#in a day or two. get ready pals

[batsandbirdbrains]

Ok Dick biting Hal as a kid has got to be one of my favorite headcanons of all time. Like atp it IS canon to me. But now I’m imagining Dick biting all the members of the JL at least once because they’ve done something that’s either pissed him off, or pissed Bruce off. Hal is obviously bitten first and everyone thinks he’s exaggerating or being a big baby about how much it hurts. Then Clark gets bitten because Bruce got hurt on a JL mission where Clark was supposed to be watching his back. And to be fair, Dick growled at him before he bit, which was far more warning than Hal had received. When Dick sinks his teeth - some of which are still baby teeth - into Clark’s meaty, Kryptonian arm, it shouldn’t hurt. But somehow Clark is tearing up as he lets out a pained howl. It takes both Aquaman and the Flash to remove Dick. Clark doesn’t use that arm for two days, wincing every time he jostles it. How and why Dick bites the others is up for interpretation. Eventually, once all of them have been bitten, they call a meeting about it. Not to get him to stop or anything, just to figure out why it hurts so fucking much. They’re all throwing out various theories when someone says “No seriously, what hell does that kid put into his bites?” when Dick emerges from the shadows and says, deadpan, “Vengeance.” before cackling evilly and disappearing. They all shudder before deciding to never piss him off or talk about his biting ever again.

Also now I’m kind of imagining Dick and Slade fighting for the first time when Dick is just a little gremlin and Slade is like “pffft as if this fourth grader could beat me” only to panic when said fourth grader sinks his teeth into him so hard that he still has the scar years later.

I'm imagining Bruce seeing how Dick's go-to attack is to bite people, and he immediately makes a specialized mouth guard for him. It perfectly molds to his teeth, but it's extra sharp and leaves a different imprint than Dick's actual bite. Mostly so no one can compare dental records or anything to the scars that Dick will no doubt leave on many, many people. It has to be updated regularly when Dick is still young because of him losing his baby teeth.

The first time Dick bites Superman is because he brought Batman back to the Batcave in terrible shape. They'd been on a mission together, it was supposed to be quick, easy, no big deal. And now Dr. Leslie and Alfred are working on him in the Batcave medbay, and Dick just turns to Superman with tears and rage in his eyes. And he launches himself at him and attacks.

Clark yelps as soon as he realizes ouch, he can feel that! What the hell!

"Dick! Dick, let go!"

"You promised you'd bring him back home safe!" Dick cries, but his words are muffled, his teeth still sinking into Clark's arm. "He got hurt!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Clark says quickly. "But he's going to be fine, Dickie, it's mostly just a broken arm and a concussion!"

Dick is growling and hanging off Clark's arm, until Alfred comes out and announces that Bruce is ready to for visitors. Dick unlatches quickly, then scampers over to Alfred, still sniffling. As soon as he catches sight of Bruce, he starts whining and crying and cuddles next to him on the bed.

Clark never makes fun of Hal for the ankle guards again. Dick really does have crazy sharp teeth. Clark's arm is bruised for days around the puncture marks, and he's left with a scar on his arm in the shape of Dick's mouth.

A few months later, Dick has started hanging out with Garth a lot. They become pals. Very good friends. Best friends, almost.

And Garth hangs out with him one day and looks so glum and down in the dumps and says how Aquaman was mean to him during training, but it's okay, it was Garth's own fault. That doesn't sit well with Dick. No one makes his friends upset and gets away with it.

The next time Dick accompanies Bruce to the Watchtower, Dick locks in on Aquaman and chomps right on his arm. Like eating a fish stick. Aquaman yelps and tries to pry him off, asking him what happened and what's wrong and why the hell is Robin biting him?

"Don't be mean to my friends!" is all Dick says before he stomps off to go back to Batman's side. Before he reaches Batman fully, he turns and locks eyes with Aquaman, making that creepy I've got my eye on you gesture. It sends a shiver down Aquaman's spine.

He bites pretty much every other JL member for various reasons between the ages of 8-11. When they eventually call a meeting for it, Batman just stares at all of them with an unimpressed look.

"Perhaps you should try not upsetting him," Batman tells them, then turns on his heel and leaves. Dick, who'd been hiding under Batman's cape, grins at all of them and sends a taunting little wave before the cape covers him up again.

Dick first encounters Deathstroke at the ripe age of nine. During said encounter, Dick is terrified. Deathstroke is talking about wanting to make Dick his apprentice, how he's going to steal him from right under the Bat's nose, and Dick panics.

And he resorts to biting the exposed skin he sees when Deathstroke tries to nab him by his cape.

He damn near bites Deathstroke's hand clean off at the wrist. It startles Slade so bad that he shouts, throws Dick off to the side, and is distracted just long enough for Dick to run away and get back to the Batmobile.

Dick is panting and a little freaked out as he relays the story to Bruce from the safety of the Batmobile as Bruce drives them home. Bruce reaches over and pats Dick's head, his own heart beating so hard in his chest.

"Good job, chum," Bruce says softly. "Use every weapon you have. Always."

Dick nods his head, wrapping his cape tight around him.

[aleese1111]

ong please please please do three wolves, one flame part 2 if you want ofc! I need geum seong je he's so hot in this story (I hope we end up with him)

three wolves, one flame two | geum seong je x union!reader x na baek jin

summary: in a city where stolen phones and bruised egos collide, a tense standoff between two gang members threatens to ignite—but when loyalty, exhaustion, and unexpected tenderness surface, the cracks beneath their rage finally show. as fists unclench and defense fall, they begin to realize that survival might mean learning to lean on each other—even when it hurts.

warnings: [slow burn] violence, language, blood, bruises, mild angst, mutual pining, toxic communication, vulnerable moments, mentions of crime.

author's note: this is getting toxic pal .. making me cry and stuff . requests ,,

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. three ??

the motorcycle garage reeked of sweat, oil, and burnt rubber—the kind of place where tempers sparked easier than engines. a dented workbench sat shoved into one corner, tools scattered across it like a graveyard of failed fixes. the overhead light buzzed with a dying flicker, and the air was thick with heat and fury.

“you’re fucking unbelievable,” she hissed, voice cutting through the space like a scalpel.

seong je stood across from her, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. “don’t start with me...”

“start? i’m not starting shit. i’m finishing what your idiot screwed up.” her voice rose to a full-blown yell. “you let one of your morons walk around with ten stolen phones like we’re not running an actual operation!”

“i didn’t let him do shit!” he shouted back, stepping forward. “he went off script! i told him to stash the haul. he got jumped, not my fucking fault!”

“then whose fault is it? mine?” her eyes burned, teeth grit. “you act like this is some damn street gang, not a business.”

“it is a street gang,” he snapped, voice heavy with sarcasm. “in case you forgot, none of us have fucking degrees or a retirement plan.”

“you know what i mean, seong je. we’re organized. we have rules. and your guy just cost us everything we pulled yesterday.”

“maybe if you weren’t so busy barking orders and being a condescending bitch all the time—”

she was on him in a second, finger jabbing into his chest. “say that again. say it again.”

he caught her wrist, hard enough to make her flinch—but just for a second. “you wanna hit me now? is that what this is?” his voice dropped into something dangerous. “you think i’m scared of you?”

“no,” she spat. “i think you’re scared of being fucking useless. that’s why you’re always trying to swing your dick around. to make up for the fact you keep screwing up.”

something snapped in his eyes—sharp, violent. “keep pushing me. see what happens.”

she didn’t blink. “already did. still nothing.”

they stood there, faces inches apart, rage vibrating between them like a live wire. neither moved. neither gave in. both of them breathing hard, jaws locked.

then, without a word, she yanked her arm free and stormed out of the garage. the door slammed behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.

@ . !

by the time she reached the bowling alley, her throat hurt from yelling. her boots clacked across the sticky floor as she passed the empty lanes, not sparing a glance at the clatter of pins echoing faintly in the distance.

she pushed the office door open without knocking.

baek jin didn’t look up.

“tell me again why we keep seong je around,” she said flatly, tossing herself onto the couch like a stormcloud ready to ruin the day.

baek jin wrote something on his notebook. “he does what you can’t.”

“like lose stolen merchandise?” she snapped, dragging a hand through her hair. “god, he’s insufferable.”

baek jin finally turned, leaning back slightly in his chair, eyeing her with calm indifference. “what happened now?”

“phones,” she groaned. “ten of them. gone. one of his half-brained cronies got rolled. didn’t even stash them properly.” her voice cracked under the weight of exhaustion and rage. “and he blames me for being too uptight.”

“because yelling solves everything,” baek jin muttered, returning to his notebook.

she flopped onto her side, legs draped across the arm of the couch, one arm thrown over her eyes. “he called me a bitch, jin. a condescending one. like he even knows what that word means.”

“probably heard it in a movie.”

she let out a tired laugh—just one breath of amusement. “he looked like he was gonna throw something.”

“you look like you already did.”

she pulled his jacket from the back of the couch and draped it over her legs. “i hate him.”

“you don’t.”

“i do.”

“no, you don’t.”

silence.

then, more quietly: “...he scares me sometimes.”

baek jin didn’t respond right away.

“then don’t fight fire with fire,” he said eventually. “you’ll both burn.”

she stared at the ceiling, lips pressed thin.

and maybe she was burning. maybe she'd been burning for a while.

the minutes ticked by in a slow crawl, thick with that kind of silence only known between two people used to each other’s noise. she had cooled on the outside—no more fire, no more raised voice—but inside, the coals still glowed red. she hadn’t moved from the couch. one leg was curled underneath her, the other bouncing softly as she scribbled something into her notebook.

her phone sat to her right, flipped over. a math worksheet lay to her left, partially filled, and next to it was a half-eaten bag of shrimp chips. baek jin was back at his desk, eyes flicking between his work and the occasional glance at her page whenever she cursed under her breath.

“that one’s wrong,” he murmured.

“i knew it,” she muttered, erasing with unnecessary force. “this whole formula’s stupid.”

“no,” he said, typing lazily, “your distribution is stupid. the formula’s fine.”

“thanks for the confidence boost,” she shot back, but there wasn’t much bite in her tone.

“anytime.”

@ . !

they worked like that for another hour or two—sprawled in silence, occasionally interrupted by the click of a pen, the flick of a page, or a question about variables. it felt weirdly domestic. familiar.

until the office door creaked open.

she didn’t look up. didn’t need to. she knew the weight of that silence the second it walked in.

footsteps. slow. heavy. the scrape of worn sneakers on tile.

then something hit the floor beside her with a loud thud.

a duffle bag.

she looked up.

seong je stood a few feet away, breathing hard. his white school shirt was torn near the collar, buttons misaligned like he’d thrown it back on in a rush. his tie was missing. his lip was split and barely crusted over. blood had dried in a streak down his cheek, and his knuckles were red and raw—some cracked open, others bruised deep violet.

but it was the eyes that made her stop.

not angry. not cocky. not blank, either.

tired. steady.

he didn’t say a word.

she blinked, then glanced down at the bag. the zipper was half open—just enough for her to see the corner of a phone box. then another. and another.

all ten were in there.

baek jin stood up from his desk, slowly walking over. he opened the bag fully and confirmed it, counting silently. “you got them all back?”

seong je didn’t answer. just nodded, once.

“alone?” baek jin asked, quieter this time.

another nod.

baek jin whistled low under his breath, impressed.

she was still looking at him. not speaking. not moving. her hand, still holding a pen, trembled faintly against the edge of her notebook.

he looked at her once. quick. just a flicker. but it was enough.

she turned back to her worksheet without a word.

the room held its breath.

seong je wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and walked toward the couch. he didn’t sit beside her. just near. close enough that she could smell sweat, smoke, and rust on his skin.

he let out a quiet breath and leaned back against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position, legs stretched out, arms resting on his knees. the buzz of the overhead light hummed back into the space between them.

she kept writing.

but she didn’t flip the page again.

after a moment, without looking at him, she reached into her tote bag and fished around. pens, a folded test paper, a lip balm, gum—and then, her hand landed on the small emergency pouch she always carried.

she pulled it out, unzipped it with one hand, and tossed a small box of bandages and antiseptic wipes toward him. it hit his leg with a soft thump.

“try not to bleed out on baek jin’s floor,” she said flatly. “he’s too lazy to mop.”

baek jin snorted from across the room but didn’t comment.

seong je glanced at the box, then up at her. for the first time all day, the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely.

she didn’t look at him.

but her foot shifted slightly in his direction, brushing the edge of his.

and for now, that was enough.

the silence that followed wasn’t tense anymore—just tired.

seong je stayed slumped against the wall for another few minutes, wrapping a few of the bandages around his knuckles with surprising precision. he didn’t speak, and neither did she. eventually, he stood again with a wince and stretched his arms out until his shoulders cracked.

“i’m heading to the pc bang,” he muttered, brushing dust off his wrinkled uniform. “if you’re planning to keep sulking, do it quietly.”

she didn’t reply.

he hesitated at the door, one hand on the knob, glancing back over his shoulder. “...i got the phones back, you know.”

“i noticed.”

“you’re welcome.”

she flipped another page in her workbook. “i already said thanks.”

he rolled his eyes and left.

the door clicked shut behind him, and with it, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

@ . !

the last of the arcade lights flickered off, followed by the clunk of the main door locking shut. the bowling alley was quiet now—emptied out, wiped down, and dark except for the faint blue glow of the vending machine in the corner.

baek jin pocketed the keys with a sigh, shoulders rolling back in the stretch of relief that came after closing time. “we survived another day of screaming kids and gutter balls.”

she slipped on her hoodie, tugging it down to her wrists. “barely.”

“come on. i’m starving.” he nudged her lightly with his elbow. “you ate yet?”

she shook her head. “didn’t have time.”

“perfect. my treat.”

she gave him a sideways look. “your treat is always eight thousand won and spicy as hell.”

“and you always eat it like it’s nothing, so what does that say?”

she rolled her eyes but followed him anyway.

the streets were empty at this hour, just the hum of streetlamps buzzing above and the low whir of a passing bus in the distance. they walked in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing in the narrow alley that led down to the backlot where the tiny tteokbokki joint sat—half hidden behind a metal shutter and marked only by a flickering neon sign that read 분식천국.

inside, it was warm and orange-lit, the kind of place where the plastic stools wobbled and the ajumma behind the counter always gave too much fish cake.

the tteokbokki shop was quieter now, the neon sign flickering softly as the last of the steam drifted from the pan. she poked at her food, her chopsticks moving aimlessly as she avoided looking directly at baek jin. she was still annoyed—still holding that edge—but not as sharp as earlier. it was always this way, after things had settled. tension dissolved, but never fully.

baek jin picked up a piece of soondae without looking at her, his movements smooth, deliberate. he took a bite, chewing slowly, while his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than usual.

