#it’s like they tried to make her look ‘ugly’ w glasses

[devnmon]

the glasses r doing something to me… oh god.

Paget Brewster in Modern Family

4x20 Flip Flop

[jahanmp4]

I love Pomme's duality so much.

She loves flowers and animals and is so happy to help decorate w/ her parents, she writes beautiful entries in her journal and is artsty. Most people who don't watch POVs with her have this image of a sweet, calm child, which she is. She has pretty cheek marks and butterfly wings, has a personal art gallery and always tries to find goodness in people.

At the same time she's a CORPSE the poor girl stays up in the late hours of the night, she's gotten better at PVP thanks to q!Etoiles' guidance, she always has the best gear and never sleeps without her scythe. She genuinely fears to lose a life because that would mean not being the obvious target anymore, therefore putting all the eggs on an equal footing when it comes to threats. She's paranoid, in a constant state of fear that never truly leaves her. She has nightmares to the point where she doesn't want to go to sleep, and would, literally, die for her siblings. Her sense of sacrifice is such an amazingly unhealthy mix with her fear of explosions and immense hatred towards ElQuackity, planning on killing him just before they ended up disappearing. She hasn't known anything but fear her entire life, and somehow her need for survival is overshadowed by her fear of losing the people she cares about.

She's also dramatic, but the same way someone passionate about their favourite topics could be. She literally dug a hole to hide in when she saw a glass block that looked so ugly to her she couldn't even look at it (I am not stretching she literally said something along the line of it being "evil" in a "Get that thing out of my face" way.) She cannot bear the feeling of holes being covered up with just 1 block it HAS to be filled completely back to its original state, she loves symmetry to a sometimes irrational amount, she makes self-deprecating jokes and makes a habit of hitting her parents repeatedly when they say something she doesn't like (ESPECIALLY Baghera and Etoiles they have a permanent Pomme-hand-shaped dent on their backs.)

And I find it kind of beautiful that no matter what, most often than not Pomme fanart will always be really sweet, because she's still inherently loving at heart, and the beret+cheek marks+butterfly wings combo is just too cute. But she's cuter in a dumpster raccoon/possum way rather than in a rabbit/puppy way. The only complaint I could have about Pomme fanart is the lack of dark circles because you know that girl needs some sleep

[thelov3lybookworm]

omg can we please get some more delulu reader x delulu azriel where the whole ic thinks they’re crazy and would absolutely not be s good pair, but they’re delusional and think they’re obsessed w eachother

” look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me it makes him look stupid ”

” babes he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you ”

” she just cannot look away can she? god I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight ”

” um hello??? she’s literally talking shut about you, I heard her a minute ago?????”

and they walk up to eachother looking like they’ll fight but then they kiss to everyones surprise and leave them all with their jaw dropped. bext morning they see az and reader having breakfast together, and they’re nice to eachother

” alright tell me again how you fell in love with me azzie”

” okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there ( no pun intended )😍😍 “

” ohhh mother above i knew it!!! for me it was when you almost choked me to death w your shadows, true love fr😍😍”

everyone at the table:😟😟😟😟😟😟

Delulu!azzie x delulu!reader (Part 2?)

Summary: The inner circle feels like... they are going insane.

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A/n: hehe i really got nothing to say but i love this looooolll 😂

alsooo... i think this could be read as a part 2 to the previous lil thing i wrote for this prompt, so I'll just link it here if any of you wanted to read it 😉

enjoy, babes 😉

•○🌑○•

Mor's pov.

Mor was seriously concerned for her friend, and it was not something that happened often.

Her friends were usually more sensible than this, and usually didn't call one of the most powerful male in the whole of prythian an ugly bastard and then always walk around nagging them.

But currently, Mor's best friend was glaring daggers at the Spymaster of the night court from across the dance floor, and Mor had never been more scared at the glare on the shadowsinger's face.

It wouldn't have mattered that much if Y/n and Azriel simply hated each other. But the fact that Y/n was so delusional over him and thought that the glares he sent her every waking moment of his day were because he was in love with her, didn't sit right with Mor.

Mor had tried to point it out multiple times to the winter court female, but the female either never paid attention, or she didn't care.

And now, as Mor and Y/n sat in the bar with drinks in their hands, the latter glaring all the way across the dance floor to the booth where the Spymaster was sat with the rest of the inner circle, Mor watched on.

A moment later, Y/n scoffed, turning to Mor.

"Look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me. It makes him look stupid."

Mor's jaw was practically on the ground, and she spluttered out the first thing that came to her mind.

"Y/n, he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you." She whisper yelled, incredulous. But Y/n had turned away already, caught again in a staring-and-glaring-holes-in-the-other-person's-skull match with Azriel.

Mor sighed, swirling her drink in her glass before taking a long sip from it.

Even if Mor pretended that the two were really in love, she simply could not imagine them being a great couple. Not saying that she didn't want the two to be happy, but watching the pair constantly be at each other's throat gave her no hope that they could ever be in a loving relationship.

If they could simply sort out their problems with each other, then maybe there was a chance. But if not, Mor was sure she'd find one of their heads lying in the hallways of their home if they ever got together.

•○●⛦●○•

Cassian's pov.

If someone told the Lord of Bloodshed that he'd be scared shitless of his own brother a few months ago, he would have laughed.

But here he was, coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump into action if his brother decided to kill the winter court female right in the middle of the dancing and drinking bodies that filled Rita's.

It was absurd. Ridiculous, really, how much hatred radiated off of Azriel as he sat there, practically breathing flames as he stared at across the dance floor.

To get a reprieve from the constant tension in his shoulders, Cassian stood, stretching before making his way towards the bar, near where Mor was sat with her friend.

"He is such a loser. I swear I've never seen such a big loser in my life. Ever." Cassian overheard Y/n say, and he had to physically stop himself from laughing.

"Y/n-"

Mor began, but Y/n beat her to it.

"He's also such a jerk. Bet he never gets any females because of that shit attitude."

Cassian decided it was enough overhearing for the day and walked back to where Azriel sat, the rest of the inner circle having slowly dispersed.

Cassian handed a glass to Azriel, who never took his eyes off the female that now stood from the stool she was sitting on with Mor, now making her way towards the dance floor.

The general watched as his brother knocked back the drink, slamming the empty glass on the table in front of him.

"She just cannot look away, can she? God, I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight."

Cassian very nearly spat out his drink, coughing loudly as he stared at the Spymaster, who glanced at him, unamused.

"Are you okay brother?" Azriel didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the dancing female, her gaze fixed on him. "Hello? Are you listening? She was literally talking shit about you, I heard her, like, a minute ago?"

Cassian was not proud enough to believe he was he smartest of people, and he would admit that he did sometimes get confused over things that needed using his brain. But he would like to blame his dumbness on his brain being closely guarded by his thick skull.

But the things he did not understand? Those things were actually supposed to make sense.

But this? Azriel's weird delusion about how the female from the winter court was obsessed with him? This was not something that was supposed to make sense, and it would leave even the smartest person in Prythian scratching their heads.

But Azriel either didn't hear Cassian, or didn't care, because in the next moment, he stood, ignoring his brother as he made his way onto the dance floor, his steps sure and cocky.

Cassian watched in growing nervousness, then horror and shock, as Azriel stalked up to Y/n, as she stared at him, her eyes sharp.

Cassian watched, as his brother took the face of the winter court female's face in his hands, and promptly slammed his lips onto hers.

Cassian's eyes widened, his jaw unhinging from his face and dropping to the ground. A quick glance to the kissing pair's right told him he was not the only one who was experiencing this onslaught of emotional cocktail.

Mor stared back at Cassian, her eyes as big as Nyx's fists, her mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

The scene was comical, though it didn't erase the shock coursing through Cassian's veins. And all that he could think about was...

What the fuck?

•○🌑○•

"Was I dreaming or did last night really happen?"

Most of the inner circle was seated around the dining table in the house of wind, holding their cup of their preferred beverages or eating their breakfast.

