#it also doesn’t have an exam. which is certainly a good thing.

[apricityxoxo]

Help and Care

✧.* Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

✧.* wc 5,786 (teheeheee)

✧.* summary: he definitely didn't need help, he doesn't need someone to care for him. no one has ever helped him before, and no one ever cared so why would they start now. he doesn't care, he definitely doesn't need help. so why does he keep ending up in the infirmary with the beautiful nurse? and why does he keep coming back to you?

✧.* contents: fluff, a bit of angst, and a sprinkle of suggestive dialogue

here's the whole story! it took me a while but I hope you all enjoy it, sorry I'm a perfectionist. I had a lot of fun writing this but let me know what you all think. i might write a pt 2 to this idk. Also pls excuse the medical and military inaccuracies

enjoy

Help. He hates help. He can’t stand it. When others look at him, when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see himself as someone dependent on others. Why else would he enlist, he didn’t need help, he learned that the hard way. No one ever helped him and he adjusted, so why would he need help now? People are dependent on him; they rely on him. When someone is injured, scared, or dead it’s up to him to fix the situation, to solve the problems of others, to carry the fallen.

When Price told him to go to the nurse he was upset, actually, he was pissed. He was not a child who scraped his knee playing football at school. He was a soldier; he was more than a mere man. He knew how to endure, he knew how to carry his weight, and he knew that he didn’t need to see the nurse. He knew what was wrong with him, he just bruised his ribs. He didn’t need some old woman with a bad attitude to tell him what he already knew.

He endured and he resisted the pain for exactly two weeks, but the pain was only getting worse. He was confused and didn’t know what to do, he hoped that no one had noticed and he didn’t want people to start. He didn’t want questions or concerns, he wanted relief and nothing more.

He thought no one would notice and he was so wrong.

Training.

Simon hated training the new recruits, they were cocky and they didn’t know their place. They thought after joining and passing the initial physical exams, they were done.

They were most definitely not done. They needed to adjust, physically and mentally, to fit in. Many people think the initial physical and mental exams are where new recruits break, no they break here, during training…with him. He hated it but knew why Price asked him to do it.

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Price usually did rounds during training, he watched the recruits and the techniques of the other task forces. The smell of sweat, dirt, and blood filled his system and that smell drew his attention to Ghost. Today he felt the need to check on Ghost and see how he was doing. Ghost was a good teacher even though he didn’t realize this, Price did though.

Ghost was mean, harsh, and disciplined, and the people he taught tended not to last long, however, the ones who did turn out to be great because the one thing that Ghost teaches best is endurance.

When Price was watching him train, he started to get upset and confused. This was most definitely different from the big and bad Ghost he was used to. He thought at first that "maybe Ghost was pulling his punches?" When he paired Ghost up to train some of the rookies, he thought maybe Simon was finally going soft.

Usually after training, the rookies would be sore, and in pain, sometimes they might even need to be excused to nurse. However, these past few weeks the rookies have been surprisingly...fine. Maybe even better than fine and it's been making them cocky, it's boosted some of their egos.

It would probably boost his ego too, Price chuckled. If he were to beat the big, brutal, scary Ghost while still a rookie. However, they are starting to get obnoxious because they are taunting and boasting, which is certainly something that Price could not have. It was starting to piss him off. Price was going to tell Ghost that if he didn’t put these pricks in line, there were going to be consequences.

That was the plan, but then he took a closer look and that’s when he saw it.

He saw the way that Ghost taking more hits than normal, he was slow to react and he was even slower to respond. His stance was off as well, usually his form made him feel like a giant among men but now he looked like he was shrinking himself, like it was his first day of training. Ghost wasn’t pulling his punches, he wasn't holding back, he was weak.

Now he was pissed.

Price knew.

Price knew exactly why Ghost wasn’t as strong as he usually is, why his punches aren’t as powerful as they normally are. Ghost was a disobedient bastard and Price was pissed.

“STOP! That’s enough training for today, soldiers.”

“Ghost, come now!”

“Yes, Captain” Ghost replied in his thick Manchester accent.

“The hell is wrong with you Lieutenant!”

“Nothin' Capt’n, I'm just-”

“You’re just hurt, did you go to the nurse?” Price knew the answer.

“I didn’t feel the need to go to the medical facility Capt’n”

“You didn’t feel the need to go?” Price asked Simon and looked at him like he was crazy. Since when did his soldiers feel the need for an opinion?

“If you don’t get your ass to the medical facility right now, you’re going to be training these pricks for three months straight. You understand?”

“Yessir!”

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Unbelievable!

He doesn’t need to be here. As he walks to the nurse’s offices, he feels everyone's eyes on him. He’s rarely ever here and because of that it draws the eye, lots of them. He thanked his balaclava every day because without it, based on the face he was making, some might think he was actually nervous.

He doesn’t want some old hag telling him what to do and degrading him for not coming sooner. Some old nurse or doctor telling him everything he already knows just to insult him and show off their vast vocabulary just to try and make him feel small. that’s what they all do, that’s what his father did.

He approaches the front desk and the older woman tells him to go to office number 222. He makes his way over, navigating the hallways,  and he finds the office. The sign is decorated with small pink flowers and a white cat with a red bow. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Before he goes and knocks on the door, he dries his palms on his pants, desperately hoping to get over this.

Knock-knock.

Some time passed but then he heard a soft voice say…

“Come on in”

He opened the door and he was surprised that the soft voice matched a beautifully soft face. A face with beautifully unique features that worked together in harmony to make the beautiful woman that sat before him.

God damn.

Those were the only words on his mind.

It wasn’t an old woman who looked like she had a chip on her shoulder and carried a deep grudge, nor someone who looked like they were going to insult him… no. definitely not.

It was a young woman.

A beautiful young woman.

A beautiful young woman with the most inviting features. Absolutely gorgeous, he’s never seen a woman this beautiful ever on this base. He feels like she doesn’t belong here, her face is an exact contrast to the environment he surrounds himself every day. He has a million questions he wants to ask her, and he feels the strong urge to get closer to her. He’s such a creep. He doesn’t even know her name.

He feels his mouth goes dry and his hands sweat. Gross. He hasn’t felt this way since Secondary School, he feels like a dork and he doesn’t know what is wrong with him.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you!” Her voice was cheery and if he was a little bit more nervous, he wouldn’t notice the shock on her face and the tremble in her voice. He was used to that reaction; it was probably due to his appearance. her voice matched her face and he felt his heart beat faster, he finally was going to die.

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He was just staring at you, he was just looking. You’ve heard rumors of him, of his personality. The big bad Ghost, the professional killer who lacks mercy for anyone. He was just staring at you and it was freaking you out. What’s wrong with him, why is he here in the nurse's office? Did he hurt someone? Or worse…

He’s still staring.

“… excuse me, is everything alright?”

“Erm…yeah, sorry” he responded and if your mind weren’t running a mile a minute you would have heard the way he sounded nervous.

He clears his throat and then replies “Captain Price has recommended I take a visit down here.” God his voice was so deep. He was so smooth, he had a thick accent that wasn’t like any of the others you heard on base. His voice was not at all soft but the way he spoke made something bubble inside you. 

Wait. ‘take a visit down here’

Oh. He needed help. 

“Oh… okay sir, what seems to be the problem?” You try your best to put on your customer service voice and hide the fact that you're wondering what this man might need help with. 

“Erm… last deployment I bruised my ribs real bad, don't know how…”

You try to listen, you have to pretend to do so. You're writing as he describes his symptoms. He has stomach pain, difficulty breathing, tenderness in his abdomen, and bruising. He describes his symptoms and you feel so bad for him and at the same time, you feel disgusted in yourself. 

Disgusted because instead of being focused on how he describes his pain, you focused on his attractive ass voice. You can't help it, you're just a girl. 

No, You need to remain a professional.

“Okay Lieutenant Riley, if it's all right with you, I’d like to examine your abdomen.”

“Yeah… that's fine” he sounds hesitant you feel bad… you feel like you need to reassure him.

“Don't worry lieutenant, I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.” you try to reassure him and when you do, you unconsciously give him a soft smile.

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Well, you have to ask him to take off his shirt. That was something that didn't occur to you. He doesn't have to comply, you could do the whole checkup with his shirt on. You hope he doesn't so you save yourself from embarrassment. 

“Sir, if you do not mind, may I ask you to remove your um… t-shirt?” you ask, trying your hardest to remain professional. It's completely reasonable for a medical professional to ask a patient to remove their shirt when they had an abdomen injury.

“You don't necessarily have to I'm sure I can find a way to…”

“I don't mind” Lieutenant Riley cuts you off as he agrees.

He sits on the examination table and removes his shirt.

You think you just died. You are short of breath and you think you died because there's an angel right in front of you. If you were anywhere else you would admire his powerfully built body, but you were more concerned with the bruising on his stomach.

You feel and you touch his body, extremely concerned about his well-being. His stomach was black and blue, his stomach was sore, and he could barely bend over. 

You were worried but also shocked because this man worked and trained in such a condition for about a week. You knew of Simon Riley and you knew of his reputation and this just supported the fact that he's an absolute abled-bodied unit… it was almost scary.

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“I believe you have a few broken ribs…sir.” You say almost scared of his reaction. He needed x-rays, actually he needed time off. 

“I'll recommend you an off-base X-ray Tech to take pictures of your abdomen, I also recommended to your captain that you take time off to heal. After we get your x-rays, I recommend you visit me every two weeks so we can look over your progress ” You tell him, distracted as you look over all your notes.

“Oh ok, every two weeks, and how long will it take to heal…” Luitenent Riley asked, he sounded nervous and you started to feel bad for talking to him so nonchalantly about his condition.

“Um should take about two months to heal. Ribs tend to heal rather quickly, however, since they weren't treated earlier it might take a while longer. Don't worry I’m sure you'll feel better rather quickly.” You try to give him a little bit of comfort. You give Luitenent Riley instructions, stating how to take care of himself and treat his injuries. 

He collects his stuff and is getting ready to leave before he turns around looks you up and meets your eye. 

“Thank you so much luv, ‘preciate it.” He tells you, in a soft accented voice.

“It's not a problem Luitenent.” You tell him and you feel your heart pick up its pace.

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Week 2 

He was supposed to visit today, you were expecting him today. You had all of his notes laid out and you were just waiting. 

Waiting.

Waiting. 

Other patients came and went but you were still looking forward to one specific client. The first time he visited you had no time to admire his large and confident stance when he walked into the room. He walked into the room with utter confidence as if he knew it would have an effect on you.

AND GAHHH LEEE

When he removed his shirt, you don't know how you controlled yourself. You knew he was a big man with a hefty build but you were not expecting what you saw. Your eyes were blessed with a solid, broad-shouldered, athletic man.

The literal definition of manly, if he wasn't in the military you were sure he would be off somewhere chopping wood or something. If you weren't at work you're sure you would be lying in bed kicking your feet.

When he spoke to you he had such a deep and low baritone voice that was heavily accented. You never had a thing for accents but he was something else completely. Low and intimidating, his language was professional but you could tell that he was trying not to curse and use slang. It's embarrassing to think about the things you'd do to hear him, swear or even say your name. In your head you know you’d sound like a rabid dog if he’d said it in that attractive ass voice-

Then you hear your name and think you might die. Actually, it was your last name and your medical title. But still—

It’s him.

He’s here. 

Remain professional! you scream and shout at yourself.

You greet him and try to make small talk, asking him how he’s doing, how he’s feeling, and what he’s been doing with his time off. It's hard, he's such a beefy and attractive man. You can't even see his face but based on just the way he walks, you know he's fine. 

Admittedly, working on this base that’s far away from your home made you forget how to act around an attractive man…

“Been reading too, I'm trying to distract myself. If ya have any recommendations just let me know.” he interrupts your thoughts and you relate to him. It gets boring between deployment he tells.

“What do you usually do between deployments?” you ask, sincerely.

“Train, train myself then train with others.” He replies.

You don’t ask anything else, you know that he must miss training every day. The way he says it makes you feel bad. You know many of the soldiers find solitude when they work on themselves and train. It calms them and helps them recover, it's almost a form of therapy. Simon can't do that, not with his injury. You feel a pang in your chest. 

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You go over his notes and x-rays. You give him a checkup and note that he’s healing rather quickly, based on the other scars you know that this isn’t his worst injury. 

You catch his eyes when you are going over everything with him and explaining your notes to him. He’s looking at you with his golden green eyes, staring you up and down. You feel sort of embarrassed because you don't feel cute at this moment. You didn’t put makeup on in the morning, just gloss on your plumped lip and curled your eyelashes. Your wash day is coming up too so you wrapped your hair in a colorful scar today.

The way he looked at you was the way men would look when you would walk into a club. When you had a full face and your hair was freshly done. When you had a tight and short dress that would accentuate your beautiful curves. When you knew that you looked stunning that's the way he was looking at you, right now.

His visit was finished and you put the date for the next visit in your calendar. Before he leaves he thanks you.

“I don't like doctors but I appreciate all you've done for me, miss.”

“Thank you Luitenenent, if you ever need a book recommendation you can always come see me.”

“Thank you.” He tells you and even though you can't see his face, you feel a smile radiate off him.

You feel like he’s such a kind man.

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Week 4

Today, on his next visit, he’s not as kind.

You know why. You can tell that he's antsy, that he wants to get back to work. He’s rushing the process and wants to do everything you told him not to do. He wants to disregard all the instructions you gave him. You’re used to that, soldiers want to get back to their daily routine and they’re itching to do something strenuous during the healing process.

You would be fine with that if it were not for his shortness with you. He was annoyed and that was completely acceptable but there was no need to be curt and downright rude to you.

His answers were short. After each question, while trying to make small talk he replied with a ‘Mmhmm’. He didn't make eye contact with you and when you would suggest activities for him to try and distract him, he would roll his eyes and brush it off. 

He didn't want to chat and you feel like this is not the same man, who came to visit last time.

Today’s visit was short, there was clearly no need for small talk on his end and no time for the flirting you wanted to do. 

You did yourself up today too and now that you think back at it, it feels like a waste of time. You enjoyed the visit you had with him last time you were looking forward to today's visit. However, that feeling quickly dissipated, when Luitenenent Riley came in with a bad attitude and short tone. You had no time for this today, you think you even returned that same energy. So the visit was short and he left with a slammed door following behind him.

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Lunchtime came around and you were most definitely looking forward to it. After a long day, that wasn't even over, all you wanted to do was eat. You grab your book and sit in your designated corner to eat in the loud cafeteria.

You feel relaxed when you start eating and open up your book. The loud cafeteria with the chatter of men and women surrounds you. It's kind of calming when you think about it. The laughs, small talk, and clattering cutlery fade in the background around you. This is just what you need after such a long and tiresome day. 

You try to focus on your book but then you are interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Is this seat taken?” You glance up from your book, you find him standing there, his presence commanding attention even in the busy room. Lieutenant Riley is looking down at you with a food tray in his hands. He refers to the seat across from you and you shake your head no. You try to avoid eye contact when he sits down, still feeling annoyed from earlier. 

He lifts his balaclava over his mouth and you both eat in silence. There’s a growing tension around you both. 

You eat your food and busy yourself with your book, however you can feel him looking at you. He ate in silence, his eyes occasionally meeting yours before darting away.

It was irritating.

Earlier he was being rude and barely talking to you and now he was acting timid, the audacity. You started to pick up the pace and eat your lunch faster.

Then he interrupted his silence with his deep sultry voice.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was disrespectful to you when you were only trying to help. I'm sorry. I've honestly been sick and tired of sitting around and doing nothing that I took out my anger on you and for that, I apologize.” It sounded like he practiced this. It makes you smile thinking about the Ghost practicing an apology in the mirror. You can just imagine him practicing and it warms your heart that he put this much energy into an apology.