“you know,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer than it had been earlier, “you could relax every once in a while.”

she made a face, her chopsticks still hovering above the plate, and shot him a look. “relax? that’s rich coming from you.”

he shrugged, glancing out the small window at the dark alley beyond. the streetlights outside hummed, casting long shadows that filled the empty space between them. then, almost absentmindedly, he reached over and pushed the plate of rice cakes closer to her.

“i’m serious,” he said, quieter this time. “you don’t have to keep everything in motion all the time.”

her fingers tightened around her chopsticks, but she didn’t respond immediately. instead, she stole a glance at him—eyes narrowing just a little, studying him as if trying to read between his words. but he was already looking away, a subtle tilt to his head, like he didn’t mind if she didn’t take the bait.

after a beat, she finally reached for another rice cake. her hand brushed against his casually, just the barest touch, but it was enough to make her pause, fingers still lingering against his. for a second, she almost didn’t pull back, but then she did, almost reflexively, as if she hadn’t meant to stay there.

his eyes flickered to her hand, but he didn’t say anything. he just kept eating, quieter now.

she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the discomfort that crawled up her throat. “i don’t need your advice, baek jin.”

“i didn’t say you did,” he replied, voice laced with something she couldn’t quite place. was it amusement? care? it was hard to tell, but he didn’t seem fazed by her harshness. his gaze was steady, like he was trying to understand her through the quiet.

another beat of silence passed. her foot nudged against his under the table—accidental, probably. but it lingered, her heel against the side of his shoe, the warmth of her body close enough that he could feel the weight of it.

for a moment, neither of them moved. the air between them was thick in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, just... full. heavy with things unsaid.

he cleared his throat quietly, shifting his foot away just enough for the pressure to break. she didn’t pull her foot back, though, and the moment passed without comment.

she didn’t look at him as she pushed the food around again. “you think i’m some kind of... control freak?”

“i think you don’t let people in,” he said quietly, his voice softer now, just a little too honest. “it’s like you’re always holding everything back.”

she froze for a second. his words lingered in the air, like smoke, and she could feel the weight of them, like the air had thickened.

her fingers tightened around her chopsticks, and she looked up at him, but she didn’t say anything for a long time. she wanted to snap back, to tell him he was wrong, but something in his eyes stopped her. maybe it was the way he wasn’t looking at her for a response, but just... waiting.

when she spoke, it was quieter than before. “i don’t need anyone to fix me.”

he gave her a quick, almost imperceptible smile, like he understood more than she wanted him to. “i didn’t say anything about fixing you.”

there was a beat of silence between them, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. it was just... there.

she grabbed the last piece of soondae, eating it in one bite. “i’m done. you?” she asked, her voice a little more like herself again—sharp, biting.

he smiled more openly this time. “you eat like a rat.”

she snorted, setting her chopsticks down with a little too much force. “and you’re a walking mannequin.”

when they stood up to leave, it was a little too quiet, but neither of them said much. she put her jacket on, pulling it over her shoulders with more force than necessary, like it was an armour she didn’t need.

@ . !

as they walked through the dark alley, the hum of the streetlights was the only sound between them, a quiet rhythm in the otherwise empty night. she kept her gaze forward, her hands tucked deep into her pockets, shoulders tense.

but then, that one small gesture—a simple adjustment of her collar—broke through the armor she had been building around herself all evening.

her breath caught for just a second. she hadn’t expected it. not from him. she hadn’t expected him to see her. not in this way.

his fingers barely brushed her skin, and in that moment, she felt the shift. it was like the weight she’d been carrying—unseen, unheard, but always there—just became too much to hold onto.

she didn’t stop walking, but her steps slowed, just for a moment. her heart hammered in her chest, too fast, too loud. the weight of her emotions, the ones she kept buried under layers of sharp words and brittle indifference, started to break free. slowly, quietly, without any warning. she bit her lip hard, the pressure doing nothing to stop the sting rising in her chest.

and then, just like that, she felt it. the quiet crumbling inside her. the tension, the anger, the sadness—all the things she thought she’d put away, forgotten or buried—spilled out in the form of a single, shaky breath.

she didn’t look at him. didn’t react. but something in her shifted.

then, without a word, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

she didn’t wipe it away. she didn’t speak. there was no need to. the weight of the past days, the anger, the fear, the exhaustion—it all sat heavy on her like a stormcloud.

he saw it. he always did.

and without hesitation, without asking or saying anything, he stepped forward and pulled her gently into his arms.

at first she froze, body rigid against him like she didn’t know how to be held. but then—like something inside her finally cracked—she melted forward and buried her face into his shoulder, her hands clutching the sides of his jacket.

that’s when the sobbing started.

not loud. not dramatic. just quiet, broken sounds pressed into his chest, like she was finally letting go of something she'd been carrying alone for far too long.

she was trembling.

he didn’t need her to say anything—he never did. he could feel the way her hands gripped his jacket like it was the only thing keeping her together. the weight of her against him wasn’t heavy, but it pressed into something deeper than he wanted to admit.

he’d seen her like this before. not often. only when everything else slipped.

and each time, it broke something in him he didn’t know had edges.

he didn’t ask what was wrong. he just held her tighter, like maybe if he stayed still enough, long enough, she’d remember she wasn’t alone.

that was enough for him. for now.

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. three ??

[astonmartinii]

max verstappen masterlist

gin and tonic: £22

a classic drink for a classic driver. he's no-nonsense like a gin and tonic and serves an 'actually!' like a true gin and tonic drinker.

drink up...

TEACHER'S PET

based on request: reader as a professor

BABYSITTER DUTY

an emergency meeting at red bull means max finally meets the horner family babysitter and chaos ensues

PLAY DATE

max and his neighbour y/n have a play date for their babies - i mean, their cats.

PEN PALS

after years of being pen pals, y/n finally gets to meet max

STUDY BUG

max's girlfriend is a psychology student and despite wanting to support her boyfriend, the studies come first... right?

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN

college party girl ready and red bull golden boy

TEDDY BEAR

when there's only one person who can bring out the real max

INTO THE ARMS OF ANOTHER

after charles leaves her out in the cold, y/n falls into the arms of another

one - two - three - four

WORLDS BIGGEST FAN

y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?

one - two

BEHIND THE CAMERA

max was never a fan of his media commitments, but there's a reason he perked up in the more recent grill the grid episodes.

WE DON'T PLAY ABOUT HALLOWEEN

max doesn't play about three things: formula one, his cars and his girlfriend's love for halloween

PASSION FOR FASHION

she's everything and he's just ken (in a red bull shirt)

BITE THE HAND

having fans are great, but sometimes it goes too far and you have to bite the hands that feed you

DOING BUSINESS WITH FAMILY

brother and boyfriend in the same sport? nothing has ever gone wrong when doing business with family... right? x hadjar!reader

DAY FIVE: SANTA COMMUNITY SERVICE

max swore in a press conference and now he's a mall santa with an itchy beard

PUT IT ALL ON RED(BULL)

her brother won the race? does she know? does she care? x russell!reader

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU

what he wasn't supposed to fall in love with his bodyguard? this IS a rom com

LITTLE LION

journalists go digging in max's past and think they've found f1's next big scandal - but they underestimate just how protective max is of his little lion

GIRL, SO CONFUSING

will "norstappen" work it out on the remix? x norris!reader

ICE, ICE BABY (LITERALLY)

the ice man may have never spoken, but his daughter never shuts the fuck up x raikkonen!reader

CUTIE PATOOTIES

just them terrorising the world with their cuteness (and collecting the younger drivers)

OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON (SERIES)

y/n y/ln once broke boundaries in formula 1, becoming the first female driver to win a race, but after a career ending injury, the sport she gave everything to turned it’s back on her. with a stacked rookie class for 2025 and an offer to get back into the sport she once loved, will she leave for good or give it one more chance?

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

NOT YOUR BRO

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: y/n decides to use some ‘unusual’ nicknames for her boyfriend, drew, except it drives him insane.

based on this ask !! you come up with the CUTEST requests @xoxosblogsblog so thank you for this :) i hope it’s what you wanted, i tried to make it more of a one-shot than a drabble so i hope it’s okay <3

WARNINGS: just some fluffy goodness, one f bomb, and i believe that’s it !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, its soft jazz playlist creating a relaxed atmosphere as Y/N and the girls browsed racks of clothes. They had spent the morning shopping, arms now laden with glossy bags from Charleston's trendiest stores. Their conversation had drifted from outfit critiques to relationships as they admired a collection of flowy dresses near the dressing rooms.

"I don't know, it's just hard finding someone who actually gets me," Madelyn said with a shrug, running her fingers over the fabric. "You know, someone who doesn't freak out about my schedule."

"You'll find your person," Carlacia assured her. "Trust me, the right guy won't care how busy you are—he'll hype you up for it."

"True," Y/N chimed in. "Drew's my biggest cheerleader. Sometimes it's annoying how supportive he is."

The group laughed, and Madelyn smiled wistfully. "What do you even call Drew? Do you guys do the whole nickname thing?"

"Oh, for sure," Y/N replied, chuckling. "It's usually just 'babe,' but sometimes I call him 'Drewseph' when I'm feeling extra ridiculous."

"Drewseph?" Carlacia snorted, nearly doubling over. "That's incredible."

"I know, right?" Y/N grinned. "But seriously, I think he'd have a heart attack if I called him anything else. He's so used to those two."

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "Like what? What would actually make him freak out?"

"I don't know..." Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Probably something like 'dude' or 'bro.' He'd be so confused."

"Oh my God, you have to try it!" Carlacia said, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"What?" Y/N laughed, glancing between her friends.

"You should totally call him 'buddy,' 'pal,' or 'dude' tonight—just to see what he does," Carlacia suggested, practically bouncing on her heels.

"I don't know..." Y/N hesitated, though her grin betrayed her intrigue.

Madelyn joined in, nudging Y/N with her elbow. "Come on, it'd be hilarious. You know he'd lose his mind in the funniest way."

"I feel like he'd just be super offended," Y/N admitted, laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlacia said. "That's the point! He'll be all pouty and confused, and we'll all die laughing."

"Okay, but you guys better back me up if he gets mad," Y/N warned, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Madelyn promised, crossing her heart.

"Fine, I'll do it," Y/N said, shaking her head with a grin. "But you owe me if this backfires."

"Deal," Carlacia said, holding out her pinky for Y/N to shake.

As the group headed to the checkout counter, their laughter echoed through the boutique. Y/N could already picture Drew's reaction, and she had to admit—it was going to be fun.

—

The warm glow of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Drew and Y/N's spacious Charleston apartment. It was the perfect evening to host the Outer Banks cast for dinner and a game night.

The girls entered the apartment, greeted by the savory aroma of roasted chicken, mac and cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Drew met Y/N at the door, leaning down to kiss her. "How was your day, babe?" he asked, his voice soft and warm.

"Perfect," Y/N replied, grinning. "How about you? Are you a certified chef now?"

"Close," he teased, sliding an arm around her waist. "Go wash up; dinner's almost ready."

The girls exchanged knowing glances behind Drew's back, suppressing their giggles. Carlacia nudged Y/N with a wink. "You better deliver tonight," she whispered.

"Oh, I will," Y/N murmured, smirking.

At the long dining table, everyone was buzzing with conversation as Austin laid down the last plate. Drew, seated next to Y/N, had one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. She eyed the mac and cheese near him and decided it was time to set the plan in motion.

"Hey, can you pass the mac and cheese, please, buddy?" Y/N asked, her voice casual.

Drew froze mid-conversation, his head snapping toward her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at the plate, then back at her. "Uh, sure... babe," he said, emphasizing the word as he slid the dish toward her.

"Thanks, dude," Y/N replied nonchalantly, biting back a grin.

Across the table, Carlacia snorted into her drink, and Madelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Drew's jaw dropped slightly as he turned to her again, a mixture of offense and bewilderment crossing his face.

"Dude?" he repeated under his breath, as if the word left a bad taste.

"Hmm?" Y/N feigned innocence, loading her plate with mac and cheese.

Shaking his head, Drew tried to let it go, but the girls' muffled laughter didn't escape him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't press further—yet.

The dinner continued with more subtle jabs from Y/N. "Hey, pal, can you pass the salt?" she asked later, earning another baffled look from Drew. When he handed it to her, she responded with a cheerful "Thanks, champ!"

By the time they cleared the table and set up for games, Drew was visibly on edge, his lips pursed as he watched Y/N interact with the group.

They were midway through a heated round of charades when Y/N delivered the final blow. "Your turn, bro!" she called to Drew, grinning widely.

That did it. Drew stopped in his tracks, tossing the game card onto the coffee table. "It's babe! Not 'dude,' not 'buddy,' and CERTAINLY not bro!" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in exasperation. His hands flew up in frustration, and he turned to Y/N with wide eyes. "What did I do? Are you mad at me? Why are you calling me that?"

Y/N couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as tears welled in her eyes. Carlacia and Madelyn followed suit, collapsing against each other in hysterics.

Drew's jaw dropped further. "This—this was a joke?" he asked, his voice wavering between relief and indignation.

Y/N wiped her eyes, reaching for him. "Yes, babe, it was a joke. The girls dared me to do it to see how you'd react."

Drew folded his arms, pouting dramatically. "That's mean. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered.

"Aww, come on," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

Drew let out a dramatic sigh but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his face. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"Lucky?" Y/N teased, kissing him again. "You're the lucky one, Drewseph."

The guys, still confused about what had just transpired, looked at each other. "Are we supposed to get it?" Austin whispered to Chase.

"No clue," Chase replied, shaking his head.

The girls' laughter echoed through the apartment as Drew finally cracked, pulling Y/N closer and resting his forehead against hers. "You owe me," he murmured.

"Anything you want, babe," Y/N whispered back, her grin mischievous. "But admit it—you love me even when I call you dude."

Drew groaned, shaking his head. "Don't push it."