They all glanced up at Cassian as he spoke, but before anyone could reply, in walked Y/n and Azriel.

The sight of the two of them clinging to each other was as jarring as the night before, when the two of them had been filled with lust and clung to each other, kissing until Az winnowed the two of them away.

Well- Cassian thought, that is one way to answer my question.

The two ignored everyone else, as if not aware of their surroundings as they settled down next to each other, one of Y/n's hands clinging tightly around Azriel's bicep as he used the other to pile food onto a plate.

Azriel picked his fork, scooping up some scrambled eggs, holding it up for Y/n, who smiled and opened her mouth for him. He slipped the spoon inside, then took a bite himself.

The inner circle watched in shock, all thought eddying out of their brains as they watched the loving exchange.

"Alright tell me again how you fell in love with me Azzie." Y/n mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder after she finished chewing, hearts in her eyes as she stared at the spymaster.

Azriel seemed to think for a moment, then he smiled down at her as he held up his fork to her mouth again. "Okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there."

Y/n made a face that screamed aww. "So the first time we met?" Azriel nodded, nudging her to open her mouth. "Oh mother above, I knew it! For me it was when you almost choked me to death with your shadows." She sighed dreamily as she watched him take a bite of the food, completely oblivious to the turmoil the inner circle was going through.

Mor rushed to stand, mumbling something about having an important meeting as she hurried away. Rhys and Feyre stood too, saying they needed to check up on Nyx. And before Cassian could point out that Feyre was literally holding the babe, they walked away.

Left alone with the swooning couple, Cassian made eye contact with Nesta, who gagged silently at the love in the air, then inclined her head towards the stairs.

Cassian was all too happy to get out of there, as the moment him and his mate were out of sight, the sounds of clothes hitting the floor sounded, along with declarations of love.

And, honestly, Cassian was not one to judge people or be disgusted by other's love life, but he couldn't help but sympathise with Nesta when she gagged again.

•○🌑○•

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy�� but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[satoruzlove]

very random hcs that i have for hq characters

sakusa kiyoomi , suna rin , atsumu miya

sakusa kiyoomi loves bubble wrap. as a kid whenever his mother would open packages he’d immediately go and snatch up the wrap and pop it as he watched tv. now as an adult, when opening his own packages you see him completely by passing the product in the box at first and taking a fist of the wrap - squashing it all at once - and pausing.he’s still with the wrap balled in his fist. it’s like his brain is soaking it in. once he’s done , he will proceed with his package.

sakusa kiyoomi has a thing for long eyelashes. he himself has long, thick lashes. they’re very curly and hard not to notice. he always feels when one falls and he always. makes. a . wish. on. it. he’ll hold the small hair on his large finger, muttering under his mask and then lifting the mask to blow it. when he met you, he’s always quick to chime a ,” oh , you have a lash,” and he carefully takes it in his hand so you can blow it with a wish.

sakusa kiyoomi cries when he expresses his feelings. personally, i do this too and it comes from two things . first being that because he doesn’t do it often, it really overwhelms him when it bubbles over and second being that he doesn’t understand why he can’t articulate how he feels. it’s very frustrating for such an intellectual person to not be able to understand how he feels. so when he vents - he ponders for a bit, he may even stutter and his voice becomes thin, weak like glass. tears wash over his pretty lash line and spill when you tell him to take his time. it’s a very difficult thing to take dow his walls, and he cannot help but to be super emotional when doing so.

sakusa kiyoomi - does in fact- not smell like sanitiser ; but very strong lavender AND HEAR ME OUT N O W.

my first point of reasoning is that kiyoomi likes clean things, he likes feeling clean and smelling clean. his sister has a lavender tree at her home and he once grabbed some, the feeling of the liquid held in the leaves on his fingers. he brought it up to his nose and he was inlove. immediately got his own and got EVERYTHING lavender scented.

second point, kiyoomi is a pisces and he’s going to be inclined to feeling anxious a lot. he doesn’t like crowds. lavender is used commonly for anxiety relief and relaxation. kiyoomi tries to make it as strong as possible so that he can simply sniff his jacket if he’s feeling too overwhelmed. it’s a big comfort to him.

suna rin has an abnormally high body temperature. it’s mainly because of his high metabolism, but really he can’t explain it. he can’t wear anything warm and he always takes off his school blazer five minutes into registration. when you first felt his hand, you were severely taken aback by the feverish warmth of it. you asked if he was sick and he shook his head in confusion. you felt his neck, his forehead- same story. rin was just extremely warm. he loves putting his warm palms up your sides or on your cheeks, squishing them together and placing fat kisses on them. he’s your personal heater - and although he gets quite bothersome during summer- he will not be considerate. despite your pleas of “ rin, you’re hot-”,” oh? thanks , babe, but it’s bedtime-”,“get off me.” he will not move. he wants his cuddles.

suna rin doesn’t like babies. he likes kids, not babies. he will straight up say that a baby is ugly if provoked. even unprovoked too😭. will straight out say ‘ damn, that’s an ugly ass child’ earning glares from everyone around you. it’s funny , for the most part , how his words contradict with his actions . said ‘ugly ass child’ is in his arms a few moments later and he looks as if he was born to hold it. he peers down at the babe affectionately, cooing at it, and when you’re alone with the baby he musters ,” aren’t you the ugliest little thing?” in the sweetest voice he can. you nearly choke on your laughter, slapping his arm and telling him to quit it. still thinks the kid is ugly.

suna rin got the habit of taking pictures of everything from his mother. she loves capturing moments and even as a child she’d often take pictures of him doing mundane things such as playing with his baby sister or talking to his dad. rin grew up with the sentiment because he always wanted to remember little things for entertainment and the fondness of the memory. he takes candid pictures of you, sneezing or sleeping even, his answer to your many enquiries have the same answer : “ i never wanna forget anything that happens when i’m with you. “ for a second you think someone’s taken your actual boyfriend, but when he scoffs at your warm cheeks- calling you a simp- you’re sure he’s just the sweetest person you’ve ever met naturally .

atsumu miya is scared of butterflies. he thinks their little legs are absolutely horrific , and they’re basically flying ants. when his family visited the butterfly farm years ago, they put one on his palm and he immediately burst into tears. he shook his hand to remove it and when his mother calmed him down he explained that ,” it jus’ feels so icky, ma! they’re gross!” and he NEVER spoke of it again. whenever you see a butterfly and grab your phone for a picture, he grimaces. “ why do you like those ugly things, babe? they’re fuckin’ awful.” he mutters to you. you give him a bored look, and retort quickly ,” you mean you’re awful- and you have no balls an-“,” heYY WATCH IT!”

atsumu miya is the hairiest man you’ll ever meet. it’s just everywhere. thick, dark brown hair coats his arms, legs, chest at a young age, he has a wild happy trail and his eyebrows are extremely thick. they used to be very unkept until highschool , when he was made fun of for both his eyebrows and trail- so he shaved them. in college he became less self conscious, and you started tweezing his brows for him. he would sit you on his lap, watching you focus and yelping every few minutes. “ ah- baby, gentle with me now,” he whines softly.you mutter a small apology and rub the now hairless spot, to which he hums and holds your waist tighter.

atsumu miya is a daddy’s boy. he’s so close with his father it’s crazy. his mother tended to side with osamu, and she was the one who taught him to cook, so atsumu just leaned towards his dad. of course, the man never minded it and took in all the love his son had to give. they spoke about everything, and on his dad’s 70th birthday atsumu had gotten him a new car. there was a letter on the front seat that read ,” i could never give back what you did for me, papa, but i’ll try anyways. just know that when i’m workin’ hard , i’m tryin’ ta be like you.” they both cried that day. it was beautiful.

[ghostofskywalker]

The Best Medecine

Maria Hill/Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 6 of 31

Words: 816

Summary: When you wake up sick one morning, your wife insists on taking care of you.

Maria Hill Masterlist

The moment you opened your eyes in the morning, you knew that today was not going to be a great day. It felt like there were tiny anvils hovering over your eyelids, pulling them down with all the force in the universe. If you had to fight this hard just to keep your eyes open, it did not bode well for how the rest of your body was going to feel as you tried to wake up and start the day.

