting for?! Go to her, you stupid fool!” 

“R-right!” Tera moved out of the way as Richter jogged upstairs, rushing off desperately just to finally see her. He swung open the door and saw a conscious (Y/n) sitting at the side of the bed, looking through the window. 

“(Y/n)?” Richter made her turn around when he said her name loud and clear. (Y/n) set her eyes on him, her face fell into shock, “R-Richter?!” She rose up, looking deeply into his blue eyes. (Y/n) took a moment to finally recognise him, a few drops of tears flowing into her eyes, “It’s you…it really is you!” 

Richter smiled softly, relieved to see his very dear friend, “It is. After nine years, I…I thought you were dead. (Y/n), I…” he lost the words to say to her after not seeing her for so long, assuming that she was killed by the vampires in London. 

“I thought I would never see you again, Richter…” (Y/n) sobbed tearfully, she never dreamt this day seeing him again. Richter pulled her into his arms, his hand placed on her head while the other on the back. 

“We will never lose each other again…as long as we stay together..”

||Here’s a second part to this!||

↳ To Love and To Cherish

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

(A/n) - I really don't know whether to like this or not. I kinda rushed it. Well, hope you all like this though!

UNTIL NEXT TIME 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

[midnigtartist]

Writing scenes I’m to lazy to draw. Enjoy

“And what is kith'rak?”

Dotty bounds along at Lae’zel heel not unlike a pup chasing an offered treat, clinging to their githyanki friends every word as shes barraged with questions. Quite honestly her pursuit of knowledge is not only commendable but shared. A rare opportunity, to interview a denizen of the Astral Sea, Gale is itching to ask her a thousand questions of his own.

For her, decidedly, prickly nature Lae’zel seems to take the teifings hounding in stride. “Dragons knights in service of our Queen. You saw them as my kin pursed the ghaik ship. To wield a kith'rak’s silver sword is my life’s purpose.”

Dotty nods along eagerly with her explanation, swaying up into Lae’zel space to slip her arm around the other’s. Its hardly been a few hours in each other’s company and both Shadowheartand himself have already been on the receiving end of that particular motion. With Gale’s arm lock firmly in her grasp, deceptively firm grip. He’s not yet sure if she’s just the tactile type or merely unsteady on her feet, though he’d wager its the former. Regardless, the hand on her bicep causes Lae’zel to jerk swiftly away.

Her head cocks sharply to one side. “Do you intend to grapple me, istik?” She snaps.

Dotty cocks her head back in confusion. “Have you never walked arm in arm with someone before?”

“Why would you wish impede your target in such an inefficient way? Twisting the arm behind the back would be a much sounder tactic”

“Oh no its not fighting thing.” Dotty explains. “Its a polite thing. For when you’re walking with a lady. You link arms so you can walk and chat. You know like, with friends. Or a sweetheart.”

Lae’zel fixes her with a look as steely as the blade at her back. Dotty sighs.

“I think I might be explaining this poorly,, maybe it would just be easier to show you” she casts her gaze around for a moment before it settles on him at the rear. “Gale dear, you’re gentlemanly enough. Come help me show Lae’zel what I mean”

Her smile drips with a laugh the seems constantly at risk of spilling over, despite their bleak circumstances. His own lips quirk up at the absurdity of the, well, demand more then request.

“Had you told me, as I was plummeting from a mind flayers ship at terminal velocity, almost certain to face me premature doom dashed across a cliffside, that I would later be giving etiquette lessons to a githyanki, I cannot fathom my response.” But strange needs in strange times. He takes a step forward, inclining his head slightly as he does. “Consider me at your disposal.”

“Really?” Shadowheart cuts in, tone both bewildered and annoyed. “We’re going to waste precious time on this?”

Dotty dismisses the question with a sharp flick of the wrist. “Hush. It’s important for Lae’zel to learn this um, “custom”. That was the word, yes? Custom?”

She talks with her hands, he’s noticed All graceful rolling of her wrists and delicately poised fingers. Gale wonders if she’s undertaken any arcane training. Certainly her sharp and guilefully motions would lend themselves to weave manipulation.

“Now Lae’zel-“ Dotty turns her attention back to the stone faced warrior. “When you’re walking with a lady, it’s expected that the gentleman offer his arm like so-“

His cue. Gale straightens his back and offers the crook of his elbow with, perhaps a bit more flourish then conceivably needed, but then, what’s a demonstration with out a bit of flare? Its seems to delight Dotty, if nothing else, for him to play the part so readily.