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet and silly !! going to get through to some angst requests soon, i feel like i’ve been drowning you all in fluff which is CRAZY because i’m an angst girly at heart🫣 i have enjoyed writing happy drew & rafe so i can’t complain !!

pls send some angst requests pls !! mainly w/ a happy ending :)

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Heavy Hearts

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: an encounter in a quiet Manhattan cafe leads Bucky to an unexpected connection with a kind-hearted waitress. What begins with a moment of protection turns into a day of warmth , and something hopeful between two lonely hearts.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings/Tags: fluffy sweet comfort fic , mentions of verbal harassment to reader from random man , protective bucky , foreign / non American reader , kissing , any grammar mistakes reflects readers struggle and still learning on speaking outside her native tongue , sweet baby alpine featured! just sweetness i have to really be picky with tags lol theres like nothing.

A/N: heyyy 3 of my fics reached 100+ notes (im not crying you are) i have lotsssss of drafts so brb as i finalized the editing and see you on the next one! enjoy bbys as always...

Bucky was never quite sure if walking helped or not. Sometimes it cleared his head. Other times, it just gave his thoughts a wider landscape to echo in. The city was home for him ,  sure, but it was also heavy.

That afternoon , after another long session with Dr. Raynor , he ended up wandering aimlessly through lower Manhattan. She had brought him up ignoring Sam's texts and invites to things , always finding a reason and a way to say no.

The sun was rising just right between the tall buildings , warm on his face despite the chill in the air, and the city buzzed around him , alive, indifferent , but always comforting.

He was passing a small ivy-covered café tucked into the corner of a cobbled side street when he heard a voice , sharp and irritated , slicing through the late afternoon peace.

“C’mon , honey , don’t be like that. Just give me your number.” the voice growled with impure intention.

Bucky stopped , just out of sight behind a crooked iron railing covered in vines. 

The tone was unmistakable. That low , not giving up ,pressure. A man standing too close. A woman’s silence was sharp enough to feel from ten feet away.

Bucky finally decided to step around the corner entering the cafe.

The guy who was harassing was tall , leaning over a meek looking waitress who clutched a tray against her chest like a shield. 

She had wide, watery eyes and a stiff jaw , lips parted like she was trying to find the right words but couldn’t quite get them out. On the line of deciding how to dismiss the man without provoking anger from him.

“She said no,” Bucky said evenly , shoulders square and standing upright.

The man looked over , annoyed. “Yeah? Why don't you mind your own business , pal.”

Bucky tilted his head, stepping closer, voice calm. “I make it my business when I see a man harassing a woman.”

The guy took one look at the way Bucky stood—loose but ready , quiet but unwavering , and seemed to think better of it. 

With a grumbled curse and one more look towards the waitress , he backed off, hitting Bucky's shoulder as he stalked down the sidewalk.

Bucky turned to the waitress. “You okay?” His voice is low and sincere.

She nodded quickly , exhaling a shaky breath. 

“Thank you. I'm sorry..He… he would not stop.”

Bucky blinked , noticing it now. The soft roll of her R’s , the lilting vowels , the way she tilted her head when she spoke , like she was trying to find each word before it fled.

He softened. “There's no need for you for be sorry , Where are you from?”

“Romania,” she said, her eyes still wary but grateful. “I move here six months ago.”

Bucky nodded slowly , something catching in his chest.

 “I lived in Romania for a little while. Long time ago , but….”

She blinked, surprised. “You did?”

He offered a small smile. “Yeah , I did-” 

He took a breath. 

“Well that guy was a jerk. You deserve to be treated better.”

She looked down , shy, then back up seeing him begging to turn around and leave 

“I finish soon. Fifteen minutes. Maybe… you stay? For coffee? Or… or lunch? As thank you.” She said stuttering , words coming out before she could think about the offer she was giving the near stranger.

He hesitated.

Then glanced toward the little library nook tucked in the back corner of the café , cozy chairs , dusty bookshelves , a tall window spilling golden light across the floor.

“…Alright,” he said quietly. “Yeah. I’ll wait.”

She smiled and ran off behind the counter to continue her shift.

And her smile ,  it was the kind of smile that warmed more than just the air.

–

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty. But Bucky didn’t mind. 

He browsed the books , finger trailing along spines , most of the selection too modern for him to recognize as he sat in the deep blue armchair by the window.

When she returned , she was out of uniform , in a soft maroon sweater and jeans. 

Hair pulled back in a loose ponytail , face flushed from the morning rush. She carried two cups—one for each of them.

“Im sorry , I don’t know your name,” she said as she sat beside him.

“Bucky and thank you for the cup,” he replied , offering his hand , then taking the steaming drink.

She looked at it for a moment before slipping her smaller one into his. “Nice to meet you , Bucky” Her accent strong saying his name. 

He smiled at his name being said from your mouth , he tried your name on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name”

She beamed , cheeks pink. “You say it good. Most people… not so.”

He grinned. “Perks of having been around a while, I know a good name when I hear one.”

She laughed softly and sipped her drink , glancing out the window before turning back to him. “I like here. New York. Big. Loud. But… beautiful.”

He nodded. “Yeah , it can be a little loud but it's home..”

Her eyes twinkled. “You show me? Some favorite place?”

“Now?” he asked eyes widening slightly.

“Why not?” she asked , tilting her head.

And for once , Bucky didn’t have a reason to say no.

–

They walked through the city as it began to glow with the slowly rising sun—she was taking it all in. 

Flower stalls spilling color and petals onto the sidewalks , fire escapes draped in ivy , kids playing on stoops , steam curling from sidewalk grates.

Bucky showed her the little park behind the church where the trees stayed green longer than anywhere else in the city. 

The hotdog stand currently filling the streets with a delicious smell , ran by a younger gentleman named Marcus. The alley mural that changed with the seasons , painted by a retired art teacher named Luis–

“You know everyone,” she said with a grin , bumping her shoulder into his.

“Just the people worth knowing.” he said smiling down at her.

Eventually, she pointed to a pizza place across the street. “I’m hungry.”

“Well we can't have that now can we?” He teased reaching for her hand out of instinct as they made their way across the crosswalk.

They grabbed a slice each and sodas—hers topped with cherries , his an ice cold root beer as they sat on the patio outside.

When she pulled the cherry from her drink and popped it into her mouth , her smile turned mischievous.

“Wanna see something cool?”

He raised a brow curiously.. “Always.”

Tongue in cheek , her brows furrowed , concentrated. A moment later , she popped open her mouth barely  to reveal a perfectly tied cherry stem between her lips..

Bucky blinked. “How did you-?”

She giggled. “My superpower , wanna try?”

He chuckled , leaning in close. “Mind if I borrow it?”

Her brows lifted , playful as she shook her head leaning toward him  , before he dipped forward and kissed her—quick , warm, stealing the cherry stem and leaving her laughing in surprise.

“You thief,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Now watch” he said smirking , beginning to try and tie the stem. He failed , making you laugh when he pouted.

–

You walked more after that , bellies fully now side by side , shoulders brushing. 

There was no tension , the air between them light and full of things unsaid but felt. Every few steps , she glanced at him, like she was still making sure he was real and here.

They found a park bench and sat and she started telling a story, her words careful and chosen , something about her grandmother and the village where she grew up. 

About how they had an orange cat who always sat in the windowsill , pawing at birds and purring like a tractor.

“My grandmother—she keep her, ah…” She paused, brow furrowed, searching. “How you say… the animal? Meow?” she said shyly.

Bucky smiled, hand resting on the edge of the bench , fingers brushing across her shoulder.  “Do you mean a cat?”

“Yes! Cat! I forget the word.” She laughed at herself, cheeks flushing. “I speak English in head well but not in mouth.”

“You’re doing great,” he said sincerely. “And you’re brave for trying.”

“Brave?” she echoed.

He nodded. “Most people wouldn’t move to a new country and speak a whole new language every day. That’s very brave doll.”

She looked down at the sidewalk, then back up at him with something like pride. “You are kind. I like your words.”

They sat in comfortable silence as an idea popped in her head , she grinned suddenly facing him. 

“Would you like to learn something?” she asked shyly again.

“You mean in Romanian?” 

She nodded and he copied the movement , agreeing. 

“Ok let me think , what was name you said just minute ago?”

“Me calling you  Doll?” he asked shifting , facing her fully , but his hand stayed still on her shoulder.

“Doll is..păpușă”

He tried to say it but fumbled a bit. But after trying again caught on quickly.

“Very good” she smiled brightly at his now perfect pronunciation.

“Well…You know păpușă”... He grinned a lopsided smirk using her native tongue making her giggle.

“I have a cat” he finished.

She stopped , blinking. “You have cat?”

“Mmhmm , would you.. do you want to meet her?”

And just like that , she was tugging gently on his sleeve and leading him up off the bench with the brightest eyes.

He took lead and guided them toward his building , a little more heart in every step.

–

Bucky’s apartment was quiet and soft—the kind of space that had been shaped by discipline but held with care. 

Pale wood floors. A worn rug. Books stacked on desks. A record player humming quietly in the corner.

And a snow-white cat perched on the armrest of his couch , staring at them like she’d been expecting the company.

“That’s Alpine,” he said, toeing off his boots.

You crouched beside the couch , holding your hand out gently. 

“Hello, mazăre dulce” (sweet pea)

Alpine blinked , slow and careful , then pressed her head into your palm.

Bucky watched with awe. “She usually doesn’t warm up that fast.”

“Animals know,” she said simply. “They feel your… how do you sa…”

“Energy?” he knew immediately by the gesture she was making with her free hand.

“Da. That.” (yes)

She stood again , turning in a slow circle to take in his apartment. Her eyes landed on the record collection stacked neatly in a corner . “These all yours?”

“Yeah. Old habits started collecting young and it just stuck.”

“You play something for me?” she asked, smiling reaching her eyes with wonder sparkling in them.

He nodded , moving to the turntable and flipping through records. The warm scratch of vinyl filled the room as he dropped the needle—slow forties jazz winding its way into the quiet  , like smoke curling in air.

She walked toward him , slow, fingertips brushing over spines of books and corners of furniture like she was memorizing it all.

“You live alone?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. Just me and Alpine.”

“Must be lonely , no?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

She stood beside him now , close. “Not tonight.”

“No,” he said, turning to face her. “But , not tonight.”

They ended up tangled legs on the couch as they talked until the sky turned deep indigo. 

They shared stories about places they’d been. Foods she missed. Dreams she had. 

He told her about the mountains in Wakanda that reminded him of the hills in Romania, about the bakery a block away that made the best croissants outside of Paris. She told him about wildflowers in the fields back home she would dance in as a fetiță , and how she used to braid them into her grandmothers hair.

Eventually after a couple yawns and seeing the lights come to light in the city , she stood , glancing at the time on her phone. 

“I should go. It’s late.”

He grounded stretching as he moved with her to the door, Alpine trailing behind like a silent chaperone.

Outside , the city hummed in the distance—sirens and laughter and tires on pavement. A cab waited at the corner , its headlights soft and waiting.

She turned to him , fingers curled around her bag strap.

He reached out , brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. 

“Can I see you again?”

Her smile stretched, warm and bright. “Yes i would like a lot.”

And then he kissed her again—gentle , quiet, like a promise. She kissed him back like she did at lunch , with a softness that made his ribs ache.

“Bye, Bucky,” she whispered as she pulled back , voice barely a sound.

“Bye, păpușă” he murmured. (doll)

She smiled at the name and kissed him quickly on the corner of his mouth and walked toward the cab , looking back once , cheeks pink and eyes bright , like her heart was already racing toward the next time they are together..

Bucky stood at the edge of the street, watching her go.

And for the first time in a long time , the city and his mind didn’t feel so heavy.

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you heard from Bradley. Perhaps something went wrong. Or maybe he was avoiding you. Just when you start trying to accept that the last few months were too good to be true, things start to turn around again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being sweet

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Days went by. With only two weeks left of Bradley's deployment, you weren't really expecting to receive air mail at school with your name on it, but you certainly did miss it anyway. Your students asked about him every morning, wondering if he'd sent a new email, hoping for another video with Marty. But you got nothing in either of your email inboxes.

He was on your mind almost constantly. What happened on his mission? Did the Navy decide it was okay to cut off communication right when you were completely attached to hearing from him? Did this really mean you had to wait until the aircraft carrier arrived back in San Diego? 

It was right before your students were due to arrive in your classroom that you had perhaps the most distressing thoughts of all. What if something went terribly wrong and he didn't survive? Or what if this was simply his way of ghosting you before he had to see you in person?

Jayden raced in ahead of the rest of your class, calling your name along the way. "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw write back yet?"

You pointed him toward his desk as you shook your head. "I already explained that he may not have time to respond before his deployment ends."

Jayden just bounced in place in front of you. "Then that means he can visit us when he gets back!"

Now a small group of your kids surrounded you, and you wished more than anything that you could tell them that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, their beloved pen pal, would definitely be visiting your classroom in a few short days. Instead you told them, "Please, take your seats so we can start our Natural History lesson."

This turned out to be your new normal. Every time you got an email notification, you jumped to unlock your phone, but it was never a message from Bradley. When you saw a box tucked in your mail cubby in the school office, you ran for it, only to find the science supplies you ordered weeks ago had arrived. You even forced yourself to go back and read some of the old emails from him, just to make sure it all really happened, but his words left you aching for more.

...I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies...

...You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?...

...Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head...

...And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when...

After nearly two weeks had gone by, you tried to figure out if the USS Theodore Roosevelt was back in port, but short of driving to North Island to see for yourself, you couldn't seem to find a solid answer online. And if you did drive there and found it at the dock, what were you supposed to do? Contact the US Navy? If they told you that nothing happened to Lieutenant Bradshaw and that he was perfectly fine, you'd be mortified. If they told you something in fact did happen to him in the last two weeks, you'd be devastated. That's assuming you could even get them to give you any information at all which was doubtful.

On Friday, you were on the verge of tears as you got ready for work. "You're being ridiculous," you whispered, and that fact made you want to cry even more. You tried to take the time to make yourself look presentable, thinking that may be the key to having a good day. Your outfit was cute. Your makeup looked nice. But you weren't smiling, and you didn't feel like doing so at all. 

You grabbed your bag, hoping the short ride with your favorite playlist would be enough to get your spirits up, but all you could think about was how you probably weren't cut out for life with a guy in the military anyway. Waiting around like this to see what was going on was making your stomach upset, and you weren't getting enough sleep. When you closed your eyes, you just pictured a very kissable face with a scarred cheek and big brown eyes.

"You need to focus," you scolded as you parked your car and headed into the school with your ID badge. You had eighteen kids who required your attention, and you'd once again give it to them, because you were fantastic at your job. 