The feeling of weakness in your eyes seemed to lessen as you sat up in bed, but the sudden aching in your muscles was the next thing that revealed itself to you. It felt like you were being kept in bed by forces unseen, and you had no idea why today of all days was turning out to be so miserable. You didn’t know how anything could get worse from here.

Or at least, you didn’t until the coughing started.

Deep and guttural, it was an ugly cough, that spoke of gunk in your lungs and pain in your throat. You were just grateful that your wife was not laying in bed next to you at this point, because you would have almost certainly woken her up with that spell of disgusting noises.

You reached for a tissue right as the door opened, and Maria walked in with a glass of water in her hand. Groggily, you started to speak. “Wha-”

“Honey, I think you’re sick,” she said gently. You wanted to laugh, because you both knew that she was right, but she was still so subtle in the way she approached the topic, because both you and her had a bad habit of denying it whenever you weren’t feeling well.

But this time, there was no way to deny your illness without looking like an absolute fool, so you just nodded. “I think so too,” you managed to croak out, and she suppressed a little laugh at your voice.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep, and I’ll make you something to eat in a little while,” she suggested.

Part of you wanted to get up, to make your way across the house and start doing the things you had originally planned on doing today, but you also knew that you wouldn’t make it more than twenty feet away from the bed before you collapsed. “Okay,” was your response, and you shifted in bed slightly as Maria helped you move pillows around to make sure you were propped up. “Rest,” she said softly as she placed a kiss on your cheek and left the room again.

You wondered how the hell you had gotten so lucky as you closed your eyes again, and immediately you were pulled from the waking world and back to the hills of dreaming.

The next time you opened your eyes the sun was much higher in the sky, and bright light was coming in through the gaps in the blinds. You felt better, but still like you had been thrown down a flight of stairs and landed in a human-sized pile of jell-o. Your wheezing breaths were still punctured by the occasional coughing fit, and soon you saw the door open again and Maria step inside. “I got you some medicine,” she said, holding out a plate with some pills and a soft-looking blueberry muffin on a plate. “This should help your cough.”

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, noting that while your voice was better than it had been this morning, it still wasn’t all that great.

“I think you should take a shower, and I’ll change the sheets,” Maria said.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” you said, reaching out to take her hand. This was her time off (from had been an especially challenging set of missions), you could take care of yourself.

“I want to,” was her response. “I’m not going to let you suffer here all alone.”

You didn’t really feel up to arguing any more, so you allowed her to gently herd you towards the shower. The warm water felt wondrous against your aching body, and the steam helped you cough up some of the stuff in your lungs. By the time you were making your way back to your bedroom, you were feeling much better than before, but still very tired.

The feeling of new sheets was nothing short of fantastic, and Maria smiled as she watched you settle into bed. “Come cuddle with me,” you whined, and she didn’t even respond before she was crawling into bed herself. “Thank you for everything,” you said softly as the two of you settled against each other, and you snaked your arms around her. “I love you.”

She sighed in contentment and leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek. “I love you too.”

How the hell had you gotten so lucky?

- the end -

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[oh-no-its-bird]

Okay quick question what's the Magical girl izuna colour scheme

PLEASE ignore the demon woman thingy she's still I'm her ugly art phase

Also just curious on whatever it loos like whenever Izuna does that "cleansing the moon from the people or whatever" cause i just drew pinkish fire and I'm not sure that's right

(Nurse June thinks his colours are blue but I think she's biased because she picks blue whenever I ask her what colour I should use in my art. Plus I always invisioned a more Cardcaptor Sakura esc colour scheme)

PLEASEEE THAT LOOKS SO COOL I LOVE IT IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH RN

don't hate me but I've been meaning to change his outfit actually so this is now the official ✨️new design ✨️

Only I also couldn't decide on colors so tried out 2 sets. I like the purple bc its more "Uchihs" but I think since I'm color coding Susanoo as the purple one, I might go w the red just so Madara can be purple? But idk. Honestly either of them work, Amaterasu probably changes details of the costume on a whim just bc she also can't decide and has fun playing dress up

But also the purple makes the sharingan decoration pop more so. Mmmm I dunno this is hard

HONESTLY PINKISH FIRE IS PRETTY ON POINT. Think just the amaterasu blue fire skill thing but like. Pink/red just for aesthetic or whatever.

The sharingan on his outfit also probably changes it's pattern to match the pattern of his own sharingan, I bet it unlocks a new tomoe with him. When he's detransformed, it just looks like a lump of decorative red glass

(Also tell nurse June I said hi)

[tickle-bugs]

For the warmup prompts can you do Beetlejuice and Lydia (platonic! I do not ship them romantically in any way whatsoever) with the dialogue of “I bet I can get you to say my name.” If not, I totally understand!

So for people who haven’t seen/listened to the musical the vibe is completely different from the movie LMAO less “this is our weird uncle beetlejuice the family won’t talk to him he’s wanted by the feds and can’t come within 500 feet of the house” and more “cool but still weird cousin beetlejuice who collects strange rocks, is always in danger of being actively actively on fire, and is wayyy too into dark humor”. It’s a good show! If you like comedy musicals with a rock lean to the soundtrack, you’ll probably like it. It’s got a Little Shop of Horrors sensibility to it, I think. 

If anyone tags this as ship w/ Lydia and Beetlejuice I will crawl out of your screen like the girl from the ring and gnaw on your bones I’m so serious

AU where the plot of this show doesn’t take like. A week LMAO. Basically Lydia hasn’t said BJ’s name yet but she also hasn’t decided what to do with her dad yet. So they’re at an impasse. Lydia regularly goes to hang out in her haunted attic and lament because Delia won’t go up there, thus making it safe. Beetlejuice keeps doing Say My Name-style ad pitches to get Lydia to summon him properly but he’s not very good at it. 

EDIT: FORGOT THE BODY HORROR WARNING OOPS!! It’s very mild but just in case anyone needs it <;3

Full-Time Spectres

Lydia’s life is far from conventional, perfectly so, but she’s started to adapt to the strangeness in the walls of her house. She doesn’t have the one ghost she wants most of all, but she’s got three that do just fine for entertainment and scheming purposes. She’s gotten used to the cold spots, the occasional flicker of the lights, and Adam’s habit of walking through walls rather than doors--he figured out that he could and never wanted to stop. 

Some things she’ll never adjust to, though, like her attic being strewn with scraps of brutalized board games.

Monopoly’s been pinned to the wall with a knife, Ludo sits perfectly still on a shelf with suspicious-looking green liquid in the shot glasses, and a chess board hovers in the air, eternally aflame. It’s a massacre and she doesn’t know where half of these things came from. 

“What’s, uh…what’s happening here?” Lydia kicks the door shut behind her. The door creaks open. She kicks it closed again with a frown.

Adam looks up and squints at the door. His eyes dart around as if he can see the schematics of it and diagnose the problem from halfway across the room. Lydia allows herself a tiny smile. 

“Adam’s teaching me to play checkers.” Beetlejuice beams, which is unsettling in itself. 

“Well, I tried to reach him to play chess, then a few other things…it didn’t go well.” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose and surveys the board in front of them. He captures one of Beetlejuice’s pieces with a triumphant little ‘aha!’.

Beetlejuice takes a long, pensive look at the board. Very thin tendrils of smoke curl out of his ears as he tries to decide which piece to play. Adam, sweet Adam, goes to help him make an advantageous move, but Beetlejuice shushes him. 

“What are you doing?” Lydia sidles over to Barbara, who fumbles with an old lamp. She sets it down before she can shatter it. 

“Well, it was going to be a surprise but…” Barbara gestures excitedly to a small nook in the attic. She’s rearranged various boxes of her former belongings to build a shoddy sort of booth. A heavy, ugly floral curtain hangs precariously over the doorway. 

“It’s a dark corner!” Lydia gasps sarcastically. 