“Thank you for your apology.” You reply in a soft voice.

There was silence for a while but it was interrupted by your voice.

“Um…I know it's hard, not being able to do the things you used to be able to do. I'm sure soon you will be able to get back to your routine and do everything that you want to do… and more. If You need to talk to someone, you can always come and see me. ” You tell him, a bit timidly. All you want to bring comfort to him and reassure him.

“Thank you,” he replies.

“No problem Luitenent” you respond.

“Call me, Simon.”

That was the end of the conversation. There was a soft smile on your face, and you both sat in a comfortable silence, taking quick glances at each other.

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Week 6

This next visit was much more casual than the previous two. Throughout the whole week before this upcoming visit, he’s been stopping by your office. 

In the beginning, he would just stop and say hello and indulge you with some small talk. Nothing more than checking in on you and asking how your day was. However lately, he’s been getting comfortable here. He’s claimed the large decorative leather chair in the corner of your office, closest to your desk. 

He would just sit there and talk to you about anything and everything. Conversations went from favorite foods to his most recent reads to how long you’ve been an RN. 

The other nurses in the building have gotten used to his presence in your office. When they come to visit or drop something off, his presence doesn’t throw them off anymore.  They’re used to the large man sitting comfortably in your office. 

Today was no different, he stopped by in the morning and you both got to chatting. An hour went by when it felt like mere minutes. Time flew by so fast that you almost forgot about his checkup.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I'm such an idiot, I almost forgot why you were here Simon.” you shoot up from your desk and walk over to the examination table, slapping it twice with a big grin on your face

“Alright Simon, let’s get this over with!” You sell him with a large smile on your face. 

Simon slaps his knees and pushes himself off of the deep and comfortable chair. He makes his way across your office looking at all of the flowers around your office and the Sanrio Characters you have scattered around. 

When he gets to the examination table, just as you're about to move out of the way, he grabs your waist and moves you to the side. He lets his hands linger and he makes eye contact with you as he sits on the chair. 

You're certain he’s smiling under that stupid balaclava.

Cocky bastard. 

You clear your throat and attempt to focus on your work. The checkup only lasts a few minutes, he’s getting so much better. You would be so excited to tell him that he can start getting back to his normal routine, but you're distracted.

Distracted because he’s so touchy. First, he touches your waist, he must know that it has some sort of effect on you because then he touches your clothes. 

During the checkup when you need to do something basic and mindless, he grabs the corner of your coat and rubs yours between his fingers. When you speak to him he’s doing the same with your black scrubs.

“You can start getting back to your regular routine, like training and stuff. Don’t rush it or anything, just …baby steps'' you say, you move yourself to stand in between his legs.

“That right?” He asks but he’s not focused on what you say. He’s focused on your plump lips and you think it’s turning you on. His eyes slowly make their way back to your eyes. 

“Mmmhhh! But nothing too rough.” You reply looking back at him. You feel his hands make their way up your waist. 

“Not even a little rough?” He asks. You both start to lean closer and he takes one hand off of your waist and takes it toward his mask. 

Oh god! What is he doing? Is he going to show his face? Kiss you! Or maybe—

Knock Knock

The loud knock draws your attention away from Simon and you pull yourself away from between his legs.

You clear your throat and attempt to fix yourself even though you two have done nothing. 

“Come in!” You shout, voice cracking a bit. 

One of the more intimidating on-field military nurses enters your office. Unlike you, this nurse is trained for the field and it shows. She is tall with broad muscular shoulders, and she confidently walks into the room with a skeptical look on her face. 

She takes a look at both you and Simon before addressing you. Telling you that your presence is wanted somewhere else. 

“Oh okay… I’ll be there in five ma’am.” You reply and she makes her way out of your office with a raised eyebrow at Simon. 

“Okay, Simon! your next check is in two weeks and that’s your last one, congratulations.” You address Simon trying to make it seem like you don’t remember the moment you two had before you were interrupted. Simon stands and makes his way over to you, stops right in front of you, and towers over you. If he was anyone else you’d give them hell for popping your personal space bubble.

“Alright…Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at you. 

“Are you injured?” You ask sarcastically. 

“Got a paper cut. That’s what I get for reading” He shows you his thumb and starts to chuckle. You laugh right along with him. You look up at him and nod, you smile while biting your lip. 

“See you tomorrow Si”

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Week 8

Two months.

He’s known you for two months and he still doesn’t know how to act around you. This past month he’s seen you almost every day constantly visiting you. He feels like every day he’s getting to know you better and better. You’re a genius, graduating high school and college early which explains why you're so young. You love this little Japanese cat thing that’s called Hello Kitty. Your favorite flowers are tulips, and that’s something that stuck out to him. 

Tulips stuck out so much that he used his last day of time off to go out off base and buy you some. Today is his last official visit with you but he most definitely doesn’t want to make it his last time seeing you. He wants to see you more, a lot more. He wants to see you outside of work, he wants to see you outside your work clothes. He wants to see you in jeans, a dress, in his bed—

He shakes his head, trying to stop himself from thinking like that. It’s disrespectful to you, he hasn’t known you for longer than a couple of months, and he can’t think about you that way. 

It’s hard not thinking like that. He thinks about his third visit with you, when you both were rudely interrupted. He thinks about what your waist feels like, what your face looks like. He thinks about it often, especially at night–

He cringes at himself, he feels like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman. 

He tries to distract himself by looking at the tulips he bought for you. They’re closed and pink with long green stems. They’re beautiful just like you. He doesn’t understand, how someone can be so effortlessly beautiful. 

When you wear makeup or no makeup: beautiful. When you have your hair down and natural, sleek and bone straight, or up in braids, buns, or a scarf: beautiful. He can’t begin to comprehend it. 

Not only are you beautiful on the outside you have the personality of a goddess. You’re kind and compassionate but not afraid to snap back when someone gets out of line. That’s what makes him nervous, the doubts start flooding his mind. 

He’s still staring at the tulips when Soap enters his room. Unannounced. 

Soap comes into his quarters and scatters around the room. He looks in draws and under furniture, he's scattering stuff around as if he lives here. He is tossing his stuff around and looking in places he shouldn't be. Ghost hasn't even looked up, hasn't even acknowledged his presence. Ghost rolls his eyes so far back into his head when he hears Johnny whining to himself. 

“What’re ya lookin’ for Johnny?” He inquires in an irritated tone. 

“Lookin’ for my char–” He cuts himself off as finally looks up at Simon. He sees Simon slouched over his bed looking at the pot with pretty pink tulips and a wide, knowing, mischievous grin appears on his face. He looks like the Cheshire cat.

“Look at you Simon, those for that bird you've become so fond of…”

“Watch it Johnny” Ghost finally looks up, he's not pleased. Johnny continues like a mindless, careless, idiot.

“I've heard the rumors, some field nurse says she saw you two in her office…alone. Good on you Riley. Yer getting old now, ya deserve something like that. Herd shes a beauty too. ” He laughs obnoxiously at his own jokes. He slaps Ghost on the hard on his back and continues searching around his room

Ghost sits in silence for a while, thinking about Johnny’s words, he knows that he is joking, he’s not serious.

‘“Whatdya mean by I deserve something like that?” He finally inquires, the question was practically running around his mind. Johnny continued searching around the room as he answered his question.

“Well you know, ya have had a hard life. Yer always helping people, always trying to be the best, and ya never really had that soft life. I know ya don't think it but yer a good man and you deserve a good woman. We don't live forever so think ya should take the risk and do what you have to do… Are you sure you don't have my charger? He asked after giving some of the most meaningful advice that he'd ever heard.

“Get out,” he replied annoyed by his short attention span.

“Maybe Gaz has it,” he says and leaves the room as if nothing happened.

Those words resonate with Simon and he thinks about them for a long time. The time of the appointment was getting closer and closer. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about what he was going to say to you. He wanted to make it meaningful, he wanted to ask you out on a date. 

He wanted your friendship to continue and he wanted your relationship to grow and become more and more personal. He hasn't done this in a long time and he wanted it to mean something. 

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15 minutes.

He had 15 minutes to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

As he made his way down the familiar hallway toward your office, every step seemed to quicken the pace of his heartbeat. The clock was counting down, each second would go by, getting closer to the moment. In his hands, he held a bouquet of vibrant tulips. He knows that he is catching the eyes of the people around him but each person he passed seemed to fade into the background.

It felt like when he visited you the first time, his hands were sweating and he was nervous. He says ‘hello’ to the woman at the front desk. Even though her attitude has always been rude and uptight however he thanks her every day for sending him to office number 222. The number that completely changed his life.

Now, standing just a few steps away from your door, his mind blanked, and his carefully rehearsed words were completely forgotten. Doubt starting to flood his veins. His hands are sweating again, and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He doesn't know if he can do this, he feels like it is a mistake but his feet won't stop. 

They won't stop because even though his brain is telling him to stop, his heart won't let him.

It's been years since he's ever felt this nervous, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He finally arrives in front of your door and holds the flowers behind his back. He gets ready to knock and says a silent prayer to whoever or whatever higher being is listening.  

He knocks.

He waits a beat and then he hears your beautiful voice say “Come on in.”

Right as you say that without thinking Simon impulsively rips off his balaclava off his face and opens the door. He watches as you slowly look up and he swears he sees a natural glow around you. 

“Hi, how can I help you?”

He doesn't respond, instead, he slowly brings the tulips to his front and presents them to you with a soft smile. You look at the man and he watches as you raise an eyebrow, it's like he can see the clogs turning in your head. Then he sees the pieces being put together in your head and your face lights up.

“Simon?” You ask with a gorgeous smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

giggling and kicking my feet

[kikyoupdates]

Infatuated ⭑˚💌⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑒

yandere!bnha x reader

yandere, reverse harem, bnha x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

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It’s the day of the practical entrance exam, and for the first time, you are standing in front of U.A’s main building.  

Needless to say, you’re nervous. And after all, why wouldn’t you be? Everything has been leading up to this very moment, and if you fail here, it will certainly feel like more than just a minor setback. U.A has earned its prestige for a reason. It’s the best hero school in the country—possibly even the whole world—so for obvious reasons, you want this to work out.  

But despite how the muscles in your stomach clench into a painful knot, you still realize that you don’t have the worst of it.  

“W-We’re finally here,” Izuku gasps out. He’s shaking, of course, looking as though the faintest breeze might blow him over.  

Izuku’s situation is different from yours. He has been chosen as All Might’s successor, and thus, has a much heavier responsibility to uphold. Having spent these past ten months painfully building up his body so that he can become a proper vessel, All Might has finally passed One for All on to him—just earlier this morning, for that matter. You were there when you watched Izuku struggle to swallow the hero’s hair without puking.  

You’re nervous, sure, but he must be a million times more nervous. There’s a lot at stake, and you can’t even begin to put yourself in his shoes. 

Still, he is Midoriya Izuku. Your beloved friend. Your shining light in the darkness.  

If anyone can pull this off, it’s him.  

“It’s definitely a bit intimidating, but we can do this,” you reassure, gently patting him on the back. You realize your words won’t do much, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s true that you believe in him, and you want to make sure he knows that.

Izuku pauses to take a hurried, shaky breath, but eventually, he graces you with an angelic smile.  

“O-Okay,” he says, evidently still nervous, but perhaps a bit more optimistic than a few seconds ago.  

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last very long.  

“Get the fuck out of my way,” someone snarls.  

It’s Katsuki, of course, and upon seeing you and Izuku standing together, he shoves both of you aside. You can’t deny that it hurts. More so emotionally than physically. You’re suddenly reminded of the fun day you spent at the arcade, but with the way he glares at you, it almost feels like it must have just been a dream.  

The teddy bear in your room—which you did end up naming Skull-Crusher, funnily enough—is the only evidence you have that it really, truly happened. Since then, Katsuki has reverted back to his usual ways, and you’ve hardly even spoke to each other.

Izuku shrinks away out of fear, the way he usually does whenever Katsuki is involved. For just a moment, he considers saying hi and wishing his former friend good luck, but the words don’t actually make it past his lips.  

Quite frankly, Izuku doesn’t want Katsuki to pass the exam. He wants Katsuki to stay as far away as possible—both from him and from you.  

But he knows that Katsuki is strong, and thus, the odds of him failing are slim to none.  

Still. It’s nice to dream.  

Katsuki storms right past the two of you, not even bothering to glance back over his shoulder. You know that calling out to him won’t do any good in this situation. It’s better just to let him pass by and avoid stirring up a confrontation.  

It makes you sad, though, because you want to talk to Katsuki, and knowing that you can’t is a feeling too bitter to put into words.  

“[Name]?” Izuku lightly taps you on the shoulder, and he’s staring at you with a puzzled expression. “Everything okay? You looked really sad for a moment. Is it... because of Kacchan?”  

You muster up a smile. “No, I’m good. Don’t worry. I think I just needed a moment to really take in everything that’s happening. It’s hard to believe we’re actually here right now. Let’s start heading inside for the orientation.”  

Izuku gives you a curt nod, but the whole time he trails behind you, his green eyes are somber, clouded over by something dark. He can feel his heart clenching uncomfortably, and it’s enough to make him want to cry.  

One way or another, he manages to bite back his tears.  

Liar, he thinks. You always look that way whenever Kacchan is around. 

Izuku can tell that you don’t feel hatred towards Katsuki. Sure, you get angry at him every now and then, especially when he’s harassing people, but Izuku has yet to see you look at him in a way that conveys disgust and rejection.  

You don’t hate Katsuki. You probably don’t even dislike him. Instead... it seems like you miss being by his side.  

The thought makes Izuku sick.

God, this is uncomfortable. 

As it turns out, examinees are assigned seats based on which middle schools they attend, and that’s how you and Izuku find yourselves sitting next to Katsuki in the auditorium. You strategically placed yourself right in between the two of them, in the hopes of preventing a nasty altercation, but it does little to stop Katsuki from glaring at the freckled boy every few seconds.  

Thankfully, Izuku is too engrossed in Present Mic’s presentation to take note of Katsuki’s animosity. He’s entered fanboy mode, and he can hardly stop gushing and blabbering on about all sorts of different facts—most of which you’ve already heard before.

“If you don’t shut that asshole up, I’ll do it with my fist,” Katsuki warns.  

You grimace, but instead of chastising him for making such threats, you lightly shake Izuku by the shoulders and press a finger to your lips.

“Shh,” you whisper. “Izuku, try to be a bit quieter. Other people are trying to listen to. You can tell me all this stuff later in private, okay?”  

“Huh? O-Oh.” Izuku blushes, then frantically nods his head. “S-Sorry. I got a little carried away. I’ll be quiet now,” he says, voice fading to a whisper at the end.  

He then presses a finger to his lips, just like you did earlier, and the sight is so cute that you can’t help but giggle.  

Although Katsuki is disgusted beyond words, he still can’t bring himself to look away. 

The format of the entrance exam is promptly explained, and despite the fact that it seems relatively easy to understand, you’re becoming less confident with every passing second.  

Fighting... robots?  

That’s how the exam is set up. The more robots you defeat, the more points you gain. Naturally, having a lot of points will increase your odds of passing the exam. You had no knowledge coming into this of what U.A’s practical entrance exams were like, but you’d been hoping that it would involve pitting your abilities against some of the other applicants. Fighting them head-on or something.  

Your Quirk only works on people, not inanimate objects. How the hell are you supposed to win against a bunch of robots?  

It’s too early to give up. You know that. The exam hasn’t even started yet, for crying out loud.  

But as much as you try to psyche yourself up and reason that you still have a chance, already, it feels like you’ve failed.  

“It sucks that we’re going to be at different exam sites,” Izuku sighs. The orientation is over, and everyone is about to leave and head to their respective areas. You, Izuku, and Katsuki have all been split up. Since you’re from the same middle school, they probably don’t want students who know each other to cooperate in any way.  