This morning, Violet was the first one to mention Bradley in passing, and you had to shake your head. "Please find your seats. If I hear from Lieutenant Bradshaw, I promise I will let you know. I'm not hiding any letters or emails from you all, okay?" You tried to smile as you said, "I'd like to hear from him every bit as badly as you would. I can guarantee that."

You struggled through your morning lessons, often reminding yourself that you needed to focus on your students. Then you sat quietly at your desk with the classroom lights off during lunch, scrolling back through the dozens of emails you'd exchanged with Bradley on your phone. You pulled up the picture of the sun setting behind him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and even though you tried, you couldn't find anything other than the most sincere expression on his handsome face.

Maybe he would text you this weekend, letting you know he was back and your date was on. You had to believe he would still contact you. When the bell rang, you counted to ten, and then your students came flooding back through your classroom door. They wanted to tell you all about how Jasper from Mrs. Wynn's class got in trouble during lunch, and you humored them before saying, "I'm sure none of you would misbehave like that in the cafeteria."

"No way!" Henry promised.

"That's what I like to hear," you told him with a forced smile. "Once you're all in your seats, we'll start our math lesson. Maybe I'll put a few aviation problems on the board at the end if you show me how well you can focus for the next twenty minutes."

You had just started copying the first fraction that you wanted to discuss from your notebook onto the board when there was a sharp knock on your classroom door. You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on the white board, knowing that another disruption would completely derail your kids after all the lunchtime nonsense. When you turned to face the door, they were already starting to chatter with each other. 

"Come in!" you called out, and every head in your room whipped around to see who was there and what they wanted. 

When the door swung open, the room went silent. The first thing you thought about was how peculiar it was to see someone in a khaki military uniform standing there. Then your eyes slid up that tall, muscular frame as your lips parted in surprise. As soon as you met his gaze, he smiled and said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

You couldn't speak. As he took a full step into your classroom and pulled the door closed, you finally noticed he was holding some pretty flowers. Then he was heading your way, his combat boots squeaking ever so slightly against the tile floor with each long stride. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't hesitating at all as he made his way directly to you while your students started talking again.

"It's Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"I knew he'd come visit us ever since I asked him to!"

"Does this mean his deployment is over?"

"Why does he have flowers?"

He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of you, and the butterflies in your belly were fluttering so much, you were convinced you could float off of the floor. You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply whispered, "Bradley."

His smile grew as he said, "I love the way that sounds when you say it." You could only squeak in response, and his warm gaze flicked from your eyes down to your lips. At this rate you'd be a puddle at his feet in the next ten seconds. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushed as he leaned in closer, taking another small step forward until his boot gently bumped your shoe. His voice took on a raspier edge as said, "You told me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

He didn't stop slowly closing the distance, and when you reached out and let your fingers tangle with his, you whispered, "Please." Then you closed your eyes as his lips brushed feather light against yours. You gasped. He was here. Nothing had ever felt as good as this in your life. You opened your eyes to find him grinning right in front of you, and you chased him for another one of his dreamy kisses.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw kissed her!"

"I think they're in love!"

"They are definitely going to be girlfriend and boyfriend!"

Bradley wrapped his fingers around yours a little tighter as you and he laughed, and he ducked his head before looking up at your class. His cheeks were the most alluring shade of pink as he told them, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I decided to surprise you and your teacher."

"We don't mind!" shouter Oliver as he was practically sitting on his desk now in excitement. All of the kids were bouncing with anticipation, and you couldn't stop smiling as Violet clapped her hands together.

"Great, because I brought my responses to your last batch of letters, too. I can't thank you enough for being my pen pals for the last few months. You made my time away from home a lot more fun." He turned to look at you before softly adding, "And you made coming back home feel really good."

You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run your fingers along his scars and press your lips to his skin in their wake. You wanted to bury your nose against his neck and inhale the smell of his skin and his uniform collar. You wanted to feel his mustache on your lips. Instead, because every eye in the room was on the two of you, you told him, "I'm really happy you're here." You tugged on his hand so he was standing front and center, and you turned to your kids and asked, "What do we say when we have a special guest visit us?"

"Thank you!" they all shouted in unison.

"That's right," you told them. Then you looked up at Bradley, and he handed you the flowers with a crooked little grin, and that's when you noticed he had a small notebook in his hand as well. 

"Can I call each kid up to get their letter?" he asked, as if you would deny him anything at the moment. "Then I can put faces to all of the names."

You were still definitely at risk of melting. "You wrote each of them a personal letter again?" you asked him, holding your flowers to your chest and trying not to swoon.

"Yeah," he replied, opening his notebook to show you. He stood there, looking devastatingly sexy, tearing out a page for every kid. He called each of them up and talked to them for a minute. He remembered the name of Jayden's dog. He remembered that Violet loved neon-colored everything. He remembered that Henry said his grandfather was in the Navy. He remembered so much, and he was so willing to indulge all of their questions.

You just stood there with your flowers and watched this endearing man captivate all nineteen of you with his words. He let Oliver try on one of his insignia pins. He drew a diagram of an aircraft carrier on your white board. He met your gaze more often than not. He smiled at you every time he did. He told your students that the reason they were so smart was because you were such a good teacher. The butterflies were here to stay now.

When you looked around, you noticed that your kids were cherishing their personal notes just like you were your flowers. You didn't want this afternoon to end, and yet, as soon as the first bell rang at three o'clock, you jumped to attention. The sooner your students cleared out of the room for the weekend, the sooner you could hopefully have a few minutes alone with Bradley before he wanted to go home and rest.

"We need to pack up," you announced, finally setting the bouquet down on your desk while Bradly affixed his pin back on his uniform shirt.

"Do we have to?" whined Jayden. "Lieutenant Bradshaw like just got here!"

He had in fact been in your classroom for over two hours, but you couldn't blame them for wanting more. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at you as he said, "I could come back again?" with that sincere gaze you were already weak for. "Spend a few more hours answering questions? Maybe bring some engine parts with me?"

You bit your lip before you could whimper out loud, and he started to head in your direction. "We would love that," you told him.

"Yeah?" he asked you as your kids erupted into a rowdy mob, grabbing all of their belongings as the final bell rang.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, waving lazily to your students as they shouted their goodbyes to both you and Bradley. His steps had him reaching you right as the last few kids left your room, and you whispered, "You'll come back?"

He reached for your hand as he said, "I'll do anything you want, Gorgeous." He must have been able to read the needy look on your face, because when you tugged on his hand, he came all the way to you. His other hand ended up at your waist as his lips found yours, and this time, the feather light kisses deepened as you parted your lips. Bradley groaned softly, kissing you just right, and then he whispered, "I've been dying for this."

Your arms went around his neck, kissing him a little frantically, melting at his touch and the feel of his soft, wavy hair between your fingers. "Me too," you told him before pulling his bottom lip gently between yours. He backed you up until you bumped into your desk, and all you could think about was how good his weight would feel on top of you.

Your skin felt too hot when he finally broke the kiss, panting softly as you ran your thumb along his scars. "I didn't like not hearing from you the past two weeks," you told him, and his brown eyes softened even as his hold on you tightened a little bit. "It was... kind of scary."

"I didn't like it either," he told you. "And I was going to text you immediately when we docked this morning, but then I decided to just come here instead." He grinned as your fingers crept back up into his hair. "If they didn't let me sign in with my military ID in the front office, I don't know what I would have done. I just wanted to see you."

You kissed his chin and said, "Usually I hate surprises. But this one was perfect."

"Okay, see, that's good information to know," he rasped. "I only got a ride home long enough to throw my duffle in the front door and hop in my Bronco. I stopped for the flowers, and then I just wanted to get here with my notebook."

You tipped your head back and whispered, "How am I supposed to deal with how sweet you are?"

"Oh! That reminds me," he muttered, rubbing his hand along your back before releasing you and strolling over to where he left his notebook on Oliver's desk. The way your body wanted you to follow him was surprising, but it gave you a chance to look at him again from head to toe as you stood next to your desk. There was nothing out of place on this man, and you pressed your lips together as his bicep flexed against his shirt sleeve. He tore another sheet of paper from his notebook and said, "I have one more note to deliver."

He walked back over to you, and when he held it up with a hopeful look, you took it from him and read.

Hey, Gorgeous. I couldn't wait one more minute to see you. And now that I'm here, I don't want today to end. Is there any way I can convince you to let me take you out for our first official date tonight instead of tomorrow? Bradley

When you looked up from the page, his eyebrows were raised, and that crooked little grin was hovering close to the surface. "I know I said to plan for tomorrow, but I can't fucking wait that long."

You bit down on your lip, shocked by how much better today turned out to be than you could have ever imagined earlier this morning. "Yeah. You've convinced me, Bradley. Tonight sounds perfect."

With that, you were treated to a little smirk beneath his mustache. He carefully took the sheet of notebook paper from your hands, set it down next to the flowers on your desk and proceeded to kiss you senseless.

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

He's going to make me hyperventilate. Those kids were SO excited to have him in their classroom, but they were nowhere near as excited as Gorgeous! He's home! And he wants to have his beach picnic and takeout and makeout sesh immediately. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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@furiousladyking

[wonderjanga]

Zombies

(So this is a little continuation from this post)

So basically in that post, Marvel and Aquaman got separated from the JL and find some ancient underwater Atlantean zombies.

*zombie groan*

Aquaman and Marvel: *slowly look over*

Giant Horde of Zombies: *just standing there*

They proceeded to go on a scooby doo be do type of chase, eventually deciding to hide in a ruined building.

Aquaman: “Should we just get rid of them?” *peeks head over some rubble to look at the zombies and is already readying his trident*

Marvel: “We can’t.” *also peaks head*

Aquaman: “What do you mean, we can’t? We have to take care of this now. If we leave, they might follow us back to Atlantis.”

Marvel: “I’m not saying we should leave them. They’re cursed.”

Aquaman: “Magic did this?”

Marvel: “Yeah.” *nods head* “We have to find out what happened to them.”

Aquaman: “Wouldn’t killing them be much easier? It’d be putting them out of their misery.”

Marvel: “Arthur, they’re still alive.”

Aquaman: “Eeeeh… Are they though?”

Marvel and Aquaman: *watch has a zombie runs into a wall and keeps trying to walk through that wall*

Marvel: “They are. Killing them will be our Plan B. If the curse is lifted, they might go back to normal and if not...”

Marvel and Aquaman: *look back at the zombie that is still running into the wall repeatedly*

Marvel: “We’ll get rid of them.”

After sneaking around a bunch more, they finally found a temple.

Marvel: “Gosh, I remember this place!” *looking around in wonder* “It was beautiful. It’s a real shame it’s just ruins now.”

Aquaman: *leaning down and looking at some broken stained glass* “I bet it was.”

Marvel: *spots a chalice on an altar* “I think that’s is it. I can sense some magic residue.” *jogs over*

Aquaman: *also walks over and spots a plaque on the altar* “Ancient Atlantean?” *skims it over* “Wow. The thing in that cup was a glorified liquid plague.”

Marvel: “It was? All the priests always talked about it like it was holy water.” *picks up the chalice* “Looks like someone drank it.”

Aquaman: “No wonder they’re zombies.”

Marvel: “Huh. To think the plague lasted this long. It’s a wonder they aren’t decomposing.”

Aquaman: “Uh, Cap?” *points to the horde rushing at them*

Marvel: *sighs* “It looks like we’ll have to get rid of them after all. If they’ve been with this plague for so long, it’s probably bonded too deep for me to use a counterspell.”

Aquaman: *pulls out his trident and gets to work*

Like Two Days Later…

Supes: “You were gone for almost two days, where have you been?”

Aquaman: “Oh yeah, that’s our bad. We got rid of some zombies-

Flash: “Zombies??”

Aquaman: “-and then popped up to the surface for some burgers.”

Batman: “And you didn’t think to contact us at all?”

Marvel: “We were really hungry. Arthur also tried to pay them in Atlantean currency cause that was all he had. So I spent like twenty minutes having to convert it into US dollars.” (Ref to the Wonder Girl and Marvel post from a long long long time ago)

Flash: “Cool! Uh… but why’re you guys covered in blood.”

Aquaman: “This is from the zombies.”

WW: “Have neither of you bathed yet…?”

Marvel: “Nope.”

They were in fact covered in blood. Fun fact, after killing all the zombies, Arthur actually found out the hard way that Atlantan zombie blood doesn’t infect you if it gets in your mouth. Though, he still ended up retching for like five minutes while Marvel was just patting his back.

Aquaman: *violently retching his guts out*

Marvel: “It’s okay, pal. Let it all out.” *patting his back*

[firelilyfox]

Your laughter is my favorite sound

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Summary: Bucky got accepted into the army. Now he has to train to become a soldier. When the daughter of his General stumbles into the camp, he can't really think about something else. Wordcount: 1.9k Warnings: heavy flirting. indicated s3xual activity. Bucky has a crush on you. combat training. kissing.

__________________________________

December 1941

This is it. The U.S Army training camp. And Bucky never felt more at home in his entire life. 

As soon as he got the green light from his physical tests, he packed his bags and waited for the day he could join the other young men to train for combat. 

„Hey Barnes! Looks like we are bunk buddys“, his pal from the testing station calls out. He was a bulky kid with a never-ending smile on his face. Sometimes Bucky asked himself if it will vanish during their serving time or not. 

Bucky sat down on the bed next to his and smiled. „Great so I can hear you snoring the whole damn night.“ 

„Hey! I don’t snore at all. I’m a heavy breather.“ He defended himself, throwing a pillow at Buckys face. He caught it mid air and slap it on the head of his friend. 

The two young soldiers were laughing like little boys, when the door got opened. All other soldiers stood up simultaneously and lined up perfectly. Bucky noticed it and joined the line of young men, still holding the pillow in one hand. 

„Soldier. This is the first day of your training to become honorable men who serve our glorious country. I’m the General of this company and I’m responsible for all of you.“ The old man looked around with a stoic expression on his face. 

Bucky should’ve paid attention to him, but he couldn’t focus on his words because he was distracted. 

By a woman. He was distracted by you. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes, when he watched you step around the general and walked down the line of soldiers. Calm, controlled steps brought you to pass the men. They were listening to the general. But Bucky had only eyes for you. 

You’re wearing a uniform, just like them. Heavy boots on your feet and a piercing look on your face. 

I never saw someone so intimidating and beautiful at the same time. Bucky thought to himself. 