She clasps her hands over her chest. “Perfect! Yes exactly like that. And then the lady would position herself like this-“

She steps lightly up to his side, resting well manicured talons in the crook of his elbow. “And then you walk like this.”

He follows her lead as she guilds them a handful steps towards Lae’zel, her other hand coming to rest on his bicep as the walk in measured, almost swaying steps.

“You see? It’s easy. In this case you would be the gentleman and I would be the lady but we can switch if you want. I don’t mind.” She adds.

“Enough.” Lae’zel rolls her eyes “If I allow you to cling to me will you cease with this with pointless explanation?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then.” Despite her sharp tone, she looks a tad embarrassed as she offers up a limp elbow.

Dotty bounces on the balls of her feet, giving Gale’s arm one quick squeeze before skipping over and linking her arm with Lae’zel instead, hand curling up to hold her at the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

Ok, omg i want to request scott summers x reader headcanons where they are best friends, but they have one of thoes “ two characters who have to kiss for a mission” and it completely changes the way they see each other. Both realize they have been in love with each other the whole time.

Unexpected turn

Scott Summers and you had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. Your bond was strong, built on years of shared experiences and mutual respect. But when a high-stakes mission required you both to go undercover and pretend to be a couple, things took an unexpected turn.

The mission was critical: you had to infiltrate an event and gather information from a high-profile target. The only way to maintain your cover was to convincingly portray a couple deeply in love. It was a bit out of your comfort zone, but you trusted Scott completely.

As you both prepared for the mission, you practiced the cover story and, more awkwardly, the necessary display of affection. Scott, always the professional, approached it with his usual seriousness. You, however, couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervous excitement at the thought of being so close to him.

The evening of the mission arrived. You were dressed in elegant attire, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nerves. Scott looked equally dashing, his usual stoic expression softened by a hint of nervousness. You both made your way to the event, the room filled with elegant decorations and a sea of well-dressed guests.

The moment came when you were required to share a kiss in front of the target. As you leaned in, your heart pounded in your chest. The kiss was supposed to be a simple, staged act, but as your lips met Scott’s, something unexpected happened. The kiss lingered, and you felt a spark that neither of you had anticipated.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes meeting with a new intensity. The mission continued, but the kiss had shifted something between you. The ease and camaraderie you had always shared were now tinged with an undercurrent of something deeper.

After the mission, you both returned to the mansion, the usual casual banter now tinged with a newfound awkwardness. You tried to act normally, but the memory of the kiss lingered in both your minds.

Scott, usually composed, found himself struggling with his emotions. He had always admired you, but the kiss had made him realize how deep his feelings went. He couldn’t ignore the warmth and connection he felt, and it was clear that you were feeling the same way.

One evening, as you were both sitting in the common room, Scott finally broke the silence. “Hey, we need to talk about what happened during the mission.”

You looked up, your heart sinking slightly. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

Scott took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and hope. “I didn’t expect that kiss to mean anything more than just an act. But now… I can’t ignore that it felt real. I’ve been feeling something for you for a long time, and I think that kiss just made me realize how much I care about you.”

You felt a rush of relief and joy at his confession. “I’ve been feeling the same way. I’ve always been in love with you, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. That kiss just made everything clear.”

Scott’s face softened with a genuine smile. “I’m glad you feel that way. I don’t want to hide my feelings anymore. I want us to be more than just friends if you’re willing to give it a chance.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that. I’ve been hoping for this for a long time.”

Scott reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Then let’s take this step together. We’ll figure things out as we go.”

As you both embraced, the weight of unspoken feelings lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of possibility. The kiss had changed everything, but it had also brought you both closer together. With Scott by your side, you knew that the journey ahead, whatever it might hold, would be filled with love and understanding.

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part II, Chapters 7-8:

35 Portland Row is such a perfect home base. An urban Hobbit Hole. Magician’s nephew townhouse. Familiar and homey, yet exiting and unusual. Just the right amount of familiar and unfamiliar things that would appeal to a kid. The tantalizing fantasy of independence mixed with the fear of the outside world that the young target audience first starts to comprehend at that age. The dream of living with your crush and all your friends, eating donuts for breakfast, staying up to all hours of the night, being dashing, running things, having swords, being better at something than the adults who are an arbitrary force you put on a façade and appease and try to get rid of as soon as possible. Your challenge being comprehending mortality, coming to terms that death is a part of life and can happen to anyone around you, even your most loved ones. And your enemy being corrupt adults who run corporations that already traded your future, all your hopes and dreams, all your potential for just a bit more money, prestige, life they desire. It says something that a book for a modern teenager is one about kids just trying to survive in a world adults ruined and how difficult it is to keep a place of your own and your integrity safe and in one piece.