You doubt it would have made much of a difference, though.  

“Good luck, Izuku.” Despite how nervous and dejected you are, you still smile and do your best to encourage him. He has All Might’s will to carry on. It’s not the end of the world if you fail, even though you would very much like to keep attending the same school as him.  

Right. It’s going to be okay. No matter what happens, you may as well do your best. You can think about the worst-case scenario later.  

For the time being, you refuse to go down without a fight.  

You bid Izuku goodbye after that. You even try waving Katsuki off, but as expected, he completely ignores you. It’s fine. No point in worrying about that right now. You take a deep breath, head to the changerooms to put on your athletic wear, then line up with the rest of the students once you get to your exam site.  

Part of you hopes that Monoma might be here, somewhere amongst the crowd, but there are far too many people for you to spot him. You know that he’ll be fine, though. His Quirk is powerful, and with all these students to choose from, he’s bound to copy a few abilities that will help him take down the robots.  

Monoma will pass, Katsuki will pass, and Izuku will pass too.  

You really hope you won't be the exception. 

There’s no countdown to start. You’re completely caught off-guard, much like everyone else, when Present Mic suddenly yells that the exam is officially underway. Of course, you charge ahead as fast as possible, but you’d be lying if you said you had a game plan. Your Quirk will be next to useless throughout this entire thing. What exactly are you supposed to do?  

There’s a robot there. It’s worth only one point, which means it shouldn’t be too strong, right?  

Desperate to seize the opportunity, you rush towards it and deliver the most powerful kick you’re capable of. Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been training and completing the missions assigned to you. The reward for completing those missions is that your physical capabilities—like your strength or speed—increase bit by bit. That’s how your Quirk has allowed you to expand your parameters. 

You’ve gotten stronger. That much is the undeniable truth. But as your foot connects with the robot’s metallic plating, and you can feel your bones rattle from the impact, you realize that just because you’re stronger than the average person doesn’t mean you’re strong enough to be a hero.  

The robot stalls momentarily, and you’re just barely able to jump out of the way before it swings at you. If you hadn’t been fast enough on the uptake, you would’ve probably been sent flying just then. And this is only the weakest robot. You can’t even defeat the weakest one of the bunch?  

You’re frustrated, perhaps even a touch humiliated, and it’s at that very moment that a familiar screen appears in front of your eyes.  

[𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭.]

By the time you blink, the screen has changed into a five-minute timer. One that is already counting down.  

You don’t waste time by trying to question what prompted this sudden mission. Perhaps the system recognized that you were in a tough spot, so it decided to present you with an opportunity? Either way, it’s clear that your Quirk is helping you right now. It’s giving you a chance to turn this situation around.  

Just like that, your objective has changed. You are no longer trying to fight the robots head-on. Instead, you spin around, eyes frantically scanning your surroundings in search of someone you can charm. It’s easier said than done, since all of the examinees are moving too quickly for you to catch them off-guard. Everyone is making the most of the time given and trying to rake up as many points as possible.  

None of them are willing to let their guards down. By the time they’ve finished defeating one of the robots, they’re already onto the next, and the odds of you sneaking up on someone and being able to kiss them are absurdly low.  

You grit your teeth. Is it really hopeless? Your Quirk gave you an opportunity to prove yourself, and you’re about to waste it, like the weakling you are.  

Drowning in self-deprecating thoughts, you feel just about ready to give up. But the part of you that is still desperate to make this work—to become a hero—manages to spot someone right in the nick of time.  

The boy has just taken down several robots in one fell swoop, but instead of rushing ahead and finding more targets, he’s moving awfully slow. His eyes are wide and unfocused, and his mouth is hanging open like a fish. At the risk of sounding too judgmental, it kind of looks like his brain just short-circuited or something.  

Whatever is going on, he’s an easy target. This is probably the best chance you’re going to get.  

Face already burning, you run straight towards him, dreading what you’ll have to do. You wish your powers didn’t work like this. You wish you didn’t have to resort to such means just to use your Quirk, but reality is cruel. Having grown up alongside Izuku and watched him suffer just for being Quirkless, you’re abundantly aware of that fact.  

Before the boy can react in time, you wrap your arms around him and quickly press your lips against his cheek. He’ll probably be surprised. Perhaps even disgusted. Again, you wish it didn’t have to be like this, but this is simply the hand you've been dealt.  

[𝑼𝒔𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒐𝒏 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒌𝒊?]

>>[𝒀𝑬𝑺]

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, pulling away as quickly as possible. The boy, Kaminari, still has a blank expression on his face. He already looked pretty out of it to begin with, and you’re hoping that the suddenness of your kiss hasn’t aggravated his condition too much.  

Did it... work?  

Kaminari doesn’t say anything, or make any attempts to move away. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s been charmed, or if he’s still stuck in that weird brain-fried state from earlier.  

Soon enough, you receive your answer.

[𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧! 𝐀𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲.]

Light engulfs your body, and this time, there’s no denying that the change is more noticeable than all the previous instances. You feel stronger. You’re not sure how to explain it, but it’s as if your body is bursting with energy all of a sudden.  

As for whether or not you're strong enough to defeat those robots, that remains to be seen.  

“I’m really sorry,” you say again, patting Kaminari on the shoulder to try and snap him back to his senses. “Please don’t hold this against me. I just... didn’t know what else to do. I’m still too weak. Sorry.” 

You run off without looking back. There’s no time to waste. You already spent quite a while searching for a target to use your Quirk on. For the remaining few minutes of the exam, you need to score some points.  

Of course, you have no way of knowing this, but Kaminari’s brain did short-circuit, because he used his Quirk too much and went over his voltage limit. When you approached him, he was pretty much already out of commission.  

Usually, your charm ability has a similar effect. It subdues your target and allows you to either incapacitate them, or issue a command that they must follow. Back when you were younger and didn’t know how to control it that well, people kept on getting overwhelmed and fainting.  

But funnily enough, your Quirk has the opposite effect on Kaminari. Perhaps, because his brain had already turned to mush, the two feelings counteracted, and within a few moments of the kiss, he is suddenly clear-headed again.  

Still, it takes Kaminari a little while longer to process what just happened. The most he’s able to do is slowly lift up his hand and press it against the spot on his cheek, where your lips made contact with his skin.  

Eventually, he blinks.  

“K-Kiss?” he mumbles in disbelief. “I just got... kissed?”  

It’s a good thing Kaminari already scored enough points to pass, because for the rest of the exam, all he can think about is you.

You can’t recall exactly how many points you scored, since you were the most stressed out you’ve ever been, but you’d like to think you did alright. Thanks to your Quirk, your power rose exponentially during the last few minutes of the exam. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such sheer strength right at your fingertips, and you have to admit, it’s a rather intoxicating feeling.

Right now, though, all you feel is exhaustion.  

It’s clear that strength comes at no small cost. Whatever temporary stats-boost you got is gone, and your whole body is aching, heavier than you can even believe. With every step you take, it feels like your bones are creaking, but since you don’t have any actual injuries, you doubt the on-site nurse, Recovery Girl, can do anything to help.  

But it’s fine. You’ll take the discomfort. Becoming a hero isn’t an easy feat, and you're prepared for a lot worse than some sore muscles. More importantly, the exam is finally over, and with that, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.  

You leave the exam site and head back towards the main gate, and perhaps it’s because you’re such good friends, but you’re able to spot Izuku right away.  

A grin stretches across your lips. You bound towards him, momentarily forgetting your exhaustion. You can’t wait to ask how he did. It must have been child’s play for him. He’s got All Might’s Quirk now, after all. 

“Izuku—”  

You stop yourself, on account of the heavy, downcast expression he has. Something feels off. Why does he look so upset? He finally has a Quirk. He’s worked so hard to obtain it, and surely, it must be the strongest power in the world, since it’s used by none other than the strongest hero.  

Izuku turns towards you. His eyes are dim. They lack their usual luster and shine, their passion and determination.  

He looks absolutely broken.  

“Hi, [Name].”  

The way he says your name makes your heart clench. It’s obvious that he’s upset. More so than he can even express. And since you’re not a total idiot, you’re able to put two and two together.  

But... why? I thought he’d be able to do just fine. He finally has a powerful Quirk, and he’s the type to never give up, no matter what.  

Maybe he’s being too harsh on himself. He might be discouraged just because it looked like others scored more points than he did. But there’s no way to know exactly what the cut-off for passing is, so if he just believes— 

“I didn’t get any points,” Izuku says.  

Your lips immediately clamp shut. To say that you’re shocked would still be an understatement. You don’t even know how you’re supposed to respond to that. No points? Even with the Quirk that All Might entrusted him with? How is that possible?  

“I’m such a loser,” Izuku chuckles dryly. “All Might believed in me... but I’ve already let him down. I didn’t realize One for All would be so harsh on my body. When I tried using it, I broke pretty much all my limbs. Worst of all, the robot that I fought was worth zero points. It was one of those obstacles that Present Mic told us to avoid.”  

You don’t ask why he would willingly fight something that wouldn’t even score him any points on the exam. Since it’s Izuku, there can only be one explanation.  

He must have done it in order to save someone.  

“Was the person... alright?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. It takes Izuku a few moments to understand what you’re referring to, but soon enough, he nods his head.  

“Yeah. She was fine. I’m glad she didn’t get hurt. But... it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to fail this exam.”  

He lowers his gaze to the ground and clenches his fists. God, you want to hug him so badly, but right now, he looks as if he might shatter under the faintest touch. 

Izuku has a Quirk now. He’s All Might’s successor, and that won’t change. U.A is the school of his dreams, but even if it doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean he can’t still be a hero, right?  

Logically speaking, you know it’s not the end of the world, but as far as Izuku is concerned, it may as well be.  

“Kacchan will get in,” Izuku mutters quietly. When you don’t respond, he just stares at you, eyes impossibly wide. “He’ll get in... and I won’t.”  

“Don’t say that,” you frown. “We haven’t gotten the results yet, and there’s still the written exam left to go. I’m sure you can make up some of the marks there.”  

It’s true that it’s still too early to give up hope, but you imagine that if you were in Izuku’s position—if your Quirk had failed and you hadn’t been able to score a single point—then you would probably be every bit as discouraged.  

Izuku smiles sadly. “After all this time... I really thought I had a chance. But I guess Kacchan was right. I’ll always be a Quirkless weakling. Deep down, that’s just who I am.”  

“That’s not true—”  

“Hey, [Name]? If I don’t get into U.A, what happens then? What am I supposed to do next?”  

Your expression crumples. He’s in so much pain. You thought that after meeting All Might and training to obtain One for All, his hardships would finally come to an end. You don’t understand why it has to be this way. Is it too much to ask that the world treats him fairly for a change?  

You grab his hand and squeeze it tight, because in this moment, it’s the most you can do. “It hasn’t been decided yet, Izuku. And in the absolute worst-case scenario, there are still other hero schools. Heroes come from all kinds of different places, not just U.A.”  

You are trying your best to be supportive, and to remind him that there are other options. There’s not just one right way to become a hero. He has a Quirk now. His situation is vastly different than it was before.  

However, Izuku is too busy drowning in misery. He can’t think rationally, because his emotions have superseded all reason. Everything suddenly seems so black-and-white. As if there’s only one door for him to take, and that door has just been slammed shut in his face.  

He won’t get into U.A, the alma mater of his greatest role model. By that definition, he’s already failed.  

So, then... what if you do get in? You’ll get in, but he won’t be there by your side.  

He won’t be by your side, but Katsuki will.  

“If I don’t get into U.A... will you go to a different hero school with me?”  

By the time the words have left his lips, Izuku already wishes he’d never said them. Seriously, what in the world is wrong with him? You have dreams too. How can he ask you to willingly set them aside just because he’s the one who screwed things up?  

Izuku is afraid you’ll get angry with him. It’s never happened before, but if there was ever a time, then surely, it’s right now.  

But you don’t get angry. Because just like Izuku has always known, you really are perfect.  

“Okay,” you say, then a warm smile rises to your lips. “U.A is definitely nice, but I’ll go wherever you go, Izuku. We can be heroes no matter what it takes.”  

Hearing you say those words, coupled with that kind, beautiful expression of yours... it does something to his heart. In fact, he’s convinced you must have just put a spell on him.  

You will go wherever he goes. It’s a promise, right?  

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143 - being stuck at the office during Christmas with your asshole boss/coworker AU - Seungmin (Stray Kids)

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Writing Prompt 143 - being stuck at the office during Christmas with your asshole boss/coworker AU - Seungmin

4.7k words

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“Hey, sweetie!” Mia hears as soon as she picks up the phone, putting it between her ear and her left shoulder as she’s skimming through a million files at once.

“Hi, mom!” She replies, her mother’s voice bringing a soft smile to her lips. She misses her, and home, and the life she had before moving to the big city and struggling to make ends meet while trying to make a name for herself in the cruel world of the law.

Mia’s been working as a paralegal ever since she finished law school, as she decided it would be a good idea to get some experience with working on actual cases before taking the bar exam to become a lawyer. She wasn’t entirely sure of which career path she would take after law school, so getting certified for this seemed like a good idea.

One year later after working for various small lawyers, she landed a job at a big, prestigious firm and got assigned to be the assistant of one of the greatest lawyers of their firm – who apparently never got along with anyone and would fire them on the spot.

The firm was desperate, because Kim Seungmin is their strongest asset, he rarely loses cases, if ever, and he’s such a perfectionist, there’s simply no arguing with him. The moment he steps into the court room, he dominates it. Every person who’s worked with or against him respects him, and getting such a reputation is close to impossible in such a big city.

In other words, Kim Seungmin is exactly what Mia wants to become.

“How are you, baby? Have you been good this year? Will Santa come with presents or with coal tomorrow?” Her mother asks, excitement audible in her voice, and Mia lets out a chuckle.

“I don’t know! At this rate, Santa can come with whatever he wants, he won’t find anyone home.” She laughs slightly, a soft sigh making its way past her lips.

“Don’t tell me, are you still at work?” Her mother asks almost accusatory, and Mia can clearly picture the frown on her face and the deep lines on her forehead, partly because of her age, but mostly because of her certainly repulsed expression.

“Yeah, had to work on this big case…”

“You’re not even a lawyer yet! Why do you have to work during the holidays? Your asshole boss should do the hard work instead!” Her mother whines, and Mia knows that once she starts, she will never finish. “That’s why I keep telling you to get married and let a man take care of you! You never listen to me!”

“As much as I love you, I would never be able to endure that.” Mia laughs, and as soon as the words leave her lips, she hears her mother tut.

“It’s Christmas Eve! What do you mean you are still at the office? It’s 9PM!!!”

“I know, I know, but my boss is also here, and I- oh, shit! Sorry mom, gotta go!” She ends the call immediately as she hears the small ding the door makes as soon as someone enters a correct code and it opens.

One thing about their office is that everything is very safe and computerised: door codes with facial and fingerprint recognition and cameras everywhere are only a few of the things Mia had to get used to when she started working for Mr. Kim.

Another thing she had to get used to is the fact that Kim Seungmin loathes her being on the phone with a passion.

“Were you on the phone again?” He rolls his eyes as he enters the office – his. Mia only has a small desk in the corner of it since she’s helping him out with all his cases.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim. It’s Christmas, as you might be aware, and my mother called me.” She lets out a fake smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and then she switches focus to the papers in front of her again.

“Oh, I thought Christmas is on the 25th, but maybe they changed the calendar while I was too busy keeping people out of jail.” Seungmin smiles back in mockery, clear annoyance in his tone.

He’s such a workaholic, which means that Mia is also worked to the bone, as she has to be there every time he is. She made the mistake of not picking up the phone one single time in a whole year because it was midnight and she was sick, and that almost got her fired, so ever since, she always makes sure to be in his office at all times when he’s actively working on a case.