“No—well, yes, but it’s supposed to be a kind of mini dark room? I don’t know much about them but I know you’re always taking pictures.” Barbara shifts awkwardly.

Oh. Oh. 

Lydia cradles her camera in her hands, running her thumb along the outside. The pebbled texture is a kiss to her fingertips. If she concentrated hard enough, she can remember the feeling of her mom’s warm hands over her own, showing her how to hold the camera. 

“If you don’t like it—“ 

“You made this for me?” She whispers. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. 

“Still workin’ on it, but yes.” Barbara gestures lamely. 

“You…didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing but time. Might as well use it right.” Barbara shrugs. Lydia bounces on her toes.

“I’ve still, um, gotta clear out all of our junk. Adam and I don’t need it anymore, not really, and you need room to breathe. I know it’s not much, but--”

Lydia crashes into Barbara for a hug. She’s icy to the touch, but her touch is the most comforting thing Lydia can imagine. Barbara pulls her in close, cradling the back of her head with her cool hands. There is no heartbeat in her chest, but Lydia can feel that it’s not empty.  

A memory of her mother prickles at the back of her mind. She pushes it down. 

“Do you want help?” Lydia pulls away and looks towards the dark room, ignoring the twinge of grief in her gut. She can see its potential around the edges.

“It’s your surprise! You can’t help with that!” Barbara gasps, affronted. 

The curtain falls heavily from the hooks and thumps into the ground. A plume of dust kicks up and Lydia coughs. 

“Okay. Maybe you can.” Barbara scratches her head. Together, she and Lydia hoist the heavy curtain back into precarious-looking hooks embedded in the wall. As they back away from it, silently begging it to stay in place, Beetlejuice sits up ramrod straight. 

“Adam, Barbara’s throwing away your coin collection,” Beetlejuice gasps and points over Adam’s shoulder.

“What? They’re vintage!” Adam whirls around. Beetlejuice moves a bunch of pieces around, making a bunch of captures, and eats a piece for good measure. He winks at Lydia. She fondly rolls her eyes. 

“You know I would never.” Barbara says. Adam deflates. She kisses his forehead. He grumbles a little but accepts it.

When Adam turns back to the board, Lydia has the express joy of watching him go through the five stages of grief in real time. He looks from Beetlejuice to the board in sheer despair. 

“Why do you keep eating the pieces?” Adam puts his head in his hands. 

“Because, Adam dearest, it makes you mad.” Beetlejuice pats his shoulder solemnly. Lydia snorts.

“Well, I’m officially out of games.” Adam pats his thighs and stands. He ambles over to Barbara and appraises the curtain. He puts his hands on his hips and starts muttering about supports and tracks. Lydia tries to follow along but her eyes near-instantly glaze over. 

“Sooooo, Lydia.” Beetlejuice slides over to her. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“You still haven’t given me a convincing argument. Calling yourself ‘the worst of the best’ isn’t exactly a glowing review.” Lydia wrinkles her nose. 

“These two like me!” Beetlejuice points at the Maitlands. Barbara gives a teasing ‘meh’ gesture just to see him splutter in offense. She laughs softly. 

“I’ll admit, I’m coming around on him.” Adam chuckles. 

“Thank you, Adam. Mwah.” Beetlejuice blows a kiss in his direction. Adam turns a little pink and goes back to working on the curtain. Barbara whispers something in his ear that makes him turn even pinker. 

“They like anyone. I’ve met cardboard with stronger opinions than them.” Lydia scoffs, then turns. “No offense.” 

Adam and Barbara both shrug. 

“Fair point. Counteroffer: you hate your dad, I hate your dad, let’s kill him.” Beetlejuice gives his most enthusiastic jazz hands. Lydia stares at him blankly. 

“Denied.” She pushes his hands out of the way. 

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that you suck. Your fate hinges on me and you can’t even get me to say your name. You spend all your time cheating at board games because you need me more than I need you. That’s pretty lame for a big, scary demon,” Lydia says mockingly, curling her fingers into claws. When Beetlejuice gives her the finger, she gives two right back with a smirk. 

“Lydia, be nice,” Barbara chides, goosing Lydia’s side. She yelps and smacks her hand away. 

Beetlejuice gasps. Lydia slowly meets his sparkling eyes. 

“No.” Lydia points at him. Beetlejuice smiles slowly, wicked and full of mischief. 

“I’ll kill you. I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you--”

Lydia steps back, Beetlejuice steps forward, and all hell breaks loose. Lydia springs over a pile of Maitland junk and ducks under Adam’s arm. She shoves him into Beetlejuice’s path.

Beetlejuice simply picks Adam up and deposits him elsewhere like a Maitland mannequin. He squeaks and leaps out of the way of their chase.  

The two of them circle each other around an unbuilt dining room table kit, Lydia just barely keeping out of arm’s reach. She bolts past a dilapidated spin-your-own-yarn kit and dives through Barbara’s legs to hide behind her. 

Beetlejuice stops and visibly considers the consequences of doing the same. Barbara gives him a withering look. He tries to circle around her, but Lydia’s excellent at moving her around like a meat shield. Beetlejuice visibly starts scheming. 

Barbara looks at Lydia, looks back at him, and slides out of the way. 

“Barbara!” Lydia screeches in outrage but there’s not enough time to screech and run. He grabs her and pulls her into a bear hug. 

“Thank youuuu, Babs!” Beetlejuice grins at her. She shakes her head fondly and honorably discharges herself from the battlefield. 

“Hey Lydia…I bet I can get you to say my name.” He cackles evilly. Lydia hisses at him, but damn it, she’s already giggling nervously. He swoops his hands over her stomach, wiggling his fingers but not quite touching. 

“B-Beetlejuice!” She squeaks and rocks up onto her toes in lieu of running. 

“That’s one!” He singsongs, finally touching down on her stomach. She folds into his hands—unwise, really—and curses Beetlejuice to the high heavens and below. 

“Think we should help her?” Adam leans over to Barbara. They both watch Lydia worm around in Beetlejuice’s arms, not making much of an escape attempt despite the volume of her threats. 

“Nah.” Barbara moves a crate of nearly-unused embroidery hoops out of the way with tender care. The curtain collapses again. Both Maitlands sigh. 

“Beetlejuice, you fucker!” Lydia growls, but quickly loses it to laughter. He’s doing this infuriating little pinchy-thing to her sides, one that makes her leap clear off the ground each time. She tosses her head back and cackles, her whole face scrunched with the force of it. 

God, she hasn’t laughed like this since…well, it’s been a while. She’d forgotten that she could. 

“Eh, that probably counts. One more!” Beetlejuice finds a deathly spot on her lower ribs and decides not to leave it alone. 

“Beeeeeeeeeeeee--AHHH!” 

“Hm, yeah. See, now we’re gonna have to start over.” Beetlejuice tasers her sides, right at that spot, and feigns disapproval. Lydia makes a noise at a pitch audible only to dogs and demons. 

Crunch. 

Lydia’s foot connects directly with his face in a frankly-stunning high kick. He drops her roughly. Something goes flying across the room and hits the wall with a quiet thump. Barbara gasps sharply and covers her mouth in shock. 

Beetlejuice touches his nose—or rather, the space where it used to be, and a thick hush falls over the attic. Everyone’s eyes drift to the nose, now fallen among jars of the most rancid-looking kombucha on the face of the earth. It twitches plaintively. 

He laughs, loud and boisterous. His lack-of-nose whistles as he does. Adam picks up the fallen nose and gags before tossing it to Lydia and wiping his hands on his shirt. 

“Got your nose,” Lydia giggles weakly, depositing it into Beetlejuice’s hand. 

“Nice shot.” Beetlejuice chuckles, uncomfortably nasally, and shoves his nose back into place with an awful crack. He takes a long, wheezing inhale and gives her a thumbs up. 

“So…” He sidles close to her, bringing back the jazz hands. 

“No.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair.” He sighs. 

“Lydia, are you alright?” Delia’s voice curls faintly up the rickety staircase. She climbs up, but not all the way—Lydia can tell by the shuffling of her awful shoes. 

Everyone freezes.