„May I introduce to you“, the Genreal pointing at you. „My daughter. And also the psychological support of this company section. She will judge your mental abilities to cope with stress and possible threats. If you want to serve in the Army, then her verdict will be crucial. Don’t mess up.“ 

You came to the end of the line, standing right in front of Bucky. He straightens his back and got up to his full size. He was about two heads taller than you. But it he’s got the feeling that won’t impress you much. 

Your eyes traveled over his full length and stopped at his hands. 

„What is that, Soldier?“ You asked. Bucky almost smiled because he liked the way your voice sounds. 

Bucky gulped. „A pillow, ma’am.“ 

You stepped closer to him and he followed your movements with his eyes. With a challenging spark you looked up to him. „Already tired of me, hm?“ 

Before he could stutter a pathetic excuse, the General gave a sign to get ready for the first combat training. You turned around on your heel and left Bucky stuttering to himself. 

„That was a hell of a first impression, Barnes.“ His friend beside him joked. 

Bucky smacked him with his pillow and flipped him off afterwards. But a sudden smile forced itself onto his lips. That could be interesting. 

It was really hard for Bucky to find a moment to talk to you alone. Weeks had passed and he didn’t get any chance to interact with you at all. Every time he entered the dining hall, you already had left. When he searched for your face in the crowd of dirty men, you were busy taking notes or talking to the Generals of the different companies. 

He almost gave up. But then he decided to go for a run late at night. Bucky had trouble to fall asleep, manly because of all the loudly snoring men in his bunker. The night was peaceful and quiet. The air warm and the sky clouded. Rain was about to come soon. 

He ran around the corner and saw someone sitting on the roof of a weapon shelter. The stone bunker was embedded into a small hill, with grass on the top. Two legs were dangling over the entrance. 

Bucky couldn’t hold back a smile when he realized it was you. Sitting up there, facing the sky. He jog over to the bunker. 

„Do you like to sit on guns at night?“ He asked. 

You dropped your gaze down to him. „Does this pickup line usually work for you?“ 

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He repeated his words again in his head and cringed immediately. 

„It sounded better in my head.“ 

You chuckled. It activated butterflies in his stomach. And Bucky knew he wanted to hear it again. 

„Why are you awake, Soldier?“ 

„You can call me Bucky“, he said while climbing up the hill and sat down beside you. With an honorable distance of course. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off. 

„Okay. Why are you awake, Soldier Bucky?“ You teased him. 

He shakes his head with a defeated smile. „Life threatening earthquakes, caused by the snoring of about sixty men. Makes it hard to fall asleep.“ 

A laugh escaped your lips. You tried to cover up your mouth with both hands, but the bright sound of your laughter was already etched deep in Bucky’s soul. 

„Sorry to hear that. But you don’t need a beauty sleep anyway.“ The second the words were spoken, your eyes widened in shock. Bucky assumed these were meant to stay silent thoughts, that unwillingly escaped your tongue. 

A smitten smile pulled on his lips. „So you think I’m pretty?“ 

You didn’t answer. Instead you jumped up and turned to leave without a word. Bucky failed to hold you back. 

Damn she’s fast. He thought, punching himself mentally for screwing up. Bucky could only watch you leave him up on the hill, wondering how someone so confident (and still intimidating) can be so easily flustered by a joke. 

Bucky smiled, knowing that from this moment, he wouldn’t give up on you. He will get another chance, even if he has to work for it. 

The following days, you were nowhere to be found. Not even in the office of the General. Which made Buckys surprise even bigger, when you joined the company for combat training. 

You walked around the paired up soldiers, watching their skills closely. Successfully avoiding getting to close to him. Bucky wouldn’t let his chance slide, so he came up with an idea. 

„You have to punch me.“

His friend frowned confused. „I’m trying.“ 

„No I mean really punch me. As hard as you can. Make it hurt.“ Bucky followed you out of the corner of his eye. 

„Are you drunk? Why do you want me to hurt you?“ He asked.

Bucky groaned impatient. „I want her to get over here so I can talk to her.“ 

He followed when Bucky nodded in your direction. „You really think that will work? She is way out of your league.“ 

„Yeah no shit! But I still have to try.“ 

„Fiiine.“ His friend sighted. 

And he punched Bucky right in the face. Bucky helped a bit, by tripping and falling to the ground. 

„Uh- uhm we need some help over here!“ His pal called out. 

„What are you doing?“, Bucky hissed at him. 

„I though you wanted her to come over..?“ He replied through his teeth so only Bucky could hear him. 

„Yeah but-…“ 

„What’s wrong?“ You asked as you reached them. 

Bucky reacted fast. „Oh uhm - I think he needs to go to the nurse and let them treat his hand. He has very sensitive bones.“ 

His friend almost contradicted, but instead grabbed his wrist with a painful expression. „Oh yeah. His face hurt my hand really bad.“ 

You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. „Fine. Go, Soldier.“ 

Before you could turn back around again, Bucky stood up blocking your way. „I still need another combat partner.“ 

„And let me guess; you want me to be that?“ You assumed, already straightened your shoulders. 

„I will be careful, I promise.“ Bucky said with a crooked smile. He lowered his voice. „Because I think you’re pretty too and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.“ 

He wanted it so sound playful but the last part slipped out a bit more serious than he had in mind. Because it was the truth. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Never. 

You blinked in surprise, as if you understood the true meaning behind his teasing words. But you quickly recover and put on a feisty face. With a combination of quick movements, you were able to surprise him and land a high kick on his shoulder. Not hard but clearly making a point. 

„You talk to much“, you huffed, landing another hit. 

It was like a dance between two strangers that’ve become more and more comfortable with each other. Bucky was surprised about the fighting skills you pulled on him. He never saw you train with the other soldiers, so he didn’t knew what you were capable of. But he always learned quickly. He managed to get a hold on you and captured your wrists in his hands. 

„I still don’t know your name“, he said with a low voice. 

You blushed. It could be the heat of movement, but Bucky could’ve sweared he saw your cheeks get a little darker. 

You got up on your tiptoes, lean closer to him. Bucky could feel your breath on his neck. „Why? Do you want me to make you scream my name?“ 

Buckys body reacted and froze immediately. His grip weakened around your wrists and he watched you with big, round puppy eyes. You gave him a evil wink … and hooked your leg behind his to send him to the ground with one hard push. He dropped like a wet bag of clothes, unable to defend himself after what you just said. You may be weaker than him, but way smarter. 

„It was nice to talk to you, Soldier Bucky.“ 

He watched you leave, still speechless. This woman will be the death of me. 

Later that day he couldn’t resist to sneak out again. The night was quiet and he managed to search for your quarters. Bucky didn’t knew what he expected you to say, when he knocked on your door. Would you be mad? Insult him and telling the General about his inappropriate behavior towards his daughter? 

He for sure didn’t expect for you to just tilt your head and smile. 

„You make me question everything, you know that? Is your name Mixed Signals by any chance? Because I’m getting the …“ 

„Bucky“, you mumbled grabbing his collar. „You talk to much.“ 

You pulled him down and his lips crashed into yours. At first he hesitated in surprise. Never could’ve he guessed your next move and certainly not this one. But then he leaned into the kiss. He rested his rough hands on your waist, pulling you closer. 

He pulled away by a few inches. „You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.“ 

You smiled. „Stop waiting then. And do something.“ 

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up, so you could wrap your legs around his waist. With a careless nudge, he pushed the door closed behind you, while still claiming your lips. 

When your back hit the mattress, a little squeak escaped your throat, followed by giggles. Bucky pulled away. His blue eyes were sparkling as he looked down at you, softly brushing his fingers over your cheek. 

„Your laughter is my favorite sound.“ 

You melted beneath his strong, defined body. „Let me show you another sound for that list.“ 

____________________________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't steal my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[cottonlemonade]

Tsukki’s Pining

word count: 753 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tsukishima x popular chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: Hi I would love For breakfast and dinner to have a #14 to study possibly at the museum with Tsukishima. Thank you so much! Love your writing sm. It's been helping me destress these last few days 💞 || fluffy, part-time job with rival crush Tsukishima

Your popularity was of great annoyance to Tsukishima.

Every couple of steps there seemed to be yet another person you knew that drew you into yet another pointless conversation, distracting you from your job and, ultimately, him.

It was only natural for the two top students of the department to get the highly sought-after internships at the museum and while at first he thought you wanted to work in the same areas as he did to spite him, he quickly found he really didn’t mind spending more time with you alone. At least that’s what a not-so-quiet, but quickly suppressed, corner of his brain said.

Unfortunately, however, every other day there was some guy, looking lost at the exhibits and lighting up when he saw you. He’d come over and strike up an excited conversation, and you’d giggle or hug him even until, eventually, you’d wave a merry goodbye.

Unlike most other people in the department, Tsukishima didn’t have a crush on you - officially. His heart didn’t flutter when you looked at him, his brain function wasn’t restricted when you gave him a smile, and he could easily form full sentences packed full of sarcasm and pettiness in your presence - officially.

In reality, much like everyone else, he had quickly fallen for your charm. With your witty nature and passion for the subject, he had caught (and scolded) himself too many times staring at you during lectures and study sessions, clenching his jaw when he saw you walking hand in hand with another winner over the campus, and he didn’t even have to pretend to be sick to his stomach when he found you making out in the back of the library - annoyingly, right in front of a book he needed. The guy had looked as if he didn’t even know how to spell pterodactyl, and the mental image popping up from that memory still made his blood boil.

Today wasn’t any different. You were both currently deeply engrossed in a discussion about the possible layout for a new exhibit when some stocky dark-haired guy with a megawatts smile and unaware expression beelined to you.

“Y/n! Fancy meeting you here.”

You chuckled in that charming way of yours and noted, “At the place where I work?”

The guy joined in your laughter, not the least bit embarrassed, and stepped closer, only to notice Tsukishima’s cold eyes on him.

“Oh hey! You’re Bunazawa, right?”

“Tsukishima.”, the tall blonde corrected him with a twitch of his brow.

“Ah. Well, I was close.” The other guy said good-naturedly.

“How is tha-“

You interrupted, “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to ask if you wanna come out tonight. I would have texted, but I know you can’t carry your phone with you during work.”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“Awesome!”

Tsukishima longed for the world that existed 2 minutes ago. Back when he didn’t have to witness you making some jock blush with a simple tilt of your head.

Especially now, as the guy turned to him, obviously in the mood for bonding - an attempt that he very much wanted to smother immediately.

“So, you also study pal-pealeo-pa-paleonlo- dinosaur science?”

Tsukishima had the perfect retort ready, one that would make this guy sorry for ever even considering to procreate when you took his hand to stop him, squeezing it while you kept your small talk going. His skin tingled, his palm felt too sweaty, and he didn’t hear anything you or the guy even said until he was already leaving. And you let go of him again.

Now that his thoughts became linear once more, he couldn’t help himself, “Dinosaur science? Really?”

You smirked at his judgy tone and had the audacity to shrug and reply, “What can I say? He’s a great kisser.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”, Tsukishima grumbled, “And start telling your boyfriends to stop coming here and interrupting our work. It’s annoying to have them drool over you all the time.”

You studied his face for a second with a knowing smile. “What, you don’t agree with them?”, you teased and struck a pose, hands on your pudgy hips.

Every muscle in his face protested when he suppressed a smile, “To me, you’re one of those chubby cats on social media rolling on the floor and chasing leaves.”

“Are you calling me fat?”, you asked, jokingly.

No, I was calling you cute, you idiot., he thought, but would sooner go out with one of your fans himself than admit that out loud.

art: the insanely talented @freaka-loonyz on Instagram

a/n: this is the last request of the university event! Thank you so, so much to everyone who requested, and so sorry to the people who had to wait months for their request to get done!! I hope you, dear anon who asked for this one, liked it, and thank you for your kind words! 🌟

I will take a bit of a break from request games because this one took so much out of me for no reason! 🥲

Special thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for helping me figure this one out 🫶🏻✨

[yurmomsawh0r]

This is a request for 🐻!

Purebred!reader x Mutt!Simone

Omegaverse, Alpha x Omega, Simone being an asshole, Rough doggy 🫦 , p n v sex, Simone calls reader a bitch (but not in a disrespectful way in a doggy verse way lol), MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, repost welcomed please!

• 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 🐻

Everything has been going perfectly for the last couple of months. Price and Soap feeling way better about getting you mutt to guard you. You seemed to be happy and loving the new attention so the feeling of sizzling fear that something bad was going to happen had been non existent.

Mutt!Simon seemed to be taking his job very seriously. He didn’t like anyone other than Price and Soap around you and even then that came with restrictions.

He didn’t like it if you have any ones scent on you other than his, he didn’t like if Soap or Price pampered you to long. He would always sulk and whine at the door when they had to groom you. Even growling and banging on the door until one of them caved.

Purebred!reader was always oblivious to Mutt!Simons over protective ways. His dominance always seeping through his pheromones make the little pup ditzy, swooning and ready to roll over to be mounted.

Soap and Price came over one day saying how they were going to be having a play date with some of your old gal pals with an addition of a new Doberman breed.

It was a fun evening. Mutt!Simone lazing away not to far while his little bitch enjoyed her play date.

It wasn’t until the Doberman kept making advances that he didn’t like.

The Doberman was a cocky fellow. Thinking he was the best in the room. Even when he tugged at your fluffy ears and constantly sniffed you to see if you’d been marked and taken.

Mutt!Simon hadn’t marked you yet. He was waiting till you were ripe for the season but the Doberman was making Simon consider doing it now to get the fucker to back off.

He well himself over getting up to check on what was going on because all we could hear was your squealing every two seconds. When he runs up on the couch, rage fires up inside of the door trying to pull down fluffy hair. It’s getting me to roll over.

The Doberman was trying to get you down to mount and possibly mark and Simon wasn’t having it.

Viciously mutt!Simon beings to growl and tear at the Doberman. Everyone of the of pups sitting and watching the battle take place.

It wasn’t really my children, Simon was raised to be a fighter so this was something he was used to versus the Doberman, who has been spoiled from the moment he came out the room. No scratches, freshly painting his coat while he wailed from the pain Simon was causing.

A few of the new pups were screaming at the scene, raising their behinds and presenting for the alpha in the room even you.

“Hey hey hey! What the fuck is going on here!” Soap, Price and a few more of the owners saunter into the room with panicked expressions.

“You fucking mutt! Simone! Heel! Shit..”