When he’s working on cases, he is simply always there, cramped at his desk and reading all sorts of files, and Mia has to match. He makes sure to give her a lot to search through, and impossible deadlines, so she doesn’t even recall how many all-nighters she pulled because of him.

It's safe to say that Kim Seungmin is also exactly what she hates.

“Well, as I said, Mr Kim, I’m sorry, but some of us have families that are very insistent on not working Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Years, and any other bank holidays.” She smiles again.

“If you dislike it that much, you can go home.” Seungmin says with a shrug, but Mia doesn’t believe it one bit.

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow then looks at him, but he is already at his desk, his head buried behind mountains of papers.

“Yeah. And don’t bother coming back after the holidays.”

“There we go.” She chuckles slightly. “I was wondering when our streak would end.”

“Our streak?” This finally takes Seungmin’s eyes out of the papers.

“Yeah. You haven’t tried firing me in exactly 5 days. It’s a new personal record.” Mia replies, a smile playing on her lips, and Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“I’ve never tried firing you.”

“Uhm, yeah? You did.”

“No, I didn’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Mr. Kim, you know better than anyone that in order to be a lawyer you need to get your facts straight. I’ve been working for you for exactly 350 days today, and you’ve threatened to fire me 407 times. Oh, actually, 408, including tonight.” Mia says matter-of-factly, and Seungmin can’t help but let out a chuckle and shake his head.

“Did you keep count?”

“Of course, I did. You have a reputation, you see? I needed to cover my tracks.” Mia shrugs, but Seungmin is seriously impressed. He can’t believe it. He’s still laughing.

It takes him a little bit to calm down and get his composure back, but once he does, his lips form a straight line, and he begins speaking again.

“Mia, this time I’m serious. I thought you would’ve gotten used to me in 350 days. If you truly dislike my working style, you are free to walk through that door.” He points to it, and this truly makes Mia frown.

“No… I do like your working style… It’s just that, I’m pretty sure that we’re the only ones working at this hour on Christmas Eve.” She replies, then returns her eyes to the papers thinking his words over.

Kim Seungmin is insufferable, she hates working overtime, she hates pulling all-nighters every other week, and she dislikes how bossy he is, but working so closely to him, she realised exactly 320 days ago that she really, really likes him. It took her a month to figure out his likes and dislikes, and that how he acts directly contradicts what he actually means when it comes to interpersonal relationships.

She likes a lot of things about him. Most things, actually. She likes his determination and how serious he is about his job, she likes how he’s always pushing her to do more, to learn more, and she’s truly learnt so much from him, she doubts she would have any trouble passing the bar exam and working as a lawyer in the future. He inspires her to do better, and she does; she’s been doing her best ever since she started working for him.

Kim Seungmin is the person she loathes the most, while simultaneously being the person she admires the most.

When he fails to say anything back to her, she sighs again and asks quietly, almost in a whisper, half-hoping he’d hear, half-hoping he wouldn’t.

“Do you truly want me to quit? Don’t you think that… we work well together?”

He hums softly, letting her know that he’s heard her, and then randomly stands up, going towards her small desk and snatching the file she was reading from her hands.

“You know what, Mia? You’re right. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s go home and relax and come back on the 27th. We deserve a break.” He smiles softly, and this takes Mia by surprise completely.

“What?” She asks baffled. “Are you joking? I still have to read-”

“It can wait. The court hearing is on the 15th of January. There’s plenty of time to prepare. Let’s go and rest.” Seungmin says, his eyes soft and a small smile in the corners of his lips, and Mia’s mouth is on the floor.

Turns out she doesn’t know him as well as she thought, because she would’ve never in a million years expect this from him.

“O-okay…” She stumbles on her words confused. “Let me just pull out my charger.”

“Alright.” Seungmin walks to the hanger to grab their coats, while Mia is bending over to reach the outlet behind her desk.

She struggles for a little while, because the outlet is slightly damaged. Maintenance was supposed to come and fix this last week, but they’ve told them that it’ll happen some time after Christmas, so she ought to be very careful.

As she pulls out her charger though, a breaker trips, making the whole room go dark.

“Oh, no! Fu- I mean, damn!” She curses out loud, realising she most likely caused a power outage.

“What happened?” Seungmin sounds slightly alarmed. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, but I think I caused a short circuit or something! How do we turn the power back on?”

“Shit, I told maintenance a million times to come fix that stupid outlet. You could’ve hurt yourself.” Seungmin replies, grabbing his phone and turning on his flashlight. “No worries, I’ll call the maintenance emergency number. You sure you’re okay?”

He approaches her and looks at her hands, and she almost hears him let out a sigh of relief when he notices that she is, indeed, fine.

“Yeah.” She nods, taken aback once again. He is too nice. Way too nice.

Who is he and what did he do to her asshole boss?

She sees him put the phone against his ear, but no one answers.

“Damn, why isn’t anyone working?” He mumbles under his breath.

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Mia replies, and he throws her a snare.

“Let’s try the door. Should still work. Or… there must be a generator or something to turn the power back on…”

Mia nods and heads towards the door to try the knob, but unsurprisingly, it doesn’t budge. Without the security measures and fingerprints and face recognition systems, they are locked in.

“Mr. Kim, the door is not opening.”

“Alright…” He scratches his nape.

“Maybe there’s a key, or something?”

“I don’t think so… I wasn’t given any.”

“Then… I guess we’re going to spend Christmas Eve together after all.” She chuckles. “Oh! Which reminds me!”

Mia hurries to her desk before she has time to change her mind, and pulls open the first drawer, pulling out a medium sized box. She looks unsure at Seungmin, but she shakes her head slightly and closes her eyes tightly, handing him the box.

“This is a gift… for you.”

“For me?” His eyes widen. “Really? What is it?”

“Open it and see. Well, you can actually open it tomorrow, or… or actually, give it back. You’ll hate it, it’s nothing important-” She tries to snatch the box back, but with the desk between the two, Seungmin easily gets away from where her hands can reach.

He hastily opens the box and pulls out a winter scarf in multiple shades of blue and white, soft to the touch and extremely beautiful.

“Thank you, Mia. You shouldn’t have bothered, though.” He smiles, bringing it closer to his face and smelling it. It smells just like her perfume.

This brings another smile to his lips that Mia fails to see in the darkness, with his flashlight turned away from them.

“Oh… it’s alright if you don’t like it, you don’t have to accept it…” her voice falters. She is quite certain that he hates it, but she’s spent hours making it, so she’d rather take it back and wear it herself with how much money and time she invested in the whole knitting process.

“I love it.” He says, making her eyes widen.

“You do?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh…”

“Thank you, Mia. It’ll be very useful this cold winter.”

“I’m glad you like it…”

“Then…” Seungmin hesitates slightly, before placing the box down on her desk and going back to his coat, rummaging through the pockets and pulling out a small box. “I also got this for you… I mean, I just happened to see it in a store, and I remembered catching you look at it on your computer a while ago, so…”

Mia is completely shocked when he hands her the box and she opens it, revealing a Tiffany gold necklace adorned with a few small diamonds; very beautiful, very expensive. Something she’s been eyeing for months, the first present she wanted to get herself once she would pass the bar exam and become a lawyer.

“Mr. Kim… this is… this is insane! I can’t accept it. I gave you a handmade gift, and you-”

“Wait, this is handmade?!” He grabs the scarf again, his mouth falling open. “But it looks perfect! I thought you bought it from somewhere!”

“No… I just love knitting. I can’t accept this gift, it’s too expensive…” She hands him back the box, but he shakes his head and refuses to take it.

“Mia, I’m… really grateful for your work this past year. I just wanted to show my gratitude somehow, but I always end up treating you badly and acting like an asshole. I’m sorry for being hard on you. I don’t actually want you to quit, or to fire you.” He confesses, and Mia smiles.

“Alright… Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Seungmin.”

“What?”

“Seungmin… that’s my name.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, but-”

“I’ve been calling you Mia for months. Why do you keep calling me Mr. Kim?”

“Because I’m a professional?”

“And I’m not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m just saying, Mr. Kim feels a bit… cold?”

“Alright… uhm… Seung-Seungmin.” She stumbles on her words again, because saying his name feels very unnatural, but also very pleasant, like it just brought them closer.

She blushes to herself and is grateful for the darkness of the room for once.

“That’s better.” He smiles back. “So… I think we’re going to be stuck here until tomorrow morning. Maintenance should come at around 6AM, as they do every morning. The holidays aren’t an exception.”

“I won’t ask how you know that.” Mia says with slight mockery. She also knows it, in fact, since she’s also stayed that late, and even later, with him.

“What do you want to do?” Seungmin asks all of a sudden, and she is unsure of what to say back.

“Maybe we could… work?”

“No… we’ve worked enough. I already got out of that mood, so I don’t think I could focus back on it.”

“I’m sorry. We’re stuck here because of me…” Mia pouts.

“Don’t worry about it. However… since 6AM is very far away… should we go on the sofa and talk, or something?” He suggests, so Mia stands up and nods, and both make their way towards the large sofa in the middle of the room.

The sofa is usually reserved for resting when they both stay up late in the office and need a quick break, so it accommodates both with little issue. There would even be enough space for both to lie down, provided they would press their bodies against each other, but Mia doesn’t want to ponder too much on this thought, because it makes her heart race and her cheeks an even brighter shade of red than they already are.

“Can we maybe… turn the flashlight off?” Mia asks

“Sure.” He says without missing a beat, turning it off, and they are now in complete darkness, aside from the soft dim light coming from the large windows.

“So… what should we talk about?” Mia asks.

“Well, what about…”

And so, they begin discussing about their past cases, sharing inside jokes and laughing their hearts out. Instead of being totally work-focused, however, their discussions quickly become light-hearted, they start delving on personal matters, and soon enough, they end up discussing about their hobbies in a lot of detail. They go over books they’ve both read, theories, TV shows and films, and then about what they like to do in their scarce free time.

With each and every word they say, Mia can’t help but notice how many things they have in common. Both of them are career-driven, ambitious, have similar interests, and it feels like they could talk for ages without exhausting conversation topics.

“Mia, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while…” He says all of a sudden, and her breath hitches in her throat.

“What…?” She asks with hesitation.

“I think you are ready to take the bar exam. You should pursue your dreams and become a lawyer, because you’ll make a damn good one.”

Hearing his words, Mia feels her eyes water. She didn’t know how much she needed him to say it, how much she needed that validation from the one person she admires the most.

“Really?” She asks hopeful, wishing she could see his expression.

“Yes. Really. I think… I think you’re going to nail it. You should register for the next exam session. I looked it up, and it’s in February. There’s plenty of time to prepare, and I’ll also help you study if you get stuck somewhere, although I doubt you’ll need me.”

“Thank you, Seungmin…” She says, but suddenly, they feel way too far apart. She decides to launch forward and throws herself at him, her arms going around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “This means a lot to me.”

“Mia… can you promise me something, though?” He asks, and she tries to pull back, but his arms also go around her waist, pulling her closer to him; so close, their bodies are touching. If he would lean back, she would fall right on top on him.

“Yeah…? What is it?”

“You will go and pass the bar exam, and then… will you come back to me? Not as an assistant… as a partner.”

“Are you … are you serious?” This time she succeeds in pulling back, completely taken aback. It seems he’s full of surprises tonight.

She’s heard from the very beginning that Kim Seungmin prefers working alone. He dislikes training others, or having to share his ideas, or having to be patient with someone else – and yet, he wants to keep working with her right by his side?

“I am, yes. I feel like… this is where you belong, you know? Next to me.” He says, the last part a bit quieter, but she hears it nonetheless, and her heart does its thing to beat faster again.

“Yeah… if you’ll have me, Seungmin, I will always be by your side. I’d love to work cases together, as lawyers.” She smiles, her arms still around her neck, his hands now steadily on her waist.

For some reason, it feels natural to be so close to him, to feel his hands on her body.

“Great… I just wanted to get that off my chest.” He smiles back, and she almost misses it because of the dark.

For some reason, it feels natural to lean in and press a kiss against his lips.

.

.

.

Until it doesn’t.

What the fuck did she just do?

“What the fuck did I just do?” She asks out loud, immediately separating herself from him, realising how much she’s crossed the line. She should’ve never kissed him, she should’ve never-

“Something I really, really liked.” Seungmin cuts off her train of thoughts, and the words don’t register in her head before his lips crash back against her.

And so begins a long battle fought with lips, and hot tongues, and spit, and moans melting into each other’s mouths, and his body falls on hers, her back pressed against the sofa.

His weight on hers is perfect, his kisses are perfect, he is perfect.

“This is so inappropriate” Seungmin says hastily, his breath ragged, as he separates himself from her slightly and pulls on the tight knot of his tie with one hand to loosen it.

“You are so inappropriately hot, why do you think I stick around?” Mia chuckles, her breathing matching his, as she rises her head a bit to kiss his neck.

Seungmin lets out a loud moan as he forces her back down, under him, and her hands fiddle with the buttons of his shirt as she begins undoing them one by one, as quickly as she can.

Kim Seungmin is everything she wants to be, and everything she wants to have. And she will have him tonight, on this very sofa they’ve spent countless of hours on, in this very room they’ve smiled and laughed and fought and came up with plan after plan to win their cases.

“You’re so funny, Mia, but look at you melting.” Seungmin counters, his hands moving under her shirt, his fingers dancing on her skin and stopping right on top of her bra. He is quick to move them under it, to cup her naked breasts and play softly with her nipples.

Mia thought about Seungmin many times, although she always tried to not think of him in that way, but even so, every time she imagined him like this, she never thought he’d be so gentle with her if they were to ever cross the line between professionalism and desire.

“You’re so gentle, Seungmin.” She says out loud confidently, but her skin is all prickly, and she’s already extremely stimulated from his soft touches. She doesn’t even think she could handle anything more, not when mere hours ago, she couldn’t even say his first name out loud without stuttering.

“Don’t you like it, love? Do you want more?” He asks almost tauntingly as his hands disappear from under her shirt and his mouth connects to her neck, his teeth biting into the soft and sensitive skin between her ear and her collarbones, as one of his hands travel in her pants, touching her pussy and teasing her entrance.

“Oh, God.” She rolls her head back, giving him more access as he’s spreading her wetness around.

She’s already so wet, it’s embarrassing.

“You want me so much, huh?” He whispers in her ear, putting one finger inside, and her hands instinctively move on his back pulling the fabric of his shirt.

“Let’s get undressed.” Mia says breathless.

“You have to be more polite than that if you want me to do anything.” Seungmin chuckles, making her let out a loud whine.

“Please, let’s take off our clothes! I want you so fucking bad, and you-”

“And I also want you so much more than that, Mia. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk when you’d speak back to me. God, you’re so hot.” He bites her neck again, making her moan and clutch his shirt’s fabric tighter.

He inserts another finger in her, pulling them in and out and curving them upwards just right, and just as she feels close to letting go, he takes them out of her, leaving her confused and slightly dejected.

“Why-”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hm? Since you’ve asked so politely.”

“Fuck you.” She curses, clenching her legs just to try and get some of that friction back.

“Maybe some other night, love. Tonight’s my turn to fuck you.”

He removes his shirt that Mia has so conveniently unbuttoned earlier, then helped her out of her blouse and pants.

Laying back naked on the sofa, she looks at him expectedly, her eyes more adjusted to the dark, enough to see his perfect silhouette as he unbuttons his pants and takes out his cock. She doesn’t hesitate to spread her legs apart, and he doesn’t hesitate to compliment her for it.

“Such a good girl.” He smirks, settling between her legs and pressing his hard-on against his entrance, letting himself enter her deliberately slowly, letting her feel every inch of his cock, getting used to the stretch.