“Lydia?” 

She opens her mouth to answer Delia and Beetlejuice squeezes her sides. She yelps and whirls around, but he doesn’t even have the decency to feign innocence. He just does it again, waiting for the precise moment she goes to speak. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m o-okay.” Lydia wrestles with Beetlejuice’s hands, her voice shaking with barely-restrained giggles. 

“Oh god, please don’t make me come up there.” Delia’s ‘whisper’ is anything but. Beetlejuice snorts. 

“I’m fine! Just, uhm, doing spring cleaning.” Lydia calls back, stomping on Beetlejuice’s foot. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Okay.” A long, heavy pause from Delia. 

“You can go now!” Lydia yells. Delia’s heels click quickly down the stairs, back towards the dreary living. 

“You’re insufferable,” Lydia hisses at Beetlejuice, punching his shoulder. He holds his hand over his heart and gives a grand, sweeping bow. When he stands up, he smacks his head against the dagger in the wall. Lydia snickers at him.

He turns around like a penguin, never one to do things normally, and makes a delighted noise at the pierced Monopoly board. He pulls the knife out of the wall and pokes his finger with it a few too many times, fascinated with the sharpness of it. 

He stretches, makes a bunch of vague measurement and aiming gestures, then lobs the knife straight upwards. It lodges into the ceiling with an enthusiastic ping! The blade warbles with the force of it.

Beetlejuice slaps the Monopoly board down on the floor and plops down in front of it. Adam bemoans the state of the attic ceiling as Barbara consoles him. 

“Wanna play?” Beetlejuice snaps his fingers and the board changes, shifting into black, whites, purples, and greens. Graveyard moss creeps along the edges of the board. Monopoly components spawn into existence on the board, appearing in puffs of fog and comically-quiet wails of the damned. 

“Sure.” Lydia sits opposite him. She pokes at some of the moss. It sprouts to meet her touch. 

“If you get stabbed, you lose?” Beetlejuice casts a cursory glance to the still-wobbling knife. The blade shifts slightly out of the ceiling. 

“Deal.” Lydia sticks her hand out to shake. Beetlejuice takes it with gusto. 

“You guys wanna play?” Lydia turns to the Maitlands. Barbara and Adam look at each other, communicating in that telepathic way of theirs. Barbara grins and leads Adam over to the board to sit. 

“I call thimble!” Adam reaches for it. Beetlejuice swats his hand. Adam reaches again. Beetlejuice swats him a little harder. 

“You can’t have the thimble. I’m the thimble.” Beetlejuice pinches it between his fingers. 

“Can I have the thimble?” Barbara leans close to Beetlejuice and looks up at him through her lashes. Lydia never would’ve guessed that a demon could blush, but sure enough, Beetlejuice’s face takes on the slightest bit of color. 

“I sense that I’m being manipulated.” He narrows his eyes. 

“Is it working?” Barbara smiles. 

“Yep.” He slaps the thimble into her hand. She passes it to Adam. He beams. Beetlejuice rolls his eyes but his gaze lingers on them for just a bit too long. 

“Well played, Babs. Well played.” Beetlejuice scoops up the racecar piece and frowns at it. Its tiny metal form melts and reconfigures into a small hearse. Satisfied, he places it right next to the cat piece—Lydia’s, of course. Barbara takes the top hat with pride. 

When Beetlejuice jumps Adam for his extra get out of jail free card—of which there are a suspicious amount in Beetlejuice’s version of the game—Lydia laughs and swipes a bit of Beetlejuice’s money. Adam’s hiccupy cackles are the backdrop for Barbara robbing the bank in broad daylight, taking as many bills from the tray as her heart desires. 

Lydia’s life is certainly very strange and painfully unusual, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. She can only hope that her mom will love being part of the attic’s menagerie of ghosts and ghouls as much as she does. 

[svturn-exe]

super important tmc hcs. ignoring the fact tht terraria and minecraft both came out in 2011

adam terraria: starts a new world every week bc it forgets what he's supposed to be doing next and it never occurs to him to look it up. bro doesn't even know the wiki Exists. never gets to hardmode bc he insists on playing master difficulty and also is bad at the game minecraft: exclusively plays creative mode in superflat worlds. makes ugly box structures out of diamond blocks and performs horrible labrat experiments on mobs in them

jonah terraria: almost exclusively plays journey mode! makes it his mission every time to 100% the research catalogue. the collection aspect of it tickles something in their brain minecraft: exclusively plays modded with like 20 different incredibly complicated tech mods tht each have a 200 page user manual . and also tinker's construct. they r a pro at it

mark terraria: gets to hardmode on expert mode, delves into the underground hallow bc he's excited to explore, gets jumpscared by a naturally spawning hallowed mimic and has a fucking heart attack minecraft: mark operates out of a dirt hut and yknow what fuck you they like it that way. brother rocking the greentop with the oak door. half the floor is gravel. no glass or trap doors for windows, just 1 block holes in the walls and one of the "windows" is blocked by a double chest. fully enchanted netherite and elytra btw

cesar has never played a video game. walks in2 marks room like are ya winnin, bro?

sarah terraria: plays w so many mods and texture packs the game is nigh unrecognizable. plays exclusively master mode and turns on every 'challenge' difficulty that comes with the mods at once bc she's seen the face of god and it was weeping minecraft: girlie is in the minigame servers. find sarah doing tnt run at 3 am she is going for it . good for her

evelin terraria: actually a pretty good builder. uses the wiki as a guide for npc happiness and builds little towns for them. beat moonlord like 2 months ago and just keeps going back to the same world to build stuff minecraft: plays adventure maps bc she thinks they're fun. evelin has played every minecraft horror adventure map that exists. i think she would love terra swoop force too dave terraria: once he gets far enough in a world to get access to wiring it's all over. spends the rest of the game trying to build machines to instant-ko bosses, with varying degrees of success. a master of the hoik minecraft: you know those videos that are like. using redstone to play minecraft in minecraft. yeah ruth terraria: plays vanilla summoner class in master mode for the worthy seed. she is god's strongest soldier and baby she's going for terraprisma. minecraft: spends the entire first night punching skeletons and creepers to death with her bare steve fists. has that Totally Legit Speedrun luck and finds everything she needs just from running around and raiding generated structures

thatcher terraria: terrible at building but god bless he's trying. favorite part of the game is old one's army, and she spends hours grinding to collect all of the sentries and the armor sets. somehow gets spawn camped by a crawdad and cries minecraft: keeps forgetting that you shouldn't make eye contact with endermen and it scares the shit out of her every time. is prone to lava-based mining incidents

jude tries to download minecraft free minecraft cracked no virus 100% safe trust me :) dot exe. is shocked when he gets a virus. how can this be

[sparkedblaze]

modern au - the facility oscar and morris were in before they were taken in by medda was terrible for countless reasons, not the least of which was because there wasn’t a single real acknowledgment of morris’ safety. he was constantly ignored by staff - who were rarely around anyway - and, as desperately as oscar tried to look after him and keep him safe just like he always has, he was a kid too and could only do so much. morris was always getting bumps and bruises from bumping into sharp furniture edges, getting hurt on knives or scissors left out, tipping over glasses or vases which were never put out of reach and then getting cut on the shards, falling over on the ugly concrete in the tiny garden, falling down the stairs.

meanwhile, the first time morris gets hurt at medda’s, she *immediately* sets about making her home even safer specifically for morris. every time he hurts himself with something new, she fixes it immediately - and, for the first time ever, oscar isn’t clumsily trying to clean up morris’ injuries on his own with whatever he can find. medda brings one of the fully stocked first aid kits, shows oscar where each one is kept, and most importantly shows and explains exactly what she’s doing as she cleans and covers morris’ wounds.

it’s information that comes in handy after they leave.

😭😭😭

YALL I WAS GONNA ADD SOME BUT I CANT

ITS TOO GOOD

I LOVE MEDDA IMMEDIATELY FIXING EVERYTHING. ONE AT A TIME.