They were able to pull him off, a little blood and spittle forming at his mouth.

“Stay away from her of I will fuck you up Doberman!” Simone was very angry. He couldn’t believe someone would try his precious gem. She was his in his alone, made to submit to him and all his dominance.

In the background, both soap and price were apologizing to the other odors about the little fiasco and that guard dog for your protection and he hasn’t adapted to his new conditions.

Little did they know it wasn’t That Simon wasn’t adapted. It was more so he was very territorial over his omega. He wasn’t just her guard dog. He was hers indefinitely. He was going to be the one to fuck tons of litters in you and no one else.

To him, that show dog shit was done for. No more trying to match you up to breed with another pure bred.

After he was scowled for his behavior. Price and Soap took you both back to your home. Ridding Simon of the blood he had splatter over him. None of it his.

“You can’t be doing shit like that Simon! They can try to make us put you down if you caused serious damage.”

He only shrugged. “Next time till him to not try and fuck my bitch and we won’t have a problem.”

This made them shut up.

Clearly they can see that Mutt!Simone had grown attached to the purebred he was supposed to be guarding but Price knew it was inevitable.

After both men got them cleaned up and ready for a night, they both left and sauntered over to the main house on the estate.

“ I think we fucked up Price.”

“Why do you say that?” Soap had an idea but he wanted to see if Price was thinking the same thing he was.

“I think we paired her with a fucking Alpha mutt.” He swiped his face sighing. “Yea, I think we fucking did too.”

•

Your body was spent. Mutt!Simon practically had you up all night, only allowing you to take small naps before he started over again.

He was fucking you vigorously. His thick cock swelling and ready to knot you and knock you up. Your mewls rang out into the morning.

Simons sharp teeth never letting up on the blade of your shoulder. Marking you as his territory. As his omega.

You would forever carry his scent even when he wasn’t near and soon you’d be carrying his litter of pups.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” He growled. His not swelling while he stuff you full. You scream. The pain of your body catching his knot as his nut glazed your walls.

Then and only then did he release your nape from his locked jaws.

What a surprise it was for Price and Soap to see you locked on his knot. Stuck in doggy position.

They wanted to help you. Wipe your tears and clean you up. You had marks and bruises lingering on your hips and neck. Simon couldn’t even be bothered with them at the moment. He just sat up with you both still connected. He tried his best not the move but when he did you would cry more from the tight feeling.

Behind you, you could hear him flick a lighter before taking a hit of his cigarette while wiping his face from the sweat.

“That show dog shit is over.” He tells them all.

“Now get out so I can breed my little omega.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Sampo Koski is the type of man who always manages to mix in pleasure with his business. If any sane person were to even simply glance at him, they'd know that the man was nothing but trouble.

That's what made him so fun to play around with.

A friends with benefits type of deal was just so perfect for the both of you. Neither wanted to get too deeply involved with the other but the chemistry between you two was off the charts. Heated glances were exchanged whenever you'd pass by him, his eyebrows raising cheekily high up as you'd recall the way Sampo would touch you in the cover of darkness, those skilled and thieving hands which would take their sweet time in making you quiver in pleasure.

Oh he was so horrible with how damn slow he could get, but to Hell with it all if it didn't feel good.

Breathless nothings were exchanged between the lovebirds as their bodies would do most of the talking, passion erasing any sort of rationale, lust clouding ones judgement. Those fleeting moments were intense as the sun itself - hot and hard to handle, it left the two breathless and aching but by everything and anything, the ache was so delectable. It felt like the personification of devouring the most delectable sweet ever created in the whole entire universe, only multiplied by a million.

Sampo always got a kick out of the thought that he had you on the hook. Your good old pal Sampo, who was ready to do anything you wanted, who was right there to make any sick and dark fantasy of yours come to life... for the right price and compensation of course!

Your entire relationship was a very much give and take type of deal. The line was drawn neatly in the sand and he was to never cross it.

But Sampo, ever the joyous fool that he was, had so much fun dancing on that line.

His kisses became longer, his touches would linger on you far more intimately than they had any right to. You'd constantly have to slap his hands away because if things could be done the way he desired them to, Sampo would be slobbering all over you like a starving dog. He never took your jabs seriously, always laughing them off or cracking a bad joke as he was literally still inside of you, your back pressed against his chest, the sweat off your skin molding with his own, causing the entire room to garner a whole new smell.

He sure did like to pick and choose his timing to be extra stupid, you'd grit through your teeth.

However, one day, all was not well in the little paradise which Sampo had oh so wonderfully created for himself. The familiar slap on the wrist and the annoyed tone to just hurry up became... Painful. Hard to ignore. It felt as though someone had taken one of his own blades and just stabbed him in the heart without a care in the world.

Sampo could not rest well that night.

The sensation quickly became uncomfortable to deal with. No, unbearable.

He started to pester you on your whereabouts and with who you would be with and even if you never told him, Sampo would always be in the exact same places you'd be, the usual sleazy grin plastered across his face as he rubbed his hands together like some cheeky little fly. Oh come on, he's just having fun, don't be so harsh on him! You'll hurt his feelings you know, he would say to you in a playful manner.

Everything he would say would be an absolute truth. He just wasn't fully aware of it, he needed time to process this mess.

Sampo couldn't help but to despise you a little. There you were, living your life happily and you would just toss him aside like yesterday's garbage once you had your fun with him.... Which he didn't actually mind, sort of. There was a certain edge he got from knowing that he could just crawl back to you whenever he damn well pleased, even if he did like to pretend that he didn't care about you other than on a skin deep level.

You had too much power over him and that, my dear friend, was a breach in your contract. Sure, that part might have been written in a more fine print but regardless, Sampo simply must take what he is due!

[idiopath-fic-smile]

this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that. 

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing. 

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together. 

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it. 

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 3) Chapter One

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter One: Revelations and Art

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki tell everyone about their relationship.

Mouse Note: Welcome back! How are we feeling? Good, I hope. I'm so excited for this book, even if it's shorter and the end of this series. I love you all and this journey.

            “(L/N), Saiki, there you are,” said Kaidou as (Y/N) and Saiki entered Café Mami. Most of their friends were already there. “Usually you’re the first people to Café Mami after school.”

            “They do have the best snacks,” said Yumehara, smiling.

            “I wanted ramen,” said Nendou.

            “You always want ramen,” said Kuboyasu, rolling his eyes.

            “I did a hundred laps of the track today, so I think a nice reward is in order!” said Hairo.

            “I hope they have coffee jelly ready,” said Teruhashi.

            “They better since Saiki is here,” said Miko, laughing.

            “His biggest weakness,” said Toritsuka.

            “Everyone,” said (Y/N), clearing their throat and standing before the table with all their friends. “I—We have something to tell you.”

            Everyone looked at them curiously, and Saiki nearly sighed at all the thoughts running through people’s heads. (Honestly, the number of idiots present who thought (Y/N) and Saiki were going to announce a tragedy or the coming of Dark Reunion was ridiculous). (Y/N) looked at him, and he nodded. (Y/N) took his hand.

            “Kusuo and I…we’re dating.”

            Two words. Two simple words that stopped people’s thoughts. Saiki looked at the group as they stared. And then—smiles. Smiles spread onto people’s faces.

            “Congratulations!”

            Saiki looked at (Y/N) and found them beaming back at him.

            I suppose that wasn’t so disastrous.

            He squeezed their hand.

            Not with them with me.

            “How long have you been together?” asked Kaidou excitedly.

            “Um, a few months,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “And you didn’t tell us, pal?!” said Nendou.

            “It’s none of your business,” said Saiki.

            “I knew,” said Miko proudly.

            “So did I,” said Toritsuka.

            “You weren’t supposed to. You were troublesome,” said Saiki straightforwardly.

            “How did I not notice?!” said Yumehara.

            “Kusuo and I didn’t act much differently than before we were dating,” said (Y/N0.

            “Congratulations, you two. Seriously,” said Kuboyasu, smiling

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N), beaming.

            “You and Saiki are dating?” said Teruhashi, staring at the pair. For months?

            (Y/N) shifted slightly. “Yeah.”

            “I—” A lot of thoughts rushed through her head. All of her feelings spiraled around her. She cleared her throat. “Congratulations.” Still, as people continued to pester (Y/N) and Saiki, she remained silent.

            (Y/N) glanced at Saiki. “Kusuo, is she alright?”

            “She’s confused,” said Saiki directly to their mind.

            “She needs time,” said (Y/N) softly, nodding. They could respect that. They just hoped that amidst all the joy of getting to be honest about their relationship that they wouldn’t lose a friend in the process.

            Saiki didn’t need telepathy to see that (Y/N) was worried. Gently, he reached out and squeezed their hand. “It will be alright.”

            (Y/N) smiled at him. “I hope so.” Losing a friend would be disastrous.

l

            (Y/N) sat down beside Saiki in class. The following day had arrived, and all the clay statues they had been assigned to work on were due. However, (Y/N)’s mind remained firmly on Teruhashi. She was the only person who hadn’t interacted with (Y/N) and Saiki since the announcement of their relationship. Hopefully, it was just that Teruhashi had been working through her feelings. Being disappointed that the boy she had a “crush” on—really her understandable focus on someone who looked at her as a person and not a pretty girl—was in a relationship was valid. (Y/N) wouldn’t fault her for that. But they didn’t want to lose their friend. Telling the truth of their relationship was a necessary step, it had to happen at some point, but they didn’t want to lose people they cared about in the process.

            “Clay work is due today. If you haven’t finished, finish today,” said the teacher.

            Most classmates shifted nervously, definitely too far behind to finish.

            “I’m done,” said Kaidou, raising a hand.

            “Oh, are you, Kaidou?” said the teacher.

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “Because it’s my mission and my fate,” said Kaidou. “Even beautiful angels can suddenly become fallen angels in this world. I made it because I wanted to convey the fear and vulnerability.”

Q: What was the hardest part?

            “I struggled to express the texture of Lucifer’s broken wings,” said Kaidou. “I’m satisfied with the quality.”

Q: What is the title of your artwork?

            “Fallen Lucifer,” said Kaidou.

            Everyone looked at Kaidou’s work. It had the faint carving of a face and a crumbling mess of “wings.”

            “Wow, did you turn in work you dropped on the floor as is?” said Nendou.

            “I didn’t drop it!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “Dropped Lucifer,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) covered their mouth as they giggled.

            “I’m done, too!” said Kuboyasu.

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “I just made what I like,” said Kuboyasu. “That’s all.”

Q: What is the message of your artwork?

            “I have filled it with the dreams of men,” said Kuboyasu, shrugging. “However, some people may feel fear, anxiety, and frustration. Dreams come true because of someone’s sacrifice.”

Q: What is the title of your artwork?

            “Dream,” said Kuboyasu. His sculpture was a very nice looking motorcycle—a little warped but impressive for a high schooler.

            “That’s amazing, Aren!” said Kaidou.

            “Isn’t it? I worked so hard,” said Kuboyasu.

            “The details are so cool,” said (Y/N).

            “Weird title for that,” said Saiki.

            “Place it next to mine,” said Kaidou.

            “Lucifer Run Over,” said Saiki.

            “I’m done, too,” said Nendou.

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “I dunno,” said Nendou. “My hands made it without my will.”

Q: What was the hardest part?

            “There’s a vent blowing cold air directly at my seat,” said Nendou. “That was the hardest part.”

Q: What is the message of your artwork?

            “What do you mean?” asked Nendou. “It’s all up to you.”

            (Y/N) stared at it. It looked like a head with horns. “A demented Darth Maul.”

            Saiki nodded. “He has problems.”

            (Y/N) raised a hand. “I’m finished.”

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “Because it was a school assignment?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

Q: What does it mean to you?

            “I have an obsession with sweets,” said (Y/N). Saiki nodded.

Q: What is the name of your artwork?

            “Cupcakes,” said (Y/N) proudly, gesturing to their sculpture of a few cupcakes on a plate.

            “I’m hungry,” said Saiki.

            “I’m done!” said Hairo, raising his hand.

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “Because I wanted to show my passion for art,” said Hairo.

Q: What was the hardest part?

            “I was working wearing ten-kilogram weights on my arms. That was the hardest part,” said Hairo.

Q: What is the message of your artwork?

            “I made it with the wish of achieving calmness of heart,” said Hairo.

            His statue was perfectly carved Buddha.

            “I called it, ‘Calm!’ ” said Hairo.

            “It’s so Hairo,” said Saiki.

            “Definitely,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m, like, done!” said Miko.

Q: Why did you make this artwork?

            “Dunno, it was an assignment,” said Miko.

Q: What was the hardest part?

            “I don’t like to work hard, so I just enjoyed making it,” said Miko.

Q: What is the message of your artwork?

            “Who cares?” said Miko casually.

            She had, of course, bedazzled her sculpture.

            “I thought we could only use clay,” said Saiki.

            “I’m done,” announced Teruhashi.

Q: Why did you make artwork?

            “The title is ‘Wish,’ ” said Teruhashi. She paused and glanced at (Y/N) as she spoke. “I made it wishing that every student at PK Academy gets the friends they deserve so that they can overcome any problems by helping one another.”

            Her sculpture was of two people holding hands with their arms raised. Saiki noted with interest that one looked feminine while the other was more androgynous.

            “Wow, you’re amazing, Teruhashi!” cried the class. “Let us take a closer look at it! And become close to me!”

            Teruhashi smiled but did take a step back. She set the statue down, and people crowded around to look at it.

            “Class, hand in your pieces,” said the teacher.

            All the boys held up their art—attempts at carving Teruhashi’s face. She stared at the, frankly, creepy creations.

            “This is terrible!” cried her classmates, seeing how they were unable to capture Teruhashi’s beauty.

            Teruhashi sweat-dropped as she watched her own face get shattered into a million pieces.

            Oh, wow… thought (Y/N), wincing.

            Yare yare, thought Saiki. They’re idiots.

            “Saiki, you’re up,” said the teacher.

            Oh, it’s my turn at last. Saiki put down a carved coffee jelly.

            Well, what else did we expect? thought (Y/N), grinning.

l

            “(Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) paused as they walked towards the door of the classroom. “Yeah, Kokomi?” Teruhashi stood behind them.

            “I…” Teruhashi shifted. She had never been shy or uncertain before, but she cleared her throat nervously. “I wanted to talk. About you and Saiki.”

            (Y/N) paused. “Okay.”