He curses once he bottoms out into her, and as he begins moving, he tries to stay buried inside, his hips only buckling in and out slightly, rubbing against her sweet spot.

“Fuck.” She curses as well, her head rolling back once more, and his lips connect instantly to her neck.

The way he’s fucking her feels so intense, so passionate, and it’s hands down the best she’s ever had. Her hands move once more to his back, fingernails digging softly in his skin as he grunts in her ear, his movements becoming faster, more erratic, but still precise enough to make her come undone in mere seconds.

She clenches around him, her legs start shaking, and her toes curl from the pleasure. Hearing her so fucked up, feeling her warm body under his, he can’t help but let out soft curses against her neck as he fucks himself into her faster and faster, until he also lets go, painting her walls white.

“You are so fucking perfect.” Mia says breathless as he pulls out of her and kisses her lips.

“And so are you. Damn, Mia, you’re just… you’re incredible.”

He kisses her once more before standing up and heading to his desk to grab some napkins, helping to clean her up before she can head to the bathroom attached to their office.

“Thank you…” She says, feeling shy all of a sudden, as if she wasn’t moaning for dear life under him minutes ago.

“Damn.” He curses again with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was planning on asking you on a real date once you passed the bar exam and were no longer my subordinate.”

“You can still take me out on a date when that happens… and before, and after that as well.” She says blushing, and he caresses her head gently.

“Mhm. I will.”

“So… what does this make us?” Mia asks in a breath.

“Definitely a couple. God, this is so inappropriate.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, it is. How dare you take advantage of your power, hm?” She asks jokingly, pulling him into a kiss that he is quick to reciprocate. “Especially after you’ve been such an asshole to me for 350 whole days.”

“Technically, 351 since it’s way over midnight.” Seungmin replies with a smug grin.

“Ah, there is the asshole.”

“I’ll never stop being an asshole to you, even when we’re married and have 3 kids. Hope you know what you signed up for.” He chuckles.

“I know, I know. But that also means you have to know what you signed up for. No more working on holidays! I’d rather we go on some cute dates, maybe travel somewhere…”

“Which reminds me. Merry Christmas, Mia.” He smiles and kisses her lips again, this time softer, and tenderly.

“Merry Christmas.” She kisses him back, and she feels happiness bubbling in her chest, next to all the butterflies flying erratically in her stomach.

Turns out that Kim Seungmin is not that much of an asshole, and she has some big feelings for him, which make her more excited than ever for their future of working next to each other, for now as lawyer and assistant, and in a few months, hopefully, as equals.

~The End~

~

Hope you enjoyed this short story!

If you want to request a Oneshot, send me a number between 1-2675 and who it should be about, and I'll do my best!

Love,

Storm

[lostgirlmuseum]

Pulse 💗

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader

Words: 600 (exactly 600, holy moly)

Warnings: None really, just mentions of anxiety and adhd. Wrote this within an hour, sorry if its bad

A/N: Self indulgent fic alert! This goes out to all my peeps who struggle with ADHD/anxiety. It sucks, but hang in there!

Divider credit: @saradika

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up from the papers on your desk.

A brief second passed, and the door creaked open. A cautious Bucky peeked his head in.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.

You suddenly became aware of your leg bouncing 70 miles an hour, and forced yourself to stop. 

“Yes, why?” You replied, ignoring the urge to get up and walk around.

“Well, I—” he hesitated, and brought his hand to rub the back of his neck, “I was passing by and I heard your heartbeat going really fast—super hearing and all that,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“120,” you stated, glancing at your watch.

“What?”

“My heart rate is 120 right now.”

“That’s pretty high for just sitting,” he responded, having a hard time hiding his concern.

“Well, y’know, anxiety,” you breathily laughed, but it wasn’t that funny.

“What are you anxious about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nothing.” You sighed, lowering your pen and facing him. At this point he was now in your room, perched in front of your door.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Seriously, I’m kinda freaking out over nothing right now.”

“C’mon, you’re always telling me I’m valid for having concerns, you are too.”

“No, I mean there is literally no singular thing I’m anxious about right now—it’s just physical anxiety, the general feeling that I’m going crazy, or dying, I don’t know, both I guess. That sounds so dramatic. I really am fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I am, yeah?” You rambled on and on, and cursed yourself when you noticed your leg had started bouncing again.

“I don’t think you’re okay, do you want me to bring you to Dr. Cho?”

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t think there’s much she can do. The worst of this should pass in thirty minutes anyway, it’s just my meds.”

“Oh.” 

You could tell Bucky wanted to ask more, but wasn’t sure if it was polite.

“I have ADD. ADHD, whatever you want to call it. So I take medicine so I can focus on certain tasks, like these reports. And it does help me focus, but it’s also a stimulant, so it also gives me a lot of anxiety, which is totally awesome!” You scoffed.

“Why do you keep stopping your leg from bouncing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to annoy you.”

“If bouncing your leg makes you feel better, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I feel like I’m embarrassing myself,” you whined. 

Beep.

You looked at your watch.

“Oh, look at that, 126!”

“Do you—would…would a hug be something that would help you? Calm you down?” He offered, casually putting his arms out for emphasis.

“Sure, Bucky,” you smiled, and stood up to meet him halfway. You knew it wouldn’t fix it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Bucky wrapped you in a big embrace, and you were shocked by how warm and teddy-like it was. You gave a small sigh, and rested your face in his neck, knowing you weren’t going to be the first to let go.

He held onto you for longer than you expected, just calmly swaying together in your room. 

To your dismay, he eventually let go of you. You were about to thank him and return to your work, but he gently grabbed your wrist and brought your watch to his sight. 

“107. Good, but I think we can do better than that,” he sweetly smiled, and wrapped you back up into his arms. 

“It might take a while.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“As long as it takes.” He cooed.

A/N: Should be either A) studying for a history exam I have tmw, or B) writing my stupid essay that the rough draft is due tmw, but I wrote this instead bc I’m procrastinating  HELP ME

[velteris]

I’ve seen a fair amount of posts complaining about this arc in Frieren and… we are all entitled to our own opinions etc which is why I will be launching into a Defense of Frieren’s Exam Arc :) Keeping it manga spoiler free since it seems like most of these complaints are from anime-only viewers.

For me the main draw of this arc is the world building. We’ve spent all this time with Frieren and Fern as our main perspectives on magic. Because it’s Frieren, the magics we’ve been hearing about have mostly been a little silly and sweet. But now we’re finding out that 1) “mage” is largely still a combat designation, and 2) Frieren and Fern are actually incredibly jack-of-all-trades when it comes to their magic repertoire. The “magic is visualisation” part is starting to be really leant into and we’re seeing more humans as well who seem to specialise in one magic (steel flowers, rocks, clones, ice and water…) It’s cool!! It’s objectively cool! I love being able to see this range that we wouldn’t have had otherwise! Also it’s fucking fantastic to see how much of a BEAST Fern really is when compared to other human mages. And she doesn’t even seem that aware of it.

Coupled with that is being able to see different people’s philosophies toward magic. I think a lot of viewers are kind of down about the sudden huge influx of side characters who they don’t really care about. But these philosophies—Land’s maximum wait-and-watch, Wirbel and Ubel’s vastly different approaches to killing—keep expanding the world and highlighting Frieren and Fern’s own perspectives. It’s soooo good seeing them react to situations not of their own making and people not of their own kind.

We get to see human society that isn’t a village in the middle of nowhere! We get to see Frieren being forced to socialise! We get to see Fern away from her emotional support elf! We get to see how society has changed since the demon king was defeated! I love that Himmel and co ushered in an era of peace, which it is, and yet the world is still full of conflicts. Truly the story continues after the hero is finished.

To address a few specific complaints I’ve seen brought up:

Frieren isn’t about all these nonstop shounen fights.

Agreed! Which is why it’s cool as hell that Frieren’s main badass shounen strategy is “sit very still for 10 hours”. That aside? There actually hasn’t been much actual fighting. You could probably count up the minutes in which actual spells are being cast and it’ll be something like 2 minutes max in the latest ep20. And that’s because it’s not about who beats who, it’s about the philosophies, the worldbuilding, the ways of thinking about magic. This is not a power-measuring contest, much as Genau would like to make it. And the random lucky draw-ness of the Stilles only plays further into that. It is possible to pass this exam without coming into conflict with others, and certainly without battles to the death. It hasn’t ever been about the shounen fights.

The good part of the show was about the delicate melancholy and that’s totally missing here.

I agree that it’s one of the strong points. But the thing with the melancholy is that it only works when juxtaposed against other moments. A story that’s composed of a bunch of unlinked wistful slice-of-life episodes will eventually fall apart because it has no momentum, no driving force. And ten years to Ende is too long to go without at least some conflict. Also, again, ten-hour bird meditation session?

Anyway, there’s melancholy, but how sad it would be if there was nothing but introspection and wistfulness. Frieren is bringing the memories of Himmel forward with her into the future. That means she has to be moving forward, forging new relationships with unrelated people, going into situations that she hasn’t been in before. A Frieren stuck in the past would be against the themes of the show, of remembering and yet moving on.

Why should I care about them spending ages trying to catch a bird?

You don’t like Stille? 🐤 fweet?

Actually I care lots about this funky thing. Indestructible and goes supersonic fast. That’s fucking hilarious. Bird that simply cannot be contained. Genau is a dick for setting up this kind of exam when, Your Honour, my client Stille does not deserve to be imprisoned.

Too many irrelevant side characters who it’s hard to care about, and they’re gonna be thrown away at the end anyway.

Again, it’s the worldbuilding. And also, mild spoilers for stuff that won’t be covered in the anime, but at least one of these side characters does come back and we get more delicious main character development as a result. Though frankly many of these characters are deeply compelling and interesting to me so I don’t rly get this complaint. Give me more Lawine.

Where’s Himmel? What do these exams have to do with the hero party? Frieren is good because of the links to the past.

Frieren is good because of the links to the past, which affect how Frieren responds to the present. The whole point of Frieren is that Frieren’s life continues. And through her new experiences, she comes to understand and reconnect to the emotions she didn’t realise she felt about her past. I don’t care what Himmel would think of the mage exams, I care what Frieren thinks of them now. And the answer is that she doesn’t really give a damn but she’s in here anyway because Fern strongarmed her into it, and then she was forced to adopt two more kids along the way, and all of that is something she never would have done if she was still hermiting in the Central Lands. Somehow we are still getting Himmel flashbacks anyway? So? He’s still haunting the narrative guys. Just because Frieren isn’t saying “that’s what Hero Himmel would do” out loud in these circumstances doesn’t mean his ghost isn’t here.

Even so, Frieren clearly recognises the name Serie. Do not fear. There is going to be more about links to the past.

I miss Stark.

Fair enough. It’s okay, he’s just on vacation rn. Having an appy juice.

It’s taking too long. The arc is too slow.

It’s only been three episodes… I’ve seen people going “it’s already been three episodes!” but what? Really? Is that considered an excessive amount of time now?? Given the amount of story covered I think it’s quite reasonable? There’s still 8 episodes to go in which we cover the remaining exam stages. Have some patience like Frieren. The payoffs are being set up; they’ll resolve before the end of the mage exam arc. In the meantime, let’s enjoy theorising about the soft magic system and hollering for full auto Fern.

[alloverthegaf]

Criminal Minds | Rationality

S01 E09 Derailed | Spencer-Centric | Gen | Angst | Character Study

not a full fic so not posting on AO3 but considering it's the first thing I've really written in years and I like how it came out I gotta post it somewhere @ceruleaneyebrows was a huge help with plant analogy which I only used for one sentence in here but I really wanted to get it right so huge appreciation to them

“No.”

“I – I used to do it during college exams! I can make it appear, I can make it disappear – “

“We can’t risk giving him another agent as a hostage.”

“We have to do something!”

Spencer sees the brief hesitation on Hotch’s face, thinks for a moment he’s won, then –

“Alright Reid,” Morgan is standing up, squaring his shoulders, ready for action. “Let’s go. Teach it to me.”

And that’s where Spencer feels the familiar sense of shame. It’s not a priority right now – Elle is – but he doesn’t miss the contradiction. If he volunteers, they don’t want to risk it. Morgan steps up, and no one batts an eye.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He isn’t, really. And the rational part of his brain recognises he’s twenty four years old, barely earned his gun license, and the weight and shape of a Jersey Blueberry vine in the middle of Winter. Rationally, he can understand the hesitation over letting him face an unstable unsub with a gun, alone, specifically.

Unfortunately, despite the popular ideas society and Morgan have around so-called geniuses, Spencer does not work off entirely rational thoughts. He can understand the logic behind his team not wanting him to take the lead, and still feel fucking awful about it. Because no matter how much he could focus on the facts, the logic, the most reasonable explanation, he can also think ‘they don’t trust me’ and ‘I’m still not good enough’. He can throw all the rationality in the world against the wall and still come out the other side thinking ‘I shouldn’t be here’.

But Elle is in trouble, the civilians in that car are in trouble – and Dr Bryar is in trouble. He didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t ask to be on this train; he didn’t ask for the paranoia, the fear, the desperation to fix what he doesn’t know he never can. Reid knows – had his suspicions by the end of the briefing, was convinced by the first few minutes of live footage – he knows what this man is going through. Not the specifics, certainly, not the details, but he knows how this man feels, he knows what it’s like to fight the inner demons Dr Byar is fighting, because he has been observing and studying this particular illness for as long as he can remember. Before he even knew it was an illness. Before he even knew it was abnormal.

He does eventually manage to convince Gideon, and more importantly Hotch, that he can do this. He can trick their aggressor, he can pull the chip out of thin air, he can save Elle and the other people in that car. Morgan still looks at him with wide and concerned eyes, and Spencer tries again – and fails, again – to just see it rationally. As Morgan being concerned for him, and not concerned for him fucking everything up.

He practices with the chip Hotch pulls from a phone. Secretly he’s proud that his hands don’t shake with everyone’s eyes on them, especially when he fails the first couple of times. Gideon says he’s pulling the plug and Spencer panics. But Spencer’s panic doesn’t show itself in stuttering or quick breathing. It spreads through him, cold, dims his senses around him. The people around him, their doubts emanating off them like radio waves, become muffled, far away. He gets tunnel vision. All he sees is the chip in his hand.

He succeeds. Proves himself, in the smallest way possible. The first step to really, actually proving himself. Asks them to look like they’ll see him again, plays it off as a joke, tries to ignore the hollow pit in his stomach slowly growing wider the longer they look at him with such defeat.

Then he gets stuck on the train too. Proves Hotch right, proves Morgan right. Becomes another liability, instead of the solution.

The story of his life.

Dr Bryar shoots the corded phone after Spencer tries to convince him to answer it. Cuts off their one form of communication. Another failure.

When he realises Dr Bryar is speaking to someone the rest of them can’t see or hear, that’s when the last pieces come together. He flashes back to his childhood kitchen, speaking to the empty chair next to his mother to keep her calm. To the inside of his closet, trying to convince Diana on the other side to listen to him, instead of the invisible friend whispering in her ear.

Finally, Spencer sees a way to end this, and if it means bringing things a little close to home… it’s the least he can do at this point.

In the end, even that feels like a failure, because he doesn’t manage to keep Bryar alive. He can’t save Bryar, who deserved to be safe as much as any of the man’s hostages.

Elle is going to be okay. Dr Deaton, they are informed the next day, will also survive. All of the hostages can go on with their lives, trauma aside. The only one dead is their shooter, their hostage taker. It’s the second best outcome they can ever get out of a case, and second best is still pretty good in the eyes of the higher ups. No one sheds tears over the person with the gun.

Spencer does. That night, alone in his apartment, he cries, silently. He can’t get the fear in Bryar’s eyes out of his head. He can’t stop seeing his mother, trying desperately just to protect herself, being shot and killed for the protection of others.