Miscellaneous:

It's sweet that Lockwood sees Portland Row as being not just "his" but belonging to anyone who is part of the agency. This is his home, legally he is the sole owner of it, but he views the house as Lucy's and George's in equal measure because they are part of Lockwood and Co. He opens his home to people not in the manner of a landlord (we don't really ever find out if he charges Geroge or Lucy any rent, I suspect he doesn't although informally they all probably pitch in on maintenance). What I love about Lockwood is he's such a paradox, he's extremely inviting and yet intensely closed off. He both opens his home to friends and craves a family and is also deeply emotionally stunted and detached.

George has lived with Lockwood for only maybe a year or so and the agency has only been registered three months and yet he gives off such intense "Elizabeth from Accounts Payable whose been with the company for twenty years and has weathered every kind of bullshit and is counting down to retirement" vibes like, Sir, how do you sound so 50 at 15?

Lockwood is so funny because one moment he's actually being a good boss and agency head – conducting good interviews, watching for emotional responses, making background checks on potential hires, giving a tour to new employee where he firmly but politely draws boundaries - and then the next moment he's absolutely peacocking to a cute girl like "look, look, I'm also powerful and a big deal!"

I also think it's funny that Lockwood strikes out with Lucy a lot more from the beginning then we realize. Lucy is traumatized, emotionally immature and has not been socialized properly. Her self-confidence has been worn away by her "prettiness is not your job" mother and having to be the breadwinner for her family so early in life. There are these moments early on where someone more adept at flirting would have picked up on Lockwood being a showoff and maybe played with it, but bless her she's 13 going on 14 here, literally no one can flirt at that age so she's just incapable of seeing what is going on or give it any time of day. It's no wonder that it takes them literal years to get anywhere.

Also, who let Lockwood keep that watch? no one right? He stole it. He told the cops there's a shitload of death glows in a garden and they probably brought him along to raid the home of a serial killer to help look evidence or whatever and there was a watch lying around and Lockwood was like “ooooooh for my murder scrapbook!” and swiped it.

The mention of an uncle early on is such a clever thing because it’s relevant to the plot during the interview to show how sensitive Lucy really is, but it’s also a red herring. When George mentions Lockwood losing his parents young and him being “in care” of some relative, the reader immediately thinks "ah yes, that must have been that nice uncle!" It lets us assume that whatever mystery there is about the room it must be about his parents. It's why the reveal at the end of Whispering Skull is such a surprise and shows just how little we know about him.

Yea she's gone.

It took less than a week for her to go from describing Lockwood as looking like "a priest on a toilet" to this teenage horniness. My disaster crush in Gr.7 had about the same trajectory. Also reminds me of Mei's completely realistically portrayed crush on Some Convenience Store Guy in "Turning Red". Flips on like a switch and before you know it, you're doodling the most mortifying thing ever conceived my man. 13 is such a cursed age, my god.

I’ve mentioned this before in a post, but Lucy lashes out at people for things she hates about herself. Her internal gripes about Geroge are not that he’s rude (even though he definitely is to her) she’s not mean about him being objectively less Talented then her, she’s never makes fun of him for being smarter or better educated than she is. Lucy can handle outright hostility pretty well and she’s not self-conscious about her talent or lack of education. But she is, I think, deeply insecure about her appearance. And like so many girls her age it’s the chink in her armor she knows to hide and wallpaper over with dismissal and disdain. She pretends she doesn’t care but she does, and the more her feelings for Lockwood grow the more it shows in how she talks about herself and how she talks about others.