UHHHHH

INSTEAD, AS PAYMENT, HERES AN OS PICREW

T/w scars

Mo made him the flower crown and I h/c that they get a dog so if Os ever has to go anywhere on his own Mo isn’t alone. His name. Is Doggy.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2023: #17-#16

17. UNITED KINGDOM Mae Muller - "I wrote a song" 25th place

Decade ranking: 46/116 [Above RAFAL, below We Are Domi]

Pahr Mae. All the abuse she had to sit through pre-show for not being Rina Sawayama by twitter queers in ugly mullets (please log off and touch grass.) and later by the boomer press for being a VILE, JEWISH, ANARCHO-LIBERAL ENGLAND-HATING "T-WORD" (just a reminder: Mae is not trans and transphobia hurts ALL women, don't fucking engage in it, you stupid "gender-critical" cunts) for idk... daring to say Tories suck (they do). She gave us the gift of #GAYRIGHTS (she did), and the gays rewarded her back with a paltry bottom 2 placement. She was just tryna slaaaaaaaaaay you filthy little bottoms. 😭😭😭

Like okay, the second Mae said she was on #VocalRest we knew there would be no "recovery". Her singing was never not strained (even at the pre-parties) and it wasn't going to get any better. She knew that and so should've we. Yeah, her off-kilter vocals were a big detriment to the overall performance. I wouldn't dare to claim otherwise.

However, at a certain point in the ranking I have to let go of my ~personal gripes~ and rally my angry logic for the purpose of defence and I've chosen THIS point you can't make me. Mae's vocals were blergh and that was a deal, but visiually, omg, it looked so GOOD?

THE ZENA-ESQUE BACKDROP (yes, we're gonna Like It)

THE FUN ACT WITH THE BUDDING HE/SHE/THEY DANCERS

THE SASS, THE SPUNK, THE ZEST, THE PLUCK

YOU'RE POWERFUL, YOU'RE ALL YOU NEED, WERK IT BABY, COME WITH ME!

If you have a one decently-sized negative and then a bunch of smaller positives, the net result is still a positive, surely? Well it was here and you'll have to deal.

Not to mention the UK fucking TRIED this year, okay and god there have been too many years recently where they've just been fucking phoning it in, not even trying to be good, sending reasonably talented artists like SuRie and James Newman to their doom with lame demos and visionless non-acts nobody could possibly be made to care for. "I wrote a song" was a self-written pamphlet against toxicity and in favour of mental health (Roxen could NEVER; therapy can work lest she/they first learn to LISTEN TO PEOPLE [other than *ndr*w t*te]). Depth and thematic relevance any 2010s BBC entry would murder an orphanage for.

While it did not pay out this year, and instead of like... a solidly competent entry we got a visual treat with trainwreck vocals, point still stands. The UK made an effort to prove that Ryder wasn't a one-time fluke. Kick-ass song by a kick-ass maiden was a good attempt and befitting her entry, is the proof that BBC are working on themselves, which is more than what one can say about the next country on our list:

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

16. MALTA The Busker - "Dance (Your Own Party)" 35th place

Decade ranking: 43/116 [Above Montaigne, below TBA]

As is the case with televised competitions with semifinals, some participants need to NQ and ideally those flop spots go to solulu/delulu broadcasters that have lost their touch with reality, have no idea what they're doing, are throwing away golden opportunities with zero regard and yet respond with indignation when their stupid schemes ricochet back in their faces like errant boomerangs.

So in the light of that, TVM's flop era was has been long in the works and is fully deserved. To hell with this wishy-washy, cynically corporate piece of secretive shit broadcaster. Malta have only been truly good twice recently, and even Destiny was kind of debatable (What separates a "Je Me Casse" from a "Queen Bees" other than two glasses of chardonnay?).

However, as if often the case with entries that get the overdue flop results (see also: Ela and Tell Me More), The Busker didn't particularly deserve to be the anvil of fate, not in the least be hit with such overkill: last place with 3 points, excusez-moi? No idea what The Busker did (well, what they specifically did) to be immediately branded as THE MOST ANNOYING THING OF ALL TIMES once they arrived in Liverpool. We've seen worse of the same "offenses", where WERE these people when The Roop and Mikolas Jozef were being an ABSOLUTE TERROR to us? Oh right, bookie odds made it fashionable to pretend to like them, got it.

Anyway, how else can you do an entry such as "Dance" any justice if not by going ham? This is only one of two recent examples since "Walk On Water" where Malta actually staged appropriately, playing to their song's best strengths.

🎷🎷🎷🎷🎷 I FEEL BETTER IN MY SWEATER 💃💃💃💃💃💃💃

I *liked* the presentation. It was jank and clunky and Moldovan. The three acts, the sweater change, the obnoxiously bad sax playback, the bedroom dance moves that completented the song's bedroom karaoke vibe, Dav Jr.'s excellent hairline. Works for me! They HAD A VISION to craft a story of lockdown blues and social anxiety and I won't toss it in the bin just because it's trashy and out of vogue! It's Eurovision, and trashy also-rans have been a staple since the very beginning. Embrace them!

The true reason why the Busker did this poorly was bad luck. They were on second in r/o, had no built-in vote bases (like Serbia) and directly competed with the OTT-LOUD entries from Croatia and Finland. Hurricane Käärijä landed and left only destruction in his wake. Put The Busker in Semi 2 and their total points rise to a similar level that Iru and Diljá got.

Of course, The Busker also dropped for me, but that's just the normal trajectory for gimmicky entries doing its work. When the joke is still fresh and funny, I'm into it the most, but once I've acclimatized my mind and the novelty has worn off and I'm just left with how much I like the music. As it turns out, "Dance" was fine fun semi filler and that's something I'm perfectly okay with. 😁

THE RANKING

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day One: How to Win Natasha Romanoff (With Eggnog)

(A/N) OMG! So, my silence has been for a reason. I really like the holiday season, so I’ve been writing fics! Small ones, really. Like 2 pages long, but they’re cute and I thought it would be fun to post one for every day until December 24! Upon Christmas, I’ll be posting a present :) This ‘series’ is just a buncha lil oneshots with my fav marvel ladies idk but one of them is a pre-gift! Some are smut, most aren’t, they’ll be tagged appropriately. Anyway, I love eggnog, here’s a fic about how much I love eggnog and hot women.

(A/N P2) also holy fucking shitballs yall i’m over 1000 followers! that’s nuts. thanks for gifting me with your eyes and your beautiful minds! 

Rating: G (General Audience, open for all!)

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption; Nat being a lil shit; R just wants her crush to like her; Brief mention of the death of a relative; Brief mention of criminal activity; Light Plot; Light Fluff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: You take a mission during the holidays with the one Avenger that doesn’t seem to like you very much: Natasha Romanoff. What happens next is your plan to get her to not hate you.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Natasha isn’t a holiday person. At least, not proudly. She’s had too many bad ones in her life, and while she tries to put herself in that festive mood, nothing quite suits her the way that sitting in front of a fireplace with a glass of eggnog does. This is her ideal holiday tradition, no matter how many parties the Avengers drag her to.

This year, unfortunately, she can’t even be forced into an ugly sweater party. The mission was very last-minute, and since she’s basically always on call, Natasha was one of two poor souls condemned to suffer this season. Extra unfortunately, the person accompanying her was you. 

You’re not sure what you did to Natasha to make her dislike you. You were cocky, sure, but you weren’t nearly as bad as Tony. You might not always follow her orders, but sometimes you had a golden opportunity, so why should you hesitate? You’re not even the type to worry this much about not being liked but there’s something extremely nagging about not being liked by Natasha.

She’s just so smart and cool and pretty- and, fine, maybe you’ve got a teeny tiny crush on her. How could you not? Who doesn’t?

But she, apparently, hates your guts.

You don’t celebrate the holidays as often as you used to as a kid. You just don’t have time for them, but you do try to visit your family around this time of year. You mostly accepted the mission because your grandmother passed recently and it just doesn’t feel right without her. You don’t deal well with grief, and you don’t want to be a bummer. 

So the mission was meant to be a distraction. Something to pass the time.