Rationally, it makes sense. Rationally, the life of one violent aggressor versus the lives of five innocents – depending on how one can measure innocence versus not, but Spencer is depressed enough already to try and avoid going down that train of thought – it’s no question. It’s hardly the trolley problem, fitting as it might be. But he sees his mother in the place of Dr Bryar; his fierce, protective mother who only ever wanted the best for her son – the woman who risked and lost her sanity so her unborn child would be unaffected by her medication – and rationality doesn’t come into it.

Spencer knows everyone thinks he sees the world in black and white, in rationality and logic, but how can he? How can he, when everything he learned growing up refused common sense? He watched his beautiful mother, full of life and love, slowly lose her mind, piece by piece, watched his cowardly father vanish in front of him, watched and felt as people praised him and beat him in turn for his own intelligence. Nothing made sense growing up, nothing was rational or logical.

Radio waves make sense. Evolution makes sense. Mathematics make sense.

People have never made sense to Spencer. It’s why he became so invested in psychology so young. It’s why he pursued knowledge of the human mind, knowledge of the twisted mind so doggedly, to the point where the famous Jason Gideon was pursuing him. Because despite his so-called genius, people and their logic – what they deem rational, what they see as black and white – have never made sense.

Spencer cries for Bryar, he cries for his mom, and even if he refuses to admit it, he cries a little for himself.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

33 for ⚡️:

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It all sort of happens at once. 

To Buck. Or not to Buck. Nothing is happening to Buck. It’s happening to everyone else. And that’s fine. That’s totally fine. Buck is an adult and he can totally handle changes that are great for other people and maybe not as great for him. He can. 

It starts with Bobby. 

At the end of their shift, he announces that he just received the news that Hen has passed her captain’s exam. Therefore, starting next month, she will be captain of the 118, while Bobby promotes to Battalion Chief. And, see, that’s excellent news. Really fantastic. Amazing for Hen, who absolutely deserves permanent rank as captain. Buck is thrilled for her. And he’s thrilled for Bobby, too. Even if he’s also kind of sad about it. 

Okay, not kind of sad. Very sad. Like he’s closing the book on a hugely important chapter of his life. Maybe it’s Buck’s fault. He’s holding on too tightly to that chapter. A lot has changed, after all. Marriage, home ownership, fatherhood. He’s not the kid that needed Bobby to show him how to be a man. Even if, a lot of the time, he still feels like he is. Maybe the best thing Buck can do is release his grip and let their relationship change. Not end. Change. Because certainly he’s never going to exit their lives, simply because of work. 

---

36 for 🪩:

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In high school, Buck was mostly focused on football, and hadn’t taken grades or anything else too seriously. He’ll admit to spending a lot of time partying, taking part in senior pranks, and not attending class as often as he should have. Eddie had a pregnant girlfriend and was weeks away from enlisting. So… Yeah, no prom for him. He’d stopped giving a shit about high school the moment life became overwhelmingly more adult than he was ready for. 

On the other hand, Christopher is doing the whole thing right. Or, traditionally right. Eddie doesn’t want to attach moral value to how a kid is living their life at seventeen. He’s not his parents. However, Christopher in senior year is perhaps a representation of what a parent would hope their child would be doing. Certainly, Eddie is very proud of him. He’s focusing on his grades, he’s attending all the senior events, he’s got a great group of friends, and, for a reason neither Eddie or Buck understand, he volunteered for the prom committee. 

After the wedding date was chosen. He volunteered after the wedding date was finalized. 

They hadn’t thought much of it when he announced it. 

“It’s good on my applications and I want to help,” Chris had reasoned. So Eddie and Buck applauded him. After all, it’s good to get involved. Be proactive. Help out. Again, Eddie is very proud of the man his son is becoming. Incredibly proud. 

But by mid-May, things are getting sort of insane. 

Between work, wedding prep, and prom prep, Eddie thinks he’s going insane. He’s somehow a constant driver for Chris and his fellow prom committee member, Ainsley, to every decor and catering consultation trip. Ainsley is particular, and Chris seems to want to go along with her every whim, leaving Eddie as chauffeur to two type-A teenagers. Lots of stuff is being stored at the house, which is already full of wedding stuff. On top of that, his phone always seems to be ringing. Caterers, venues, tailors, etcetera. Eddie hates planning events, he’s learned. Even if he’s just in the periphery, with Chris or Buck actually being the ones doing the planning. He just knows. He hates it. 

[iamthemaestro]

tagged by @meerawrites for an oc ask game! this is cute

What is something that your OC would never purchase for themselves, but would be (secretly?) delighted to receive as a gift?

hmm… I almost want to say some sort of instrument. I have a lot of thoughts about percy and music as Someone Whose Entire Thing Is Music. he doesn’t consider himself particularly musical because it’s always been sort of like. an unrequited… hobby? any opportunity he had to study it as a child was swiftly lost when he went to sea but I think deep down he very much wishes he could have stuck with it and now he suffers from the “I can’t start a new thing I’m already this old” phenomenon. I think if someone believed in him he could do it

Is your OC ticklish? Has anyone ever dared to find out?

I’m not even sure that he knows. guy who is so touch starved. the answer is probably yes

How easy does your OC find it to apologize?

the thing about percy is that he has a very strong sense of pride but Also a very strong sense of decency, and, perhaps even more significantly, a very deeply ingrained guilt complex. there are a lot of things he Thinks he needs to apologize for but doesn't, and a number of things he is not fully capable of realizing warrant an apology. but he does have some very revealing moments that surprise even him near the start of his story.

When did your OC first see a dead body? If they have not seen one yet, how might they react to doing so?

probably as a teenager—he was shuttled into the navy, technically not “legally,” at a very young age thanks to his father’s influence and despite the fact that he did not actively grow up during war, it’s still military service and piracy is rampant. I don’t think he took it well but some two decades of service have roughed him out a bit.

Does your OC have any recurring dreams? Have they ever told anyone else about them?

hm… hard to say as a person who generally does not experience recurring dreams but I do project my Periodic Nausea-Inducing Anxiety Dreams With No Identifiable Cause on him. to cope

Is your OC stingy with their money (or other resources)? Or are they something of a spendthrift?

I would say for a person who comes from money, which percy does, he's not super ostentatious, but he is certainly not stingy. while I wouldn't call him a dandy, he puts a very high value on being well-dressed, and while the navy has taught him a lot about being resourceful, he will not object to paying a little more for a nice brocade or a superfine wool.

Does your OC have a sweet tooth? Or do they prefer to avoid sweets and sugary treats?

I think secretly maybe a little bit but it is most obvious in his alcohol choices. percy's Alcoholic Beverage Of Choice is without fail either 1. a good wine or 2. some sort of stupid frou frou cocktail

Is your OC easily provoked by insults or mockery?

far less in his later life than throughout the first thirtysomething years. frankly it's insults to Other People that will really set him off, in the very gentlemanly "I Will Duel You About This If It Comes To It" sort of way. luckily he has more self-preservation than to be doing that left and right

Where is somewhere your OC has visited that they never want to visit again?

hmm… percy is a traveller at heart and generally will not decry a place for trivial reasons. but I think he would be fine to never set foot in the admiralty building again. Too Many stressful interactions have occurred there over the course of his career and frankly he is unsure he will ever recover from his disastrous first attempt at the lieutenant’s exam even 15 full years later

Is your OC ever somewhat flirtatious?

if there is one thing about percy winchester it's that he is Wildly In Love With Sydney. other than that he is Solidly demisexual. he can get flirty with sydney, especially when he's drunk, but not with other people—even if he were not already deeply committed to someone, he just doesn't experience that kind of attraction casually

tagging @neon-sunsets (hehe) @ganymedian @aranov @chiropteracupola ANY OC HAVING MUTUALS!! if you want :)

I’ll compile the list of questions initially given to me here:

What is something that your OC would never purchase for themselves, but would be (secretly?) delighted to receive as a gift?

Is your OC ticklish? Has anyone ever dared to find out?

How easy does your OC find it to apologize?

When did your OC first see a dead body? If they have not seen one yet, how might they react to doing so?

Does your OC have any recurring dreams? Have they ever told anyone else about them?

Is your OC stingy with their money (or other resources)? Or are they something of a spendthrift?

Does your OC have a sweet tooth? Or do they prefer to avoid sweets and sugary treats?

Is your OC easily provoked by insults or mockery?

Where is somewhere your OC has visited that they never want to visit again?

Is your OC ever somewhat flirtatious?

[lightlycareless]

Wait I'm curious if naoya has a scar from y/n (yk from that night) cuz if he has one I'd would be really funny (and sad a little) after they make out to be asked how did he got that scar on his face 😭😭😭

Heya anon!

I almost forgot about that hahahahahah but anyways, I decided to write a little something of how I think it would go down because why the hell not.

Now, forgive me if this is not that proofread, it was just a quick something I wanted to share after all the angst :> specially after the last chapter I posted :))))))

I hope you enjoy this small thing I wrote 🥺 nnnnghhhhhhhhhhh I love me some fluff. (also, this is in reference to something that happened right over here. That is very, VERY nsfw so proceed with caution)

Naoya and you were cuddling together after a long, hard day of work. He’d just gotten back home from missions, tired of being away from home and overall dealing with people who he didn’t even like—while you from overseeing most, if not all, tasks around the estate—with him absent most of the time, you were also left to tend to his own duties, which were just overwhelming as yours.

So, it’s safe to say both were exhausted, missed one another very, very much, and wanted nothing more than to bask in each other’s warmth.

However, as much as both wished to relax, it would have to take setback when a peculiar sight catches your interest. It’s subtle, almost unnoticeable, the thin streak of discolored skin splayed across his cheek, but to your observants, worrisome eyes it’s all too obvious.

“Did you always have this scar?” you ask, raising your hand to his face and gently pressing your thumbs against it, admiring the contrast between surfaces. While his skin was naturally soft, his scar felt smoother, the aftermath of a rather deep injury…

“No” he responds, instinctively leaning into your touch. “But it’s been a while since I’ve had it.”

You frown, failing to remember when it happened, you think you would’ve noticed if Naoya ever came back home with a bandage or a nasty scar on his face, yet you can’t recall…

“A mission?” you ponder, and he shakes his head with a chuckle.

“No. Actually… I got it from you.” Naoya reveals, and then, your heart sinks, almost as if the thought of you hurting your husband was too big to comprehend.

Sure, you won’t deny that the beginning of this marriage was far from ideal, rocky beyond any questionable doubt… but even then, you never imagined yourself capable of hurting someone, or at least… doing so without eventually discussing it.

How it managed to slip your mind was surprising, or how he never brought it up to conversation…

“When?” you eventually ask, Naoya sighs.

“The day before my exam—the grade one, the first one, remember?”

You frown, looking back on your memories, and then… there it is. That one awful night where you didn’t want anything but stay as far away as possible from your husband.

This was just one of many examples of how much this relationship has changed, for when you once cowered in fear in his presence, retaliating whenever possible, however possible, now can’t imagine a day without him.

And certainly, wouldn’t dream of hurting him.

“Oh…” you murmur, guilt now weighing heavy in your mind. “I didn’t think it actually…”

“No, don’t think about it” he says upon noticing the turmoil in your eyes. “It was long ago and besides… I think I deserved it.”

You press your lips together.

“That doesn’t mean it was right.” you respond. “…even if we were different back then.”

He supposes that statement fits with a lot of things that happened in the early stages of this marriage—specifically the ones he did.

Even if they’ve moved past this difficult stage of their life, Naoya knows that he’ll never be able to make it up to you—no matter what he did, there’s always going to be something in the back of his mind telling him you’ll never truly forgive him.

That he’s not good enough, and that you’re better off with someone else.

But that wasn’t true. If you staying with him and showing concern for his injuries wasn’t proof enough that you’ve forgiven him… then perhaps you needed to remind him.

“Does it still hurt?” you ask.

“No, it never did, really— wasn’t that deep.” He adds with a chuckle. “Didn’t know you had it in you though.”

You pout and this just makes him laugh even more, fluster you even more… before going completely quiet.

No words, no gestures, just both gently looking at each other’s eyes and enjoying the presence of the other, as if nothing outside that room mattered.

After a few seconds, you decide to lean forward, pressing your lips against his cheek and kissing his scar.

Naoya’s heart warms at your gesture, and the consuming urge to embrace you tightly against him overcomes him.

“I’m sorry” you say, leaning deeper into his chest, you’re so close to him you could literally heart the alluring sound of his rapid heartbeat.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault” he whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. Even when he was the one hurt, Naoya still finds it in himself to comfort you… The thought alone makes you hug him tighter, heart quickening as you bask in his care. “Besides, it’s a nice scar—I can proudly say my wife did it to me after one particularly rough night…”

“Ah! How—what a pervert!” you gasp, pulling your face away from his chest and looking up to him.

“Am I not telling the truth?” he chuckles.

“I guess that’s one way to put it…” you huff, sighing before leaning back into him.

…

…

“Does it bother you?” Naoya inquiries upon hearing the gears in your head, you sigh once more.

“I won’t be able to stop seeing it now” you confess. “It’s all I’m going to think about when I see your face.”

“Well, if you must… there is a way you can make it up to me” Naoya says, and you swear you could hear him smile.

“Be serious!” you gasp upon catching his intentions, looking up to him “Can’t think of anything else, can you?!”

“Who said anything about that?!” He laughs back “I was talking about—this”

Naoya leans forward, pressing a kick peck on your lips.

“And this”

Another kiss.

“And this too”

One more.

“And that as well”

And another, and another, and another—too many for you to keep count, far too embarrassed to even do so.

“Stop it!” you’d whine when Naoya pressed your cheeks together, forcing a pout out of you. 

“You’re adorable—did you know that?” He chuckles, kissing your pout. “The cutest, most adorable wife ever”

“Is this your idea of making it up to you?! By embarrassing me?” you manage to mutter, tightly closing your eyes as he continues to kiss you. “Stop it! You’re making me all red!!”

“You make it too easy” he jests “And that, amongst other things, is what makes me love you so, so much.”

It’s unfair how he always managed to experience a wide range of emotions in less than a second—from being flustered by his customary and excessive display of affection, to completely enthralled by it, relishing in his love and how lucky you were to have found your soulmate.

It was rough. Almost impossible to find this side of Naoya, help him put down his walls and become vulnerable.

But now that it’s here, you’ll do everything in your power to protect him, to take care of him, love him. You never want him to suffer ever again.

This time, you’re the one leaning forward, doing your best to kiss him through the silly position he had you—and Naoya simply finds your attempts even more adorable.

He gives you one last kiss before cupping your face and making you look at him.

“While I’ll always regret the way I treated you in the beginning of this marriage… I’ll never regret meeting you” he says “With you I’ve learned what it is to be happy, to be cherished just by who I am and not what I represent. With you, I can completely be myself without fear of being humiliated…

With you…. I’ve learned what it is to love and be loved.

And I find it unfair that someone as amazing as you has to suffer for things we did in the past, back when we didn’t know each other, when we had the whole world against us.

So, I don’t want you to dwell in my scar, Y/N. It’s… nothing from a past we’ve long moved on from, you know? If anything, I should be the one carrying that burden… and I probably will, for the rest of my life.” He pauses, you press your lips together, holding back tears. “I want you to focus on our future, what lies ahead for the two of us. Because I, for once, can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, finding them to be nothing but the perfect representation of your relationship with him.

Naoya has given you so many things you’ve only dreamed of, considered unobtainable—like one of those situations where everyone around you was bound to experience them, except you.

Until he came along, and then, that’s when you realized how lonely you were, to the point where the mere thought of being without Naoya hurt too much to even consider.