Sometimes you’re reading a book and oooh there’s a romance subplot and A falls for B (often instead of C or D) and you think … but why? why is A in love with B actually? What is it about them that makes the attraction click? But with Lucy it’s so obvious why she is almost immediately taken with Lockwood, but also why she doesn’t realize it. From Lucy’s POV, for all his flaws Lockwood is the opposite of what Jacobs was. He enters with the teams and he’s the last to leave (he even jumps out the burning building last). She doesn’t feel alone and unsupported. He takes accountability for any error on the case, easily and without any shifting of blame. Sure he’s vainglorious and a bit irresponsible and impulsive and all that. He’s 14-15 at most - that’s normal enough and she’s a kid like him, she gets it. But Lockwood is also a kid burdened with a lot of responsibly and I think Lucy is in a unique position to appreciate this and admire him for taking it on as he does. And that admiration neatly tricks her into thinking that’s all there is to her feelings for a long, long time because she can’t tell her feels apart worth a damn.

I’m going to start a Lucy describes Lockwood’s smile count: 6

[storyofmychoices]

Neon Glow

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist] 

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Book: Open Heart Word Count: ~ 600 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings

Synopsis: Bryce and Olivia enjoy some fun during laser tag with their friends.

This absolutely gorgeous art of my beloved Bryce and Olivia is by the incredible and lovely @callmebeem. I've been holding onto it for a bit so I'm glad I could finally share it! 💙💖🩵

Olivia took care with every step, analyzing the chaos surrounding her to inform her next move. She wasn't one to take big risks that resulted in glorious eliminations. No, Olivia's game was more subtle than that: stealth and strategy. It was her only chance to survive this. 

His silhouette illuminated by the pulsing lights pulled her from her thoughts. Olivia clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter as she turned a corner to find Bryce dramatically flipping over blocks and obstacles in the maze for no purpose other than his own enjoyment. Her heart swelled at the sight. Yet, she didn't have time to dwell on him as footsteps padded closer behind her. She tucked down an alley, hiding behind a pillar, narrowly avoiding Jackie who was on the hunt for her next victim. 

Olivia peeked around the structure once she heard Jackie pass by. Lifting the plastic gun in her arms, she pulled the trigger, sending a light beam straight at the back of her vest. 

"What the — Lahela, was that you?! I'm going to get you for this," Jackie hollered, turning back to see who had tagged her, but Olivia had already slipped quietly away, already settled on where to go next.

Bryce's eyes widened as an arm shot out of the darkness, tugging him into the shadows. "What're you doing?" The words tumbled from his lips.

Before he could finish the thought, Olivia backed him into a corner, hidden from view from those dashing past, looking for a new target. Her body pressed against his, her arms snaking around his neck, pulling his lips toward hers, kissing him hungrily.

His brow quirked up at the sudden public affection. It's not what he expected, but he'd never turn down the taste of her lips.

Neon laser beams cut through the dimly lit, fog-filled room. The flashes of light illuminated the indoor maze surrounding them. Their friends' laughter and assured taunts bounced off the barriers and partitions as they dashed through the space, no wiser to the couple hidden in the recesses. 

"Not that I mind," Bryce breathed between kisses, not wanting to part. "What's gotten into you?"

"What can I say?" Olivia tipped her head back, letting the blue glow of a light passing by illuminate her face. She chewed the corner of her lower lip, her fingers dancing over the vest across his chest. "This look is working for you." 

"I couldn't agree more." Bryce tossed his head to the side, flipping his hair back. "Do you think they'll let me wear it in the O.R. after I become Edenbrook's Laser Tag Champion?"

"I don't think that's a thing..."

"Yet!" 

"If you say so... now, where were we?" Olivia grabbed his collar, guiding him once more back to her lips. The pair hummed in satisfaction as the brilliant glow of the neon world around them faded into the background. 

His hands settled on her waist before drifting lower, squeezing her curves as the kiss became more heated. 

Olivia raked her hands down Bryce's chest. Her eyes flickered open, checking to confirm she had him where she wanted him. With a swift movement, she pressed her gun against the target on his vest. "Gotcha," she breathed against his parted lips as she pulled the trigger. 

His vest vibrated, signaling a fatal hit. "I can't believe you used me like that!" His mouth fell agape before pulling into a widened grin. "I'm so proud of you!" He lifted her into his arms, kissing her again as he spun her around before lowering her back down again. 

Her face warmed as she tried to recompose herself. 

"Now, go get 'em, tiger!" He playfully tapped her butt. 

Olivia turned back, stealing one last look. She blew him a kiss and snuck back into the shadows, waiting for her next opportunity. 

A/N: Not edited...This has been a WIP for over 2 years. 🙈 There really is no reason or excuse for it, but here we are... I'm hoping if I can get through a few old wip my brain will let me create something new again.