You’re nearly at your breaking point day four of your little stakeout. You moved into the property across from some alien posing as a human to run a rather sizeable crime ring. Smuggling, trafficking, drugs, domestic terrorism - you name it, this scumbag has done it. His house is unimposing, complete with a ditzy blonde as his ‘wife’ - no record of such marriage exists - and a white picket fence. It’s weird.

You and Natasha are also pretending to be married. Got the fat diamond rings on your fingers to prove it, too. (Tony prefers authenticity.) She’s a damn good actress, too, because the way she looks at you when you’re out and about is enough to make you forget this is all an act. (Or maybe you’re just letting your own stupid feelings get in the way of perceiving hers.)

Maybe it’s because she’s been too quiet around the house and too touchy out in public. You’re just gonna go nuts if you don’t do something nice for her, maybe get her to warm up to you a little bit. So, you ask the only person you can think of asking for advice.

“She hates surprises.” Is the first thing Clint tells you.

Bypassing this warning, you ask him what she likes to do during the holiday season.

“She likes eggnog,” he doesn’t hide his disgust in his voice. “And sitting around a fireplace.” 

Perfect.

You wait until she goes out for groceries to commence your plan. You slip out to buy eggnog as fast as you possibly can, turning on one of those cheesy fireplace footage shows on a random streaming service. And you wait. And you wait. And wait.

It’s nerve-wracking.

What if she hates it?

What if this backfires, and she ends up hating you more?

The keys in the lock make your hair stand on end. 

Natasha nudges open the door. You quickly pour a glass of eggnog over ice as she steps into the living room. She calls out your name in confusion, eyeing the fireplace on the TV as she locks the door again.

You join her with two glasses in your hands. You freeze in the doorway of the kitchen when she looks at you. “Um- it’s, uh, y’know… the season, and all.”

She stares at you in silence for far too long. You can’t read her expression, but the longer she looks at you the more heated your body feels and the less confident you become in this sudden stroke of genius. Finally, she approaches you, and you realize there’s something shining in her eyes. Was she going to cry?

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it within these walls. 

“It’s our first holiday season together as a married couple, isn’t it?” You attempt to joke as she takes one of the offered glasses.

“Shame there’s no mistletoe,” her comment stuns you into silence as she sips her eggnog with a small smile tugging at her lips.

“We could pretend?” you suggest, voice at least an octave higher than usual. 

One of Natasha’s eyebrows arches. “Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

Your blush worsens. “N-no! Don’t be ridiculous.”

Another sip, and a look of guilt crosses her face. “You really didn’t have to do all this for me. I haven’t exactly been warm and cozy with you.”

You wave your hand in the air absently. “It’s fine, Nat. Really.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not fair to you.” She turns to look over her shoulder, out the front window that faces your less-than-neighborly neighbors. When she faces you again, she sighs. “I’m not good at this whole apologizing thing.”

“So let’s skip to the kiss and make up part?” You joke, having already forgotten the mistletoe comment.

Natasha, however, has not. She smirks, suddenly seeming very predatory. Your face is feeling warm again. “So this really was all a ploy to get me to kiss you.”

“We kiss all the time! We’re married, remember?” You point to your ring finger. “Why would I-”

She cuts you off by pressing her lips to yours. By now, you’ve kissed her at least a dozen times since you started your stakeout and you’re never prepared for just how damn good she is at it. Or maybe Natasha just has that way of making your brain turn completely and utterly to mush.

When she pulls away, she clinks her glass against yours again with a wink.

“Happy holidays, (Y/L/N).”

This woman is going to be the death of you.

(Not that you’re complaining.)

~ Gen Tag List! ~

@nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @women-am-i-right​ @fanboy7794​ @simplysimping999​ 

~Natasha Tag List! ~

@blackxwidowsxwife​ @angelwolf-20258

// To be tagged, just let me know if you wanna be a general tag, tagged for a character, or tagged for a fic! //

[sotorubio]

zoe’s social media content hasn’t changed at all…

u know when i said i'd come back to it i meant that i'd write a separate, original post abt it but who knew even after being semi inactive i could still continue to count on my passive aggressive anons to give me a more efficient way to talk abt my opinions under their comments. btw this is gonna be long n it's only part one i'll add more in a sec <3

anyway. if u want me to give u the benefit of the doubt i can assume u maybe just don't remember s5/6 all that much. the thing is that s7-8 are a unit n the change i'm talking abt has been gradually happening since s7 specifically bc they already knew what s8 was gonna be like. we as the audience didn't so ofc it didn't seem as insidious back then as it does now in retrospect when we know what it was always leading to. also inb4 someone comes complaining abt how i'm just making shit up now: this isn't a new thing i literally already talked abt this during s7. zoe's oversexualization vs mailin's "purity" hasn't come out of nowhere:

now that said even IF u only remember s7 sm content, there still is like. a drastic unmissable change so idk what ur talking abt. but alright let's move on to zoe's instagram ❤️ here's her s5-6 type of content vs s7 aka what she posted before mailin's season was ever planned vs while her season was already concrete but her story wasn't the focus yet

n these are her posts just from the first week of mailin's season + the last posts of s7 after her relationship w finn was ending

i personally don't even think these individually would be bad but it's the fucking ig stories that are the last straw for me.

the nexts pics are from s5-7 n the content zoe posted during it

we have silly faces & sweet smiles w butterflies, a ton of her in bed in hoodies n her glasses, a loooooot of taste testing n so many vids of her just eating food. the closest we've got to her silly faces in s8 that have been CONSTANT in the past? the sexy teacher look i guess. seriously, not even during halloween, during the sexiest of holidays, did she pose suggestively like this

her just messing up her shirt looking like she drooled on herself n let's not forget her funny filters!

n u might think wah wah ur just cherry picking the posts!!!! i literally went through ALL of her highlights n the ganggang account n tried to screen shot every post (excluding dancing, bc we'll get to that in the next part) that could be counted as suggestive n i got like. 3

n u know what else i realized while doing that? on zoe's own instagram u can find more suggestive/"sexy" poses from kieu my than from zoe herself

now here's the content we have of her from one week during season 8, a season who's protagonist is uncomfortable w sex n is the most vocal abt women's rights n trying to emphasize women as more than sexual objects.

in all of her pics she's posing w her butt out, she's sensually touching her chest n laying on the floor winking at the camera, almost flashing under her skirt while dropping it down n one of her shaking her hair to the lyrics "sometimes all i think about is you" & "can't make you happier now". now whether or not u wanna count that as lyrical symbolism when she's posting that around the time mailin is gaining interest in her ex is up to u but worth pointing out :)

and it IS imperative to know WHEN these new types of posts are being posted. who knows maybe mailin will organize some feminist movement n zoe will post a pic w no make up to participate. maybe she'll post an ugly hangover selfies after a major party during the season. these are not the Only types of pictures/stories she'll post. but u cannot deny the intentional timing of zoe, finn's ex, suddenly acting n posting like this out of the blue at the exact same time mailin, finn's new interest, is clip after clip emphasizing how much she dislikes the idea of sex/touch & fighting against the objectificaion of women. also literally as i was typing this post out zoe posts a new pic n i was pleasantly surprised to see it's just a cute silly butterfly ring :) oh and also the last slide is her sliding her hand up her thigh w the camera angle almost showing up her skirt :)

also like i said this is long lol but yes this was only the first part <3 in the next reblog i'll talk abt dancing like i promised. u know bc zoe loves dancing! <3 unlike mailin. mailin is awkward w dancing, she just stands to the side. mailin prefers football and is sporty. mailin is one of the boys as they beg her to join their team bc she's such a talented smart athletic girlboss who uses more than her physical looks to be cool.

[kiridarling]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

[superfics-forone]

Just Friends

SUMMARY: Sam asks the group who they think are the “hottest” members of the team. You don’t make the cute for Bucky’s top five.