In more ways than one, he made you whole, he introduced you to a world of completely different experiences. With him you smiled, and you laughed, but you also cried, felt what it was to be in an ocean of loneliness—and yet, you don’t resent him, because you’ve learned the most important lesson of them all: to forgive, and be forgiven.

It takes lots of effort to overcome such difficulties, but with love and patience, everything is possible.

And just as Naoya said, these are things of the past. He had long paid for his actions and redeemed himself, and there was no use in pondering on them if they’re going to sway you away from the future.

From the adversities and blessings, the two are to face together.

“I love you” you say back “And I also can’t wait to live out the rest of my life with you.”

Eternity seems too short of a time to be with him, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[lavienbleuuu]

Human brain ingredients in the existence of bad people in our life.

After acknowledging that it’s PFC’s responsibility (still intercorrelated with other parts of the brain), here’s come the intriguing part. Let’s assume that the current technology is very sophisticated that we can create a superhuman ability to increase the PFC capabilities to the maximal point, what would it be?

What will be guaranteed with that inhuman PFC capabilities?

Because we should agree that the fact you wouldn’t create a bad decision if you know it’s a bad decision isn’t it?

What we can infer from the research experiment on our PFC activities when doing a cheat.

I’ve seen some research on how our brain reacts when cheating on something (it can be an exam, a girlfriend, or anything ) in our PFC. There’s one researcher who gave a test to 50 people where they have to finish a task of a problem, but at the same time they got the cheat sheet (if they use it will be considered cheating)

And at the end of the experiments resulting like this:

For those who didn’t cheat their PFC activity is monotone and has no pulse at all.

Meanwhile, for the rest who uses the cheat sheet, their PFC activity looks like a spike.

One possible inference from these results is that the PFC plays a role in decision-making and impulse control and that individuals who engage in dishonest behavior may exhibit different patterns of PFC activity compared to those who do not cheat. It is also possible that using a cheat sheet activates the PFC in a way that is different from simply trying to solve a problem or task without the use of external aids.

Further research would be needed to confirm these inferences and to better understand the relationship between PFC activity and cheating behavior. Additionally, it would be important to control for other factors that may influence PFC activity, such as individual differences in cognitive abilities and problem-solving strategies.

A good decision-maker doesn’t guarantee the character of someone.

A good decision-maker refers to someone who has the ability to make thoughtful and well-considered choices. This may involve considering multiple options and their potential outcomes, weighing the pros and cons of each option, and making a decision based on logical reasoning and careful analysis.

While being a good decision-maker is certainly an important skill to have, it does not necessarily guarantee the character of someone. Character refers to the unique qualities and traits that make up an individual’s personality and identity. It includes attributes such as honesty, integrity, compassion, and courage, which may not necessarily be related to decision-making ability.

Therefore, while a good decision-maker may be able to make choices that are logical and well-considered, this does not necessarily mean that they will always exhibit good character. For example, a good decision-maker may choose to act in a dishonest or unethical way, even if this goes against their own moral principles. In this way, a person’s character is not solely determined by their ability to make good decisions, but also by the values and beliefs that they hold and the choices they make based on those values and beliefs.

How does being aware of your “moral compass” can help you not create a bad decision?

Your “moral compass” refers to your internalized set of values and beliefs that guide your moral reasoning and decision-making. This can include things like your personal moral code, your religious or spiritual beliefs, and your cultural and societal values.

Being aware of your moral compass can help you avoid making bad decisions because it provides you with a framework for making moral judgments. By understanding your own values and beliefs, you can more easily identify which actions and behaviors align with your moral principles, and which do not. This can help you make choices that are consistent with your moral beliefs, rather than acting in ways that go against your own values.

For example, if your moral compass includes a belief in honesty and integrity, being aware of this belief can help you avoid making decisions that involve lying or cheating. By recognizing the importance of honesty to your own moral beliefs, you can make choices that align with this value, rather than acting in ways that go against it.

Building your own identity to help your character development.

I’ve seen some insights about the correlation between identity, character development, and decision-making.

character → decision making → create an Identity of yourself

but you can do it also deductively or with a reverse approach, by

creating your own identity → decision making → build a character

The tipping point is when you create your own identity or a new brand of how you perceive yourself, you will think twice about whether you’re going to create a decision or not because of the identity on yourself that you’ve put on it. One thing is for sure, we need to differentiate identity and label this will be another topic because I believe “labeling” is a two-sided sword because there will be no one that enough to be labeled in one label, myself is too big to be constrained by the label. One of example how identity can help you to create decision is by one of story that also inspired me to bring this topic is Afutami (one of my favorite book author), she put the identity for herself is as imperfect environmentalist, here are some of the thoughts when she put herself as imperfect environmentalist

Is it the Afutami (the imperfect environmentalist) would do?

What would imperfect environmentalist do if they see this

What for I am doing this, why do I have to create my own identity as imperfect environmentalist?

When I have a conversation with my psychology friends at the University of Indonesia, she tells me about this theorem, and because I think it’s relevant and make sense so that I put this theorem to my medium.

According to Bronfenbrenner’s theory, the microsystem is the immediate environment that a child interacts with on a daily basis, such as family, friends, and teachers. The mesosystem is the connection between different elements of the microsystem, such as the relationship between a child’s family and school. The exosystem is the broader environment that a child is not directly involved in, but still affects their development, such as the community in which they live. Finally, the macrosystem is the cultural and societal context in which a child is raised, such as the country they live in and its cultural norms and values.

So basically, it’s true that we all developed by our closest system or circumstances. I think this is one of the roots of why our parents don’t want to put us in a bad environment because everything is intercorrelated in our character development journey. By being aware of our position, environment, and our existence, we can try to find a way to build our own character.’

“Your character will be what you yourself choose to make it.” — L. Frank Baum

[magnumversumplus]

Rasvisr I: The Escape Room

A Fractured Fairy Tale Retelling Of: Rapunzel

Written By Joseph M.

His name was Jan-Pitr Rasvisr, but his fellows just called him Jairan. He was not a wealthy man by any means, only submitting to the people above him. He wore an pearl-black outfit from his suit to his shoes, and he spoke in a gentle, charming manner. His gestures were like silky flower petals, and the way he waved put an immediate rest to any doubts about his character.

The way he pulled people into his world so quickly was something that gathered a lot of attention from many multi-million dollar corporations seeking a charming spokesperson, and his pleasant voice–a soothing tune of words spoken with the low vibrations of a cello–was what got him the job at the US government’s Federal Bureau of Investigation.

He was initially elated to hear that he got such a prestigious job, protecting the security of the nation and ensuring the safety of the people. He could see it now: Agent Jairan. But he quickly learned that protecting the people was only half of the battle–he would also have to go into the battle for them, lay down his life and even risk disappearing if things went south, never getting honored for his achievements.

He didn’t do it for the honor, but he certainly wanted honor now. He was locked in a tower by a man he simply knew as “Jeremy,” and he didn’t know why. He was kidnapped, snatched away perhaps as part of some unknown plot. Perhaps it was for the reason only he knew of, and perhaps this Jeremy fellow knew that reason as well.

Field Doctor’s Note

Doctor’s Name: Doctor Aaron F., PHD

Patient Name: Rasvisr, Jan-Pitr

Nickname (If Applicable): Jairan

Exam Date: 12/23/1998

Reason For Exam (If Applicable): Have been with patient for seven years. Noticed rapid hair growth after a mission busting American crime group

Exam Notes: Patient shows no signs of illness. His accelerated hair growth doesn’t seem to stop. May have to put him on meds if no signs of slowing hair growth.

Jairan looked around him, but he saw nothing. He was only in a tower with no escape. The only escape was sealed shut; it was a wooden door taking up the appearance of a dungeon entrance. He felt a noticeable amount of sweat in his hair and beneath his chin, and he saw nothing around him in this prison but a wooden fold-out bunker bed with a cloth window shade for a blanket and a pillow stuffed with feathers, the exaggerated type of room he thought he would only have to see in movies.

He looked for immediate escapes, but there seemed to be none. The only viable looking means of escaping the dungeon tower he was in was the window. He estimated himself to be about seven stories up, so that didn’t seem like a good option. Besides, Jeremy was drawing near.

Jeremy wore a white hockey mask and had a gruff, off-putting snarl in his voice. He had black hair puffing up from behind the mask and he always carried a chessboard. Though he was the one taking Jairan captive, he didn’t want to bore the agent to death. They always played chess when they had the chance, one game a day.

Jairan wasn’t too good at chess, but he didn’t have the time to study now. He remembered phoning a good agent friend of his, Agent Judith Frances, just before he was knocked unconscious by a blunt object, probably by a baseball bat… or something.

Though he did send a frantic SOS, the onus was on him to find a way to get Judith up and both of them down once she arrived, which wasn’t too late after he called for her. He let down his hair quickly, billowing black strands of hair like strands of a matte black fabric dress. Once she climbed up, the onus was on them both to figure out how to get down.

The door was sealed shut, but at heart it was still at most a wooden door. Judith’s ax, swung quickly enough, broke the door down. There was a long, winding staircase leading them to the exit. The escape seemed anything but difficult–an easy get-in, acquire the hostage, and get-out operation–but Jeremy was waiting for them at the end of the staircase.

As it turns out, Jeremy wanted Jairan’s hair. He heard of the agent’s exploits, and he believed in superstitions about his hair, that it was anything more than unfortunate that he couldn’t control his hair growth. Jairan wondered if it was that way, but he didn’t know that for sure. Jeremy was stopping them with nothing but his body, willing to let them attack him viciously if it meant he could keep Jairan in whatever tower he had locked away in.

Jeremy wanted to continue to study Jairan’s hair growth because he believed that it was what was giving him all of his fortune. He had Jairan locked away in the lab below the tower some nights, operating on him and looking at what made Jairan… Jairan. He wanted to have the same fortune and luck Jairan had, but he was too quick to assume that it came from Jairan’s hair.

Jairan, annoyed by Jeremy’s last ditch attempt at stopping him and Judith from leaving the tower, forcefully tried to shove him out of the way, but he wouldn’t budge. He was knocked down temporarily, but got back up; he was a palm tree getting knocked down by a tornado. He straightened his wrinkly white shirt, put his fingers in his white jeans and looked Jairan dead in the eyes through his hockey mask.

Their standoff was seemingly an infinite quagmire.

Field Doctor’s Note

Doctor’s Name: Doctor Aaron F., PHD

Patient Name: Schwartz, William T.

Nickname (If Applicable): N/A

Exam Date: 12/22/1998

Reason For Exam: Patient attempted to escape FBI custody. Brother… Jeremy T. Schwartz… is missing. Both attacked an FBI agent, that agent is now missing. Patient shows no signs of serious injury, though was very hostile towards staff.

Exam Notes: As noted earlier, patient showed no signs of serious injury, though patient had aggressive manners. May need to transfer to a different hospital if issue persists, as present security were not sufficient to prevent patient from attacking staff.

Jairan knocked out Jeremy, sending him falling to the floor. Judith led him deep into the woods, the sunlight obscured by the gently swaying treetops that danced with the breeze. There was seemingly nothing, and then there was something… the was the NYC skyline, and until this moment Jairan had never felt so much joy upon smelling industrial smoke and hearing the bustling cars and choppers and subways until now. After all, being held prisoner would make you long for even a glimpse of the outside world, even if that glimpse was from miles away in New Jersey.

He ran towards the ever-so-beautiful skyline, a blob of metal right triangles and glass squares across a separating body of water. It was so close, yet so far, but distance didn’t matter. He was just happy to see his home, even if it was obfuscated and muddled by the greenhouse gasses it exhaled. This was Agent Jairan, “The Spy Of Spies”, “The Ace In The Hole”, The Trick Up Captain Spade’s Sleeves”, and, “Jan-Pitr Rasvisr: The Guardian Of NY’s Gates”. But most importantly, he was back for good.

[hyperlexichypatia]

I want to take this! I have put more thought into this topic than any human ever should!

I agree that you could certainly make the case that Illyrian genetic engineering, as depicted on SNW, is not eugenicist (it absolutely is in the novels, which I think might be influencing people’s reading). As far as we’re told, it’s not done out of bigotry or supremacism or ableism. In “Ghosts of Illyria,” it’s established to be something they do to survive in inhospitable environments. And then in “The Illyrian Enigma” it’s revealed to be a cultural legacy of Vulcan experimentation (somebody please make IPs stop putting serious universe-affecting information in tie-in comics where it will never be referenced again). I think it’s debatable that any kind of genetic alteration or selection could ever be truly free of eugenic ideology, but you could make the case that it is. 

Notably, though, “Ad Astra Per Aspera” doesn’t make that case. Instead, it makes the case that the stigma on genetic engineering, as a practice, is just an unreasonable prejudice, a carryover from a previous time. It’s basically “It’s wrong to be prejudiced against all augmented people just because some of them did bad things once.” 

You could also make the case that discriminating against individual augmented Illyrians is wrong, because the augmentation was something done to them as children without their consent, and they’re being punished for a choice they had no say in. 

But “Ad Astra” doesn’t really make that case either – and if it did, that would only serve to highlight how unethical the practice of genetic augmentation of children is. Yes, it’s wrong to punish Illyrians for something that was done to them without their consent, but the fact that it was done to them without their consent is exactly what makes it wrong. Another possibly-interesting point is that Una’s parents didn’t just improve her immune system; they also must have designed her to be human-passing – obviously she’s had medical exams, etc., without being outed as an Illyrian, so it must have been effective. And this could have led into some kind of point about marginalized people changing to “pass,” etc. But instead of that being addressed, the story just falls back on “People are only unreasonably prejudiced about this because of the Eugenics Wars.”

When I did an analysis of depictions of eugenics across Star Trek series, I was looking at it through the lens of changing cultural attitudes around eugenics, and this is a really common current attitude about eugenics – that it was wrong, Back Then, that it was done in an oppressive way, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be done ethically now. “The Nazis gave eugenics a bad name” is something people regularly somehow find it in themselves to say, out loud, in the words. 

And to be clear, I don’t think “Ad Astra” was written as pro-eugenics propaganda on purpose. I don’t think the intention that was going around the writers’ room was “Let’s write a story to show that genetic engineering is good.” I think it was “Let’s write a story about how prejudice and discrimination are bad,” which is completely valid, obviously. But using people who practice genetic engineering as the marginalized-group stand-ins was… a writing choice seemingly derived without any understanding of why real-life human genetic augmentation is ethically horrifying. Because they’re not consulting disability liberationists. Because if they were consulting disability liberationists, a whole lot of the major plot points on this show would be very different. 

That said, I think they could still turn it around. Here’s my idea: Introduce a disabled Illyrian. Have an Illyrian show up with a Geordi visor or a Pike hoverchair or some other kind of nifty tech, or make it clear that they take longer than average to assimilate new information because of a learning disability, or something else. And have them mention that they were born this way, and have another character (maybe Uhura, since she seems to be the designated sayer of awkward things at this point, or La’an since she’s reckoning with her augment heritage) say something like: “Wait… if you’re an Illyrian… wouldn’t your parents have… you know… taken care of that?” And the disabled Illyrian say something like: “What? No! What do you think we are? We augment our children to survive in harsh environments, but a mutation like mine doesn’t affect my ability to survive in our colony. We would never change someone just to remove a difference.” 

Introducing other new disabled characters, or reminding us of the disabilities of characters we already have (everyone remembers that Spock has Vulcan dyslexia, right?) would also be great.

what leaves me shocked about the position snw takes on eugenics is that all the writers had to do to have a perfectly competent and uncontroversial episode about refugees being faulted for the mistakes of their home nations was to just not have una defend what was done to her while still condemning the federation for refusing to take her in as someone fleeing what was done to her. the rest of the episode is perfectly fine, which is why most people watched it and didn’t think it was saying anything very terrible. even the stupid comparisons to slavery and apartheid, while corny and out of pocket, like, sure, i see where they’re coming from. legality does not mean ethical. but the writers of the episode either didn’t watch dr. bashir i presume or just resolved “we’re just gonna contrive a reason for eugenics to be justified and then it’s not so bad!” and well, you know, most people under that the freaks who feel comfortable putting their children through invasive procedures because they can’t accept their differences see it as justified.