            “I want to say that I’m…I’m happy for you,” said Teruhashi. She smiled slightly. “Really, I am. You two have always been close. I should have known.”

            “Kokomi—”

            “I’m going to respect your relationship,” said Teruhashi. “I…I like Saiki. But you’re my friend. That’s more important than crushes.”

            (Y/N) smiled softly. “Right.”

            “So I’m going to get over him.” Teruhashi smiled. “Because our friendship is important to me.”

            “It’s important to me, too,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “And Kokomi, you deserve a relationship with someone who values you who for who you are. Really. I’m rooting for you.” They took Teruhashi’s hands and squeezed encouragingly.

            Teruhashi smiled shyly, her cheeks turning pink. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) hugged her, and Teruhashi stiffened in surprise before hugging back. They were going to be alright.

l

            “Is everything alright?” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) smiled at him as they headed out of the school. “Of course. I mean, you heard us talking.” They knew he had the psychic abilities to.

            “She’s going to move on,” said Saiki.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N). “We’re still friends; you and I are together. We’re okay.” They looped their arm with Saiki’s and kissed his cheek. Everything was alright.

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[gallusrostromegalus]

Do you have any plans for what happens with Urahara's shop once Aizen is dealt with? I mostly ask cus the other day I binged the AIEWAM tag, then had a dream about the Shinigami using it as a base of operations in Karakura. I don't know if that is likely, or plausible, but it was fun to picture random shinigami doing customer service.

No that's more or less what happens to it!

After Aizen is dealt with, Urahara is facing some pretty significant personal problems: his rejection by the 12th division, being pregnant with his first child (and Yoruichi's nervous breakdown of impending parenthood) and Nihofornia's National Tax Agency finally catching up to him. As a shinigami, Urahara is aware of the many ways to shimmy around death, but there is no certainty like Taxes.

It's Don Kanonji, the most reasonable and level-headed adult in the whole damn fic, who proposes the solution: between his careers of swimsuit model, UN Translator, exorcist and fashion designer, Don is also a Certified Accountant. After going over she shoebox full of miscellaneous receipts and assorted Papers That Might Be Important, Don negotiates a deal with the tax agency around Kisuke's dubious status as a citizen and even more dubious bookkeeping: kisuke will sell the business to someone with a real social security number and pay up a large percentage of the staggering amount of money he owes in exchange for being allowed to rent the building from the new owners and continue his path to legitimate citizenship and no further financial chicanery.

"Okay, but who's going to pony up the cash? I don't have that kind of money!" Kisuke wails, fully in the grip of second-trimester hormone swings.

"Urahara-san. Kisuke. Sandalhat. Buddy. Pal." Ichigo's classmate Keigo sighs, fondly patting the man on the shoulders as he sat down on the couch beside Urahara. "We're friends, right?"

"We're people who know each other's home addresses." Kisuke sniffles.

"Close enough!" Mizuiro waves, sitting down on Urahara's other side. "-and you're former second division, real cloak-and-dagger stuff. So you know that sometimes it's best to not ask so many questions, right?"

Kisuke frowned with growing suspicion. "I might have been..."

"Great! All you need to do is make Tessai clean out the garage, turn the paperwork over to me and Mizuiro, keep an ear on the line to soul society, and focus on getting this place ready for your little bundle of joy-" Keigo smiled, gesturing around the decidedly bachelor padded living room.

"-and don't worry about where this came from!" Mizuiro chirped happily, hefting a large briefcase onto the table with a loud thud that popped open the lid, revealing a frankly alarming amount of cash inside.

"I'm worrying." Kisuke grimaced.

"We very specifically requested the opposite of that." Keigo pouted.

"That's at least thirty grand in there." Don remarked with a casual glance at the carefully packed but decidedly used bills inside.

"There is Thirty-one thousand, two hundred seventy-eight point oh-six Troyen, which is exactly two and a half times this shop's discretionary income last year, and a very generous price for the business!" Mizuiro beamed.

"Why can't you guys use a normal currency like Kan?" Kisuke pouted, trying to do conversion rates in his head.

"Well for one thing, fiat currency is a hell of a lot better than anything based on the value of rice." Keigo nodded. "Though it is kinda stupid that we didn't update the name after we went off the gold standard during world war three."

"There was a third world war?" Kisuke yelped.

"A cold one, back in the eighties. You didn't notice were busy making sure Isshin and Masaki Kurosaki didn't implode." Tessai called from the kitchen.

"Oh." Urahra mumbled.

"Look, it's really quite simple- you'll go on basically as you have been with the candy shop-" Mizuiro smiled with the soothing demeanor of an unexpected adder. "-only I'll be your landlord and Keigo will be your manager!"

Urahra stared blankly at the boys, then looked up at Don Kanonji, who was reading over the contents of the file folder Mizuiro had handed him when the boys came in. "...That can't possibly be legal, right?"

"Hm?" Don hummed, looking up over his glasses. "Oh, yes. The government would really prefer a check but cash is perfectly legal tender to settle all debts with."

"But they're kids!" Kisuke gestured hysterically between them.

"Okay, Mizuiro might be babyfaced but he turned eighteen last spring and I'll be an adult by the time we turn in all this paperwork in April." Keigo groaned.

"And- and this is clearly Mob Money!" Urahara continued, waving at the briefcase of cash.

"Mister Urahara! I would NEVER-!" Mizuiro gasped with great offense. "I'll have you know all this money came from Perfectly Legitimate Enterprises!" He sniffed, arms crossed and lip pouting.

"That's the name of the Mobile Tech Support business Mizu and I have been running since freshman year!" Keigo beamed. "Makes a good packet, you wouldn't believe the kind of tips the old biddies will give a Nice Young Man in a Smart Uniform who scrapes malware off her online mahjong machine!"

Urahara stared at them blankly, gaze slowly tipping down to the briefcase full of money. "I should learn how to use living world computers."

"NO." Every single person in the building, including the shop kids and Ichigo, who had been passed out under the table after training, but was stirred to consciousness by an impending sense of danger before passing out again.

"Killjoys." Urahra muttered, sulking under his hat.

"Regardless, its a perfectly legal and honestly very generous offer for this heap, and as your financial advisor, I urge you to take it." Don Kanonji glared over his glasses at Urahara.

"So what, you boys get a cut of the candy money and rent? Cause that ain't much of a savvy deal on your end. This place runs at a debt."

"Oh no, you can keep the candy revenue and I'll only ask for enough rent to cover utilities." Mizuiro smiled. "What we want is a cut of your commission as a licensed Gotei-13 outlet contractor!"

"...But I'm not a contractor?" Urahara blinked.

"...Do you just. Not read things before you sign them?" Keigo glared.

"Yeah, you're not just in hock to the NTA, the Soul Revenue Service is after you too for running a fake Gotei-13 service center, and bailing on a century's worth of filings by faking your death." Mizuiro frowned at him with concern. "So e of those papers you signed when you resumed your identity and job as captain- however briefly were the result of Captain Kyoraku cutting you one HELL of a parole deal with the SRS, but the agreement was that Urahara Shoten would be the base of operations for ALL the shinigami operating in Karakura, under the direct supervision and control of the Gotei-13 and he sure wasn't stingy with the budget he gave you! Well. The budget he gave me and Keigo to spend since I'd be the property owner and Keigo would be the business owner."

"Aaaand since you also signed the soul society official secrets agreement, it's not like you can ask someone else to buy you out from the NTA, so not only are we your best offer, we're your ONLY offer!" Keigo grinned.

Urahra stared at them blankly. "You've set me up." He mumbled.

"You sent yourself up for this when you failed to do your due diligence when signing contracts." Don Kanonji corrected him, pulling some documents out of the folder and signing them, before pushing them across the table. "Please actually read these before you si- you've already signed them." Don Kanonji groaned as Urahara slapped the pen back down on the table with spite.

"Fine, fine- I guess I'm back to following orders instead of giving them. What do you want, Boss?" He glared at Keigo.

"Put your feet up and finish putting together that gift list for the baby shower." Keigo nodded. "We weren't kidding that your first priority is getting this place ready for baby... Does it have a name yet?"

"...No." Kisuke wilted despondently. "Yoruichi still isn't answering my texts!"

"Hm." Keigo nodded. "Okay, put your feet up, finish that baby shower list and think of a name for the little rugrat. Just leave the rest to us for now!"

"You guys are good kids." Kisuke smiled weakly.

"Would you be willing to make a sworn statement to that effect, so we can have it on file for any future HR disputes?" Mizuiro smiled.

"Absolutely goddamn not." Kisuke glared.

[chronicgoonette]

freaky visitation😈

this is my first work so bear w me, im on an hour of sleep and ovulating !!smutty!!

(inspired by baphmochii)

interested in the 'sally face killer' case, you'd decided to start writing letters to the culprit himself, sal fisher, you'd assumed he'd never even receive them due to the poor justice system and were pleasantly surprised when a letter was finally addressed back to you, from the prison, in his name.

after months of writing back and forth you'd managed to find a free day in your schedule and planned to stop by, though your letters between the two of you were innocent and he was a murderer you couldn't help but feel a tad interested in him, truthfully what other man would ever bother to write you, with such passion and care nonetheless? maybe the bar was set low but you'd seen those mugshots, killer or not you'd tap.

you'd watched the footage of his conviction and trial countless times, even if he did seem to be a bit of a nut he wasn't dangerous, was he? what did it matter? dick is dick.

you put on your best little get up the day you'd decided to visit the local prison, determined to look pretty for him, though you'd managed to convince yourself you'd done it purely for you and no man, wouldn't want to seem easy or desperate for it.

you'd spent some time at the store prior, grabbing a variety of different hygiene products, after all it's ridiculous inmates are made to pay for rinky dink versons of basic necessities, or atleast that's what you'd use as an excuse when it came time to face your little pen pal.

gathering his gifts from the passenger seat of your car you walked into the prison, making it through the metal detector and search, receiving your little stamp, you passed the goods you bought off to an officer to be processed through to sal's commissary, considering he had been on good behavior you were able to speak to him.

after a bit of a wait you were escorted to a large room with multiple large metal tables about, a lengthy pane of glass in the center of each to prevent anything brash, though they were practically irrelevant considering you could simply reach around the glass.

you spotted him immediately, it'd be pretty difficult missing his electric blue hair, a female guard escorted you over and sat you across from him before she left, there was only one guard left on standby and he looked about ready to pass out, sitting on an uncomfortable looking couch against the opposite wall, no fellow inmates were present, only you, sal, and that tired looking guard.

"hi" you smiled at him, you were out of place, too happy for a shitty rundown prison such as this, and he knew you'd be dead meat left alone in a room full of prisoners who hadn't had any proper contact with a woman in a hot minute, especially when clad in such clothing.

"..who are you?" he paused, voice muffled and tired behind the mask he wore "why are you here?" he continued, peering at you, he didn't seem threatening with his forward questioning, just curious.

you simply beamed at him, god did he look so much better in person- "im your pen pal- like the one you've been writing to since last july?- well you probably get a lotta letters so-" you rushed, nervous to be finally meeting him, though not because he was scary, because you wanted him.

"no, no i remember you" he replied with a flat voice, you were giddy at that, in all honesty you were crushing on him.. hard, but you brushed it off as too much caffeine or an empty stomach.

you were quick to reply with "that's nice, im really glad to finally meet you!", you tried to tone it down, not to sound too excited, what was he thinking? someone so young and pretty sitting right in front of him, biceps pushing their full tits together, unconsciously giving him a show while admiring him, sal fisher, a killer?

he was admittedly a little alarmed, he liked the attention but it also mildly concerned him, sure, he'd been writing to you for months but it seemed as if you idolized him, that was surely unhealthy.

"why do you seem so excited?" he asked, tone hesitant and guarded, truthfully you didn't even know yourself, things became a little hot and you were acutely aware of your surroundings, his lack of cuffs, the guard that was now passed out on the couch, you two had no supervision and as you looked around there wasn't a single sign of a security camera.

you stammered, getting a tad flustered, your chest felt hot and your face felt itchy, "well- i.. im not trying to be weird, y'know, it probably seems like im one of those people who romanticize murderers and all but i just feel like we've really bonded overtime, and i believe you, what with all that demon, curse and cult talk" you confessed, avoiding his harsh gaze

"i had to do it" he commented softly, the harsh lighting above was just dim enough for you to barely be able to make out his eyes, that was a plus for him considering they were trained on your tits, he'd never labeled himself a pervert prior, even when he was a teenager and at his hormonal peak he wasn't this bad, but after years of depravation regarding contact with females he was admittedly a little tweaked... and god was he pent up.

"i believe you" you repeated, peering at him, he was physically intimidating, especially in the low, yellow lighting, but you had the letters to prove he was a sweetheart, your eyes traveled back to the guard who was passed out, head tilted back and mouth wide open, snoring faintly, then you looked back to him, the guard cant prohibit physical contact if he's not awake, now can he?

you hesitated before beginning "can i hug you?", you requested softly, he'd have to play it cool, he was aware of that, but he wanted it.

with a nod of his consent you both stood, though he was only 5'6 at most it felt as if he towered over you, he didn't open his arms very wide but you eagerly pressed to him, hugging him tightly, he didn't smell pleasant whatsoever but it was still arousing, that was for certain.

it was an awkwardly long hug and his heavy, harsh breaths beneath the mask didn't help to make it any better, you were ready to pull back when you felt it, a nudge against your tummy, thick and slightly firm, looking down for confirmation of what you thought it was you could make out the outline of him in his rough, tattered orange uniform.

he was well aware of where your eyes were trained, he knew you knew what you did to him, internally panicking he was ready to pull away, that being until your soft hand ventured to gently nudge him through the scabrous orange material.

the sound he made was like music to your ears, a song you couldn't stop binge-listening, so you grabbed him this time, tightly, peering up at him for further guidance

"this is what you came here for?" he quipped, though it didn't sound as if he meant it in a rude manner, "the guard's asleep, just let me touch you, please?" you requested simply, your questioning tone was endearing, it felt nice to finally be in control, rather than being ordered around he was the one making the calls.

he wanted it, even if he acted indifferent, he'd been touch starved, provided with barely any privacy to get himself off, and here stood before him was an admirer, eager to please and so very pretty, "need you take so long?" he retorted, his snide comment may have sounded slightly rude but really he was just desperate, so hard it hurt.

glancing right back over at the guard you huffed softly through your nose before sinking down to your knees, peering up at him for the go ahead with wide innocent eyes, you made him feel bad, but how could he stay feeling so guilty when you were offering yourself up? once he nodded you slid your fingers beneath his waistband, gradually revealing a thickening trail of coarse blue hair.

once having finally pried the pants of his orange jumpsuit down to rest around his thick thighs, adorned in fuzzy blue hair, you pinned his thick cock against his pudgy tummy, tip drooling against his orange top, finding confidence you kitten licked the underside of his uncut tip, tension slipping from your body once you heard his soft mewl of pleasure.