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

ugh i hate being in year 12 and having to think about what subjects to drop or pick up and what i want to do at uni

[lunarbuck]

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

full masterlist

“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor. 

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since. 

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs. 

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne. 

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics. 

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed. 

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly. 

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something. 

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more. 

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss. 

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t. 

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you. 

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Bucky

She saw me. 

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not. 

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile. 

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure. 

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting. 

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan. 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice. 

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt. 

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body. 

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me. 

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.” I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her. 

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock. 

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed. 

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms. 

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

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[ceterisparibus116]

Hi DD fandom, I don’t usually do this (never have, actually), but I just want to...address this post real quick. I’m NOT trying to put anyone on blast here (and if anyone sees the original post, please be kind), but as a visually impaired person, there’s a lot I want to say.

1. Logic Games

Let’s address the logic games section of the LSAT. I might be misinterpreting, but it sounds to me like OP is saying Matt would struggle with the logic games, such that even with near-perfect scores on the other sections, he’d only net a 160-ish over all.

Now to be fair to OP, the LSAT is definitely not the most accessible thing in the world. And the logic games specifically are solved, generally, by diagramming things. That’s obviously difficult if you’re blind.

However, there are workarounds. “Blind LSAT-takers have historically used tactile mats, raised-line drawing apparatuses or Excel spreadsheets to tackle Logic Games.” Source. Now, I’m not saying those accommodations are easy to get, and maybe Matt wasn’t able to get them. But it’s certainly possible that he was.

Now let’s assume he wasn’t able to get any accommodations.

Even without those accommodations, the LSAT is a skills-based exam. This is key. The LSAT doesn’t test natural ability; it tests your ability to perform specific skills. And there are only a handful of possible types of logic games. You can only see so many “arrange the people sitting in the bus,” “arrange the flowers/trees growing in a garden,” “arrange the order of songs on a playlist,” and “arrange the order of speakers and which room they’ll occupy” prompts before you start to identify the patterns. Some are harder than others, with more variables to consider, but there are not that many variants overall.

Because the LSAT is a skills-based exam, all Matt needs to do, even without accommodations, is figure out a way to organize the information in his head. Now, it’s easier to organize the information in a diagram vs in your head, but all that matters is that the information is organized. It doesn’t matter whether it’s organized on paper or mentally. So saying logic games are “easier” with diagrams than without doesn’t mean that someone who uses diagrams will always score higher than someone who doesn’t; instead, it’s a question of time. It will take Matt more time to learn the harder skill of organizing the information in his head than it would take someone else to learn the easier skill of organizing the information in a diagram. But both skills (organizing mentally vs on paper) are sufficient to get a good score on the LSAT if you just put in the time.

And given that Matt has apparently wanted to be a lawyer since childhood, I have no doubt that he put in the time to master that skill enough to get the score he knew he’d need to go to the school he wanted.

2. Matt’s Personal Statement

This is the slightly more concerning issue. Personal statements are a chance for applicants to show why, aside from LSAT scores and GPAs and letters of recommendation, they would make a good lawyer. They are not the place for a personal sob story, except for two reasons:

a) using the “sob story” to demonstrate how the individual has persevered through hardship; and

b) using the “sob story” to explain certain less-than-outstanding aspects of the application.

In other words, Matt could say: “I’m exceptionally devoted to my studies and motivated by my desire to help others in need, as proven by the fact that even blindness failed to stop me from pursuing law school, despite the fact that law is a vision-intensive profession.”

It’s also possible that Matt could try to artfully say, “My LSAT score wasn’t stellar [if that’s true, which I question, but never mind for now] but that’s only because I’m visually impaired and lacked appropriate accommodations - not because the score actually reflects any deficiency in my reading or logic skills.”

Personally, I find it much more in-character to headcanon that Matt would go the first route rather than the second.

But what is not an option (at least, not a respectable option) is for a person to use their sob story to attempt to manipulate the school into using them as a diversity poster child despite having an inadequate application.

Do some people do that? Maybe, sure. Is that an appropriate thing to do? Absolutely not. Law school, beginning with the application process, is about being a good advocate for other people - it’s not about manipulating the system so you can get a “spot” to which you are not actually entitled. And how do you become entitled to having a “spot”? By having the skills good advocacy requires.*

Ultimately, attempting to shortcut the system to accept a person who is not a good advocate (but who has a great sob story) is depriving future clients of adequate representation.

Not to be dramatic, but Matt would rather die.

*I’m not saying that the application process is the perfect measure of the skills that will make you a good lawyer. But it’s sure better than letting people in based on how compelling their sob story is rather than based on their actual relevant skills.

3. Diversity Poster Boy

Now let’s address the broader concerns with the idea of a diversity poster boy. These concerns relate to society as a whole, not to any particular headcanon or to Matt as a fictional character, so I’m stepping out of the DD world for this part of the discussion.

What happens when we talk about diversity poster kids? What happens when we talk about people using hardship (including disabilities) to get an edge over people with more privilege? What happens when we talk about institutions like law schools accepting candidates not based on their qualifications but based instead on meeting some kind of diversity quota?

The result is that when people do overcome hardship and even oppression to get a spot at the table, everyone else says, “Oh, you’re the diversity hire.” People refuse to consider that maybe you’re there on your own merits, because the first thing they see about you is your diversity, and they assume that the only way you got to where you are is via manipulation.

Think about what it’s like, as a disabled person or any person of a “diverse” background, to live with that day after day. Where every accomplishment is tainted by people whispering, “But you didn’t really earn that, did you? You just flaunted your disability.”

I hope I don’t have to spell out how exhausting that is.

Now if there is hard evidence that people who are otherwise unqualified for a position are being accepted purely to meet some kind of quota...that’s one thing. We should absolutely be talking about that, especially in the legal profession - because it doesn’t do a client any good to have a lawyer who’s “diverse” if that lawyer doesn’t know how to actually help them.

But just throwing these terms around, detached from any statistical analysis, like this is just A Thing That Happens All The Time...we need to stop. It’s not helpful or funny. It’s harmful.

So please, let’s be careful.

[heliads]

A short reader with the Avengers loves to wrap himself in a blanket like a cocoon or a burrito and lie all over the compound despite her young age but everyone calls her old, a kind of fluff And if I am allowed to add some details, it is often like she’s a sun ball in the compound, but in the needy moment, her character changes to firmness and horror, as if she is another person, like a cinnamon roll that may kill you.

me when i am a cinnamon roll that also kills

masterlist

You feel like doing absolutely nothing at all. It is the most wonderful feeling at all for a teenager, a student, someone born for greatness but forced to take exams. There is also the side detail that you happen to be an Avenger, which also severely multiplies your exhaustion after each and every mission. 

That being said, the whole Avenging business tends to be pretty fun. You get a special uniform, something that always makes a girl feel important, and you get to save the world at least once a week. Maybe you’ll never have a normal life again, but let’s be real, who’d want normalcy if they could have all this?

See, you say ‘all this’ like you’re really taking advantage of all the countless resources being an Avenger has to offer, but in truth you suppose you’d say that your favorite part of this sort of life is what happens behind the scenes. Anyone can talk about the missions, the technology, the danger, but what you love most is what no one outside of the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. knows about.

What happens in the Tower is best of all. That’s when the alter egos are finally dropped, when masks are taken off and weapons tossed aside. After all, where else could you see Black Widow and Thor, God of Thunder locked into the most intense game of table tennis you’ve ever seen in your life? And has anyone in the world ever seen what happens on Avengers game nights?

No, the team dynamics are superior beyond anything else. Seeing as you’re still in school, the other Avengers have offered numerous times for you to spend the hours that aren’t on missions or in training back at your home, but you have to say that you’d choose this every time. For one thing, your family just doesn’t understand what it’s like to live in this sort of world.

For another, you happen to like this quite a bit. That’s why you head directly to the Avengers Tower every day after the final bell rings. You can’t say that your friends from class don’t get it, either. If they could, anyone would gladly trade their normal lives for the thrill of being an Avenger. You just happen to be lucky enough to do it for real.

Of course, not many people would count your life as lucky. You happened to be born as something different than human, something odd, something uncanny. You started manifesting signs of unnatural abilities around the time you entered high school. If freshman year wasn’t stressful enough as is, trying to navigate the fact that you suddenly had inhuman abilities was definitely the icing on the cake.

The nice thing is that S.H.I.E.L.D. found you out pretty quickly. You were doing your best to control your newfound abilities, but the first few times that your powers showed themselves ended up more bad than good. That’s when they stepped in to lend a helping hand, and also see if you’d be interested in joining the whole Avenging business.

Although your powers have certainly seemed like a burden at times, you do have to admit that they’re pretty cool. Quite literally, as it turns out– you have the ability to create snow and ice out of nothing. You can spin webs of frost from your fingertips, shoot daggers of ice as sharp as a blade across a room, and conjure up snowstorms so thick that even Tony’s Iron Man suit can’t see through it.

Needless to say, joining the Avengers and finally having access to training facilities where you could test the limits of your powers was one of the best things that could have happened to you. At last, you had a grip on what you could do and couldn’t. Being able to use those abilities to save the world doesn’t hurt, either.

Now, you hang around the Avengers complex all the time, do your best to bother the others, and generally have a good time. Missions come fairly frequently, as the world seems to try its hardest to mess up whenever possible, but it doesn’t stress you out all that much. You have no doubt that’s because the other Avengers try to shelter you as much as they can, but they’ve been letting you into more and more secrets as you get older.

Right now, though, you’re not all that concerned with trying to figure out what they’re keeping from you. Most of the time, it’s just bureaucratic nonsense, and you could do without that anyway. If they want to distance you from the red tape and meaningless jumble of rules that no one follows, good for them. You’re perfectly fine just cruising through whatever troubles life tries to throw your way.

At the moment, you’re draped across a couch in the central living area of the Avengers facility. The latest round of exams just ended in school, thank everything, but now you’re completely wiped out from the struggles of trying to self teach far too much content in far too short a period of time. You might spend your free time taking out aliens and other superpowered individuals, but a terrible math test can still beat you up like nothing else.

The door opens across the room, and seconds later you’re greeted with the sight of Tony Stark, hands still stained from grease as he checks in from another long session spent in the lab.

He raises an eyebrow when he sees you. “Sure you’ve got enough blankets, Y/N? I think you could still add another layer or twelve.”

You glance back towards yourself and chuckle. You’ve snatched quilts from every sofa within a three room radius and piled them up around you in a veritable fortress of warmth. “Sue me, Tony. I’m freezing all the time. Downsides of ice powers and all that.”

Tony grins. “You know, I think my grandmother does the exact same thing, she turns up the thermostat to the inferno setting and everything. Are you sure you’re cold because of your powers and not your old age catching up to you?”

You make a face at him, but you can’t even pretend to be mad for long. “Maybe it’s the stress of looking so good for my age.”

It’s a long running joke between you and the other Avengers. You’re the youngest Avenger here, even including Peter Parker, your favorite resident Spider-Man. You might only be a month or two younger than Peter, but you definitely hold it over than him every chance you get. Regardless, the other members of the team like to kid about how you’re so much older than them just to make a point. Decades you have on them, centuries, and they won’t stop extolling your extremely long lifetime. The joke has yet to get old, and so do you.

You happen to think it’s very funny, and so do the rest of the Avengers. That’s why Tony just laughs and reminds you to use your retirement fund to get some tea or hot chocolate if you’re still cold before he heads back to the lab.

You’re still grinning after he leaves. You like this life more than anything, even if it happens to come with a side of danger. This consequence makes itself apparent about half an hour later when your phone goes off, the text from Maria Hill announcing an emergency mission briefing happening as soon as you can get over.

You groan and allow yourself one last precious moment of rest before throwing off the blankets with a flourish. You’re in a good mood again by the time you make it over to the briefing room, already excited at the thought of a chance to beat up some bad guys. You might be the only one with a smile on their face, too; all of the other Avengers show signs of frustration at being dragged from their normal daily activities by the summons.

That’s just how it usually is around here, you suppose. You stay sunny whenever possible, you do your missions, you get into trouble and get out of it just as quickly. This life is a carnival ride, you just have to learn how to stop getting sick from the flashing lights and spinning.

Maria Hill keeps her briefings short and sweet. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been monitoring some ex-HYDRA arms dealers located near the city for a while now. They just popped up on the Avengers radar today, turns out they managed to get their hands on some alien tech. Protocol states that this requires an immediate mission to repossess the alien goods, especially from HYDRA agents.

Therefore, the team will be heading out in a matter of hours. A simple plan for entry and seizure is drawn up, everyone memorizes their roles, and then you’re suiting up and getting ready to go. You’ll be entering with Nat, Steve, and Clint, targeting the weapons while Thor and Tony go after the agents. 

The ex-HYDRA goons are located in a rusting facility left over from an ancient metalworking factory setup some decades ago. You enter through the back with your team, the sound of the combat team’s firefight serving as a distraction. Most of the arms dealers are headed towards the conflict, but a few agents still linger by the weapons as guards. Your subteam takes them out without too much trouble.

Steve directs everyone to start grabbing the alien tech, taking care to handle it as little as possible. When you’re about halfway through the boxes, though, a slight issue makes itself known. Turns out the HYDRA arms dealers caught onto your plan, and about half of their staff has now slipped away from the fight with Tony and Thor to get the rest of you to leave.

Their numbers are more than anyone expected, either. You turn around slowly, watching scores of enemy agents file into the room. Their weapons are raised and aimed directly at you.

Quietly, you speak to your team. They haven’t seen the arms dealers enter the room, too focused on trying to get the alien tech packaged away for easy removal. “Guys, I think we’re in trouble.”

They realize the situation at last. Nat curses under her breath. “Call for backup,” she says.

Steve shakes his head. “Won’t get here in time. Tony and Thor are still stuck with the other half of the attack.”

Clint groans, reaching for his bow. “This is going to take some time.”

“Not necessarily,” you say sweetly, “Step back, will you? I’d like some room to work.”

Clint looks at you questioningly, but does as told. You eye the advancing waves of enemy agents, then do the one thing no one ever, ever wants to see when they’re trying to kill an inhuman:  you smile.

You can see the fear flicker across the faces of the arms dealers, but by the time they realize that attacking you probably isn’t the best idea, it’s too late. You spread your hands, focusing on each and every enemy agent currently your way, then pull with your powers. When you look up, no one is trying to kill you anymore. No one is even moving, because no one is alive.

Steve’s jaw is currently on the ground as he surveys the damage. You froze the very blood in the veins of the enemy agents. Their useless hearts try to pump solid ice, but fail under pressure. The arms dealers fall in waves like a stone dropped in a pond. Soon enough, they’re all on the ground, and all within the span of about ten seconds.

Natasha nods solemnly, eyes wide. “Alright. That worked very well.”

“Scarily well,” Clint comments.

You smile. This time, it isn’t a threat. “Glad to hear it. Oh, I get to update my record in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files for the quickest time to complete a mission. That’s so great!”

Steve chuckles under his breath. “Still just as sunny as ever. Okay, you heard her. Let’s get going.”

The alien tech is boxed up soon enough, and then you’re headed back with the team, another successful mission in the books. Although the other Avengers were shocked at what you did at first, they know you, and that means they’ll trust you with their lives for far longer than just today. As you look around at your gathered friends, you know one thing for certain. This sort of life is going to be the best for as long as you’ll have it.

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