"that's it... dont tease now" he huffed from beneath the mask, blue eyes trained on you as you nodded, drawling the thick head of his achy length into your warm mouth, your worries of being caught were eased when you heard a loud snore from the officer stationed to monitor your visit.

it was a tight fit though you managed to get about half of him in your mouth before gagging, pulling back to compose yourself you sucked in a deep breath, spitting on him and pumping it over him, you could see him getting antsy, hips bucking ever so slightly, with newfound vigor you swallowed him down in one painful gulp which clearly pleased him, you could gauge as much judging by the sound he let out, that of which he was quick to muffle.

things were hazy, all you could really focus on was the incessant throbbing in your sopping cunt, you were getting sloppy though still desperate to please, what you couldn't fit you had in your hand, though as much as you had to give it just didn't seem to suffice and before long his large hands were in your hair, fingers latched in your roots as he guided you, slowly at first with a hint of gentleness, but that quickly ended when you boldly decided to reach up to cup his painfully full balls, then he was slamming you down onto his dripping cock only to pull you back and do it again, could you really blame him though?

you were fighting to keep your gagging to a minimum as to not alert the officer on standby but that was useless with the way he was using you, muttering out praises as broken whimpers escaped him.

with the rough throat fucking and the lack of air you could barely make out his rushed warning, that of which being "m' close, you better swallow- please swallow?- please?", you nodded mindlessly though you weren't even sure what you were agreeing to.

all it took was one light squeeze of his balls and he was spilling down your throat, biting his lip behind the mask... or what was left of it, fighting to keep quiet, after about a minute he released your hair of his tight grip and you nearly fell back, choking slightly on the thick, warm cum dripping down the back of your throat, after a few gulps you had it down, sticking your tongue out to show him what a good job you had done, teary eyed as you sat before him.

"holy shit.." he muttered, out of breath, grinning a little beneath his prosthetic, fixing his trousers up and watching as you rose to your feet, a few words were exchanged and the two of you were sat back at the table before the guard awoke, still dazed from sleep he announced that the time for visitation was up and you best be on your way, to that you nodded.

on your way to the door you couldn't help but turn around and watch as the guard fixed cuffs around his thick wrists.

you think murderers get bail?

vro i wrote a novel im so sorry😭 just remembered i wrote this now im embarrassed

[temporarywelcome]

Drunk - Leon Kennedy

Words: 2.3k

Summary: (set not long after the Raccoon City Incident) Leon is busy being sad at the bar, shocked to finally see a familiar face.

CW: alcohol consumption, also written by someone who doesn't know anything about alcohol consumption lol, language, I headcanon Leon did football in high school.

_____

It was safe to say the life of Leon Kennedy was absolute ass. 

His life pretty much just started too, finally graduating the police academy and given the opportunity to live out his dream as a police officer. Which didn’t work out. Big zombie-virus outbreak and all. 

Being forced to work for the US government was not on his bucket list. He was honestly ready to move to a small town with a population of, like, a thousand people, and be an officer there. No drama. Just sitting in a police cruiser looking for traffic violations. After everything that happened at Racoon City, he was in need of a boring life. 

The US government had different plans. 

And he hated it. 

So, there he was, at his favorite place ever now since moving to Washington D.C…. this bar filled to the brim with sad bikers and businessmen. A strange mix, but the drunken stories he heard were always interesting. At least, in his own drunken mind. 

Tonight, the usual cast was there. Tony, this biker who was always getting into troubles with his ol’ lady (and the mob), Juan, another biker who felt ever so lonely due to never being able to find a woman, and Don, a guy who worked at this tech company who felt bad for constantly cheating on his wife. 

Leon did not like Don. 

But he took his seat with them, the small group taking turns detailing their woes and despair as they drank their beers. Tony’s ol’ lady wanted him to leave his motorcycle club. Juan had a date who stood him up. Don had gone fifteen days not cheating on his wife, but was getting “urges”. 

“Why don’t you just get a divorce already?” Leon had asked gruffly, taking a large swig of his drink, “You obviously don’t like your wife. Let the poor woman go, she deserves better,” 

“No no no,” the older man shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. What was left of it. He was beginning to bald, a large patch of hair already long gone. “I love her, I do. I just have to control these urges.”

Weirdo. 

Leon bit his tongue. He thought cheaters were scum. He thought Don was scum. But he did not want to lose a drinking buddy. No matter how gross Leon thought this guy was. 

Don opened his mouth to say something else, pausing when he very noticeably craned his head past Leon’s shoulder, looking past not just him, but Tony and Juan as well. “Shit. It’s so hard to control myself. That woman is a beauty,”

“Don, are you serious?” Tony rolled his eyes in disgust. Leon was sure none of them really liked this guy. “Is this chronic or something? How the hell-”

As soon as Leon turned his head in curiosity, he wasn’t listening. The bickering of his drinking pals was background noise as his eyes landed on the woman Don was eyeing. The most beautiful woman Leon has ever seen in his twenty-two years of living. 

His fucking high school crush. 

Y/N. The stereotypical popular girl. A cheerleader who dated this football player. Homecoming and prom queen. Popular, but also incredibly smart and kind and just so perfect. Leon was a football player himself back in high school, and was actually friends with her boyfriend. So he never dared make a move on her. He respected his friend too much. 

Last he heard, Y/N and her boyfriend had broken up. Not because of anything malicious, but they were going to different universities and didn’t want to do long distance. Respectable reasoning. Considering how much of a wonderful woman Y/N was, Leon was sure she was seeing someone else right now. 

But then… why would she be by herself at a bar? 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking straight in front of him. An array of different liquors and bottles of alcohol lined up neatly on shelves. Yes, yes, he will look at that. 

“God,” Don groaned dramatically, head going into his hands, “She’s gorgeous,”

“She's too young for you,” Leon interjected immediately, suddenly feeling quite protective over Y/N, as if he were in high school again. The girl he always stared at from across the classroom, across the lunch table, across the street. They were fucking neighbors.

Always being around her, but not being able to have her was complete torture. 

“Girls love older men,” 

He rolled his eyes, “Not her,”

“How would you know?” Now the older man was getting annoyed, gesturing for the bartender to get him another bottle of beer. 

“Um, just a feeling,” Leon took this as a chance to get his third bottle, politely thanking the bartender. “She just doesn’t look like the type-”

“-Leon?”

Ohhhh shit. He didn’t need to turn around to figure out who the owner of that melodic voice was. Who was the owner of that sweet sound he used to hear every day for four years straight. He knew right away. 

“Oh!” he tried to play it cool as he turned around to face her, “Y/N! You live in D.C. now?” 

Juan was the first of his little friend group to speak, “You know her?” Why did he sound so shocked Leon knew a gorgeous woman? To be fair, Leon did constantly complain about loneliness. The whole point of this little group was to complain about their sad, lonely lives. 

“Yeah!” Leon tried to hide his excitement, hide the joy he felt seeing her. Playing cool completely flew out the window as soon as she smiled at him. It was that easy. “We knew each other in high school!” 

“It’s so nice to see you, especially right now,” Y/N groaned, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

Damn, he didn’t realize how much he needed that. A hug. A familiar face. 

Comfort. 

“What happened?” his arms went around her waist tightly, bringing her against him. Practically on his lap, but he was feeling rather typsy and didn’t think much of it. 

“Ooh, you worked out a lot,” she ignored the question, poking at his bicep, “You’re so much bigger than I remember!”  Her words made his cheeks flush red, and she continued: “Oh, and I’m here because I’ve been broken hearted and in need of getting drunk. You?”

“Well, I’m here because I’m incredibly lonely and in need of getting drunk,” With a grin, he stood up, hands still placed boldly on her hips, “How about we get ourselves a table?” He faced his drinking buddies, who were all looking at him in confusion (Tony), sadness (Juan), and jealousy (Don), “I’ll see you guys around,” 

Slipping his hands from her hips, one took hold of her own, leading her to an empty table. “Thanks,” she said with a small giggle, taking a seat. 

“What would the lady like to drink?” 

“Shots,” she replied right away.

And so he got them some shots, sitting across from her. “Together?” 

Her eyes brightened, “Okay!” She took a glass in her hand, waiting for him to do the same. When he did, she began to count down, “Okay, on three. One… two… three!” 

Together, they both downed their drinks. 

“God, I really need to get shit-faced,” she grumbled, placing down the glass, “Can I vent?”

“Vent away, babe,” He would never call her that in any other instance, but with the alcohol in his system, he wasn’t exactly thinking straight. 

“Okay,” she said okay a lot, “I was dating this guy, right? In law school, promising guy. Supported my career goals, he had his own. Wanted to be a senator one day. Good shit, right? Good shit till I came to his place to find him fucking around with some chick. And get this, we looked alike too! Well, I didn’t really get much of a look at her when I was throwing punches,” 

His jaw dropped, “What? How could someone cheat on you? You’re like… perfection!” he was acting much more dramatic than usual, splaying his arms around expressively, “But… did the other girl know she was the other woman?”

“I’m pretty sure, considering she was laughing at me when I walked in. Made me more pissed. Made me want to beat her ass even more,” she grabbed another shot glass, “Again?”

“Again!” Leon confirmed, grabbing his. 

After they drank their other shot, she continued, “Can’t believe I wasted my time on this guy. No offense, but why is your kind,” she wiggled her fingers at him, “so nasty,” 

He shrugged, “I haven’t been in a relationship in over a year. I haven’t been nasty,”

“Were you nasty before that?” she teased. 

“Wha- no! I’m not like that,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I pride myself in being a respectable and loyal man-”

“-I’m just playin’ with ya,” Y/N laughed, “I remember how you treated that one girl you dated junior year. Like she was a queen! It was so sweet,” 

Now he was blushing again, scratching the back of his neck and refusing to meet her gaze. “Ah, jeez, thank you. I just did what I was supposed to as a boyfriend. Anything less would have been completely stupid. Why date someone if I’m not gonna give them my all?” 

“See, that’s how everyone should look at dating,” Y/N nodded in approval, “How everyone… yeah. Yeah, right. Hm,” She grabbed her last glass, not even waiting for him before bringing it to her lips. 

“Only three shots and you’re already acting funny,” he teased, leaning forward and fucking booping her nose. “Silly. Silly billy,” 

“I’m only tipsy,” she swatted his hand away, but he just chuckled and booped her again. “You’re drunk,” 

“I think so,”

“I know so,” 

“Yeah yeah yeah, smartypants,” he reached for his third glass, but she stopped him. “Heyyyy,”

“No more for you, buddy,” She smirked, taking the drink herself. 

“Heyyyy,” he repeated, “That was mine!”

“Too late. In my stomach now,” 

“Ughhh,” he laid his head onto the table, forehead pressed against the cold surface, “My driiiiiink,” he began mumbling to himself before raising his head again, “My drink,”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N waved the thought off in disinterest, “So, I said why I was here. What brings you to a bar, Kennedy?” 

He looked away, trying to remember why he was even there in the first place, “Oh! Oh, yes. Sad. I was very sad,” he replied, “It’s really lonely here. I have no actual friends. No girlfriend. Haven’t had a family in years,” 

“No girlfriend? How? Look at you now! Even better than in high school!” 

Shrugging, he began tapping his fingers on the table nervously. He was used to talking to Tony, Juan, and Don about his troubles, not his high school crush! “I’ve been busy with work.”

“Are you living that police officer dream of yours?” 

“No,” Leon remembered the beer he never even finished, snatching it up before Y/N could realize what he was doing, and taking a long swig, “Was an officer for a day,” 

“A day!” she exclaimed, “What happened?”

“I was an officer in Raccoon City,” 

That was all he needed to say for it to dawn on her what had happened to him. “...Raccoon City?” she said slowly, “Oh my God! You survived that big explosion?! I thought there were no survivors!”

“Of course-” he paused. Yes, he was drunk, but he knew the rules. The things he had to lie about to keep Sherry safe. The fact he admitted he was at Raccoon City during the Incident was already a mistake on its own. “Um, the only survivor. Yeah.”

“I didn’t see it on the news or anything-”

“-Because everyone needs to think there were no survivors,”

“Oh…” she took the hint, clearing her throat awkwardly. “No survivors. I don’t want to mysteriously vanish because I knew something I shouldn’t, so, back to your loneliness. No hot women at, uh, wherever you work at now?”

“No,”

“That’s a shame,” 

He hummed softly, propping his elbow up and resting his chin on his hand, staring at her. Analysing her. Drinking in every inch of the woman he used to be oh-so in love with. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I always thought so,” 

“Oh, Leon!” she laughed, cheeks rosy as she playfully hit his arm, “You’re so drunk,”

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful. I don’t need alcohol in my system to think so,” he insisted, before downing the last of his beer. He then let out a childish giggle, getting up from his seat.

“Where are you-?” she didn’t even have time to question him, the dirty blonde plopping down next to her and laying his head in her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Hmmmmm,” he nuzzled his nose against her stomach, eyes fluttering shut. He had long lashes. What was with men and having the prettiest lashes imaginable? “Cuddling,”

“In a bar?”

“Mhmmmmm,” he nodded softly, “You’re my girlfriend now,” 

“Well, Leon, I don’t think it works that way,” she laughed, trying to resist the urge to just run her fingers through his hair and- she failed. Reaching out, her fingers tangled in the thick strands, combing out the blonde locks gently. “You didn’t even ask me out on a date!”

He pouted, eyes snapping open. Two globes of cerulean making contact with her. “Go out on a date with me then,” 

A sad smile formed on her lips, pushing some hair from his annoyingly handsome face, “You’re drunk, Leon,” 

“And? I still wanna go out with you,” he began poking at her cheek, “Say yes,”

“Or what?” Y/N teased gently, poking his cheek back. 

“I don’t know. I’ll die,” 

“Hm,” gripping his wrist to stop the annoying pokes to her cheek, she rested his palm against her cheek, “You’re probably not even going to remember this in the morning, but, yes, I’ll go out with you,” 

_____

Where's everyone going? :( Bingo? :(