Bucky x TALL!Reader

W/C: 5,800

WARNINGS: angst, swearing (like two f bombs), cannon level violence, Bucky being an idiot (it’s a warning), physical insecurities, fake science

A/N: I wrote this because the top 5 situation actually happened to me IRL and when you don’t make someone you like’s list, it sucks. Also, this is in no way meant as being against people who are smaller! I am just a tall/plus size woman and sometimes that really makes you feel like you’re unattractive to people because you don’t fit the gender norm. Let me know what you think! I’m pretty new at this so I’d appreciate the feedback!

Also, HUGE shout out to @princessmisery666 for being so patient and supportive! Thank you for being my beta! Your comments were so incredibly helpful!

The best part about working with Bucky was that you got to see him everyday. The worst part was that you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t attracted to you.

You knew you were a good looking woman, people would often tell you that. It usually happened when you weren’t necessarily feeling your prettiest. Somehow that made it worse. Others would compliment you but he never would. Even when you knew you looked good- like you had put in extra effort and actually tried that day- still he would give you nothing.

You sat across from him in the common room looking at all the other Avengers wondering why he didn’t feel the same when you finally got your answer.

“Alright man,” Sam called out to the group. “Top five, let’s go.”

“Top five?” asked Clint, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Top five what?”

Everyone looked back to Sam, - “Top five on who you think is lookin’ most fine”.

“You want us to rate each other?” You asked incredulously.

“Naw, man!” Sam replied. “I want to know who you think are the top five most attractive! Male and female!”

You slunk back into the sofa, both curious and terrified of the conversation to come.

You heard huffs from the others but no one objected. Vision went first and of course he could only answer with; “I believe all of you are inherently lovely. I couldn’t possibly pick a top five of those who I find to be most attractive.” As soon as he finished and the room was no longer focused on him though he leaned over to Wanda and said something in her ear that made her blush.

You brought your cup up to your lips to hide your smile. You loved how happy they were after having been through so much heartbreak.

Sam went next, “Imma say, Wanda, Nat, Gamora’s got it goin’ on…for an alien…Hill - don’t tell her I said that- and…Y/N,” he said throwing you a wink.

You smiled but shook your head with a roll of your eyes. You knew the only reason he said your name was because you were in the room. He was trying to be kind. Men didn’t seem to be actively lining up to be with you…it might have something to do with them being intimidated by you being an Avenger but who could possibly know

“Sam you would think anything with legs that gave you the time of day was hot,” Bucky shot.

The others laughed but Sam shot back, “alright, Tin Man, who’s on your list? Okoye?”

“Yeah for one! I would be dead before I could make a move but sure! She’s dangerous and stunning!” He took a swig of bourbon as if he was done.

“Alright then who else?” Wanda leaned forward winking at you.

You shot her a warning look. You had only told her how you felt about Bucky once on a drunken night after finding out he had gone on date with another recruit. Jealousy had reared its ugly head and she could feel your angst that night. You had asked Wanda how; “A tiny little thing that would barely hold her own in the ring,” could possibly catch his eye. It was as if the only thing he saw you as was an ear to listen to his problems and a soldier he could rely on in the field. You had seen them together multiple times since then and every time it pained you more.

She was everything you weren’t. Barely five foot, two inches tall with a skinny frame to match, and a nicely formed backside. In reality you couldn’t be mad at Bucky. He deserved to be happy. He was your friend and you wanted that for him. You just wanted that particular happiness too.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky’s hands came up in surrender as he finished his drink and leaned back to think, He sat so close to you his left bicep of his folded arms brushed yours with every breath he took.“Okoye? Sure…uh… in no particular order…Wanda, Nat, Darcy, and the little woman, Kris, from reception.”

“It seems, Mr. Barnes”, said Vision, “that you prefer mates who are significantly smaller than you. I do believe that of that group, Wanda is the tallest one.”

“Which isn’t really saying much because I’m only five, six”, she complained.

“The perfect height my dear.” Wanda smiled at that and kissed Vision’s cheek .

You took another long sip of your drink as you registered what had been said. Your stomach soured as you finished the glass. Not so much from the alcohol as from the realization that the man who you had secretly been pinning over didn’t even list you as attractive enough to make his top five.

You felt like you knew why. It was just too much. You weren’t small and dainty like those on his list. You had big bones and a can do attitude. You wouldn’t take crap from people. And because you were so tall you could come off as intimidating…or so some men had told you.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You whispered to no one in particular.

But Sam really couldn’t read a room and he called you out. “No, no! Who’s on your list Y/N?”

“Oh no!” You said dryly. “I’d have to be much drunker for that conversation. For now, I'll keep my opinions to myself.”

You spotted Bucky’s surprised face before you made your way over to the bar. The conversation carried on behind you as you refilled your glass. Thoughts of Bucky’s revelation clouding your mind. You were never going to be good enough for him because you were just too big. Too tall. Too much. He liked the smallest, most petite women in the compound. Feeling your emotions swelling,you decided to grab the bottle and made your way quietly out of the room while the ruckus continued.

Once on your floor you closed the door behind you with a forceful slam, “FRIDAY!! Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone!!”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N.”

The rest of the night was spent on the floor in your sweats drinking from your bottle of whiskey and feeling sorry for yourself and all the things you couldn’t be because of biology.

You weren’t sure if it was a drunken stupor or your imagination but at one point you could have sworn you heard a knock only for it to go away just as quickly.

…

The next day you had an awful hangover and didn’t get out of bed. Bucky came to your door for your normal morning run.

“Tell him I’m not going, Friday.”

“He would like to know why, Miss.”

“Tell him it’s my time of the month.”

“Your time of the month was last week, Miss.”

“Who’s side are you on, Friday? Just tell him I’m sick.”

“Very well, Miss.”

It was silent for a few moments and you had thought that would be enough to get Bucky off your back for now.

“Mr. Barnes would like to know if you’d like to see Dr. Cho, Miss.”

“Uuuugggghhhh,” you rolled out of bed and marched over, irritated that the one person you didn’t want to see was at your door.Pulling it open with a huff you practically screamed. “What?!?”

“Woah!” Bucky jumped back startled at your disheveled appearance and puffy eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, doll. You didn’t come back last night and you never answered the door when I came to check on you.”

So there was a knock last night.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as your eyes filled with tears again, this time with shame. “I’m fine, Bucky.” You started shutting the door quickly and he stuck his hand on it preventing you from closing it again.

“Y/N…what’s…”

“Bucky, I just need some rest okay?” You cut him off, “I’m fine. I promise I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” You smiled weakly.

Bucky searched your face as if trying to find what you weren’t telling him in your eyes. But you were an Avenger and you knew how to school your features to show nothing.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, “alright, doll. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

“Yes, fine,” you said pushing him out the door. Your eyes had flooded with tears again. You didn’t look up to see Bucky’s hurt and concerned face as you closed the door again and put your back to it.

You held your breath listening for his footsteps to retreat before sinking to the floor and crying.

…

The next day was an all out avoid Bucky day. You weren’t sure you could take the questions and worried looks he was sure to give you. Instead, you decided that what you needed was time away from such temptation. And so, you went in to ask Steve for an overseas long assignment.

“You sure about this one, Y/N. It’s a 9 month solo mission. It’s going to be long and it’s going to be lonely.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I need some time to myself.”

Steve looked at you with understanding and pity. He could see how you felt about Bucky even if he couldn’t get his best friend to see it as well.

“Alright,” he said, “suit up. You leave in 2 hours.”

South Africa wasn’t the worst assignment. It wouldn’t take long for you to get the information you needed. And the separation from Bucky would be good for you.

You finished checking your last weapon and loaded it as well as a pair of throwing knives, a gift from Bucky, into your duffle before looking around your room one more time.

You headed to the door and almost made it out until the picture of you and Bucky on your dresser made you stop. Picking it up you smiled at the memory of the minor league baseball game you’d attended together. You had won tickets and no one else was available that night. When you’d offered the tickets to Bucky you couldn’t believe that he said yes! It was the true start of your friendship, talking about life and how much it had changed for him but also how little it had changed for you. He couldn’t believe it when you started singing all the words to “I’ll never smile again”.

“You think I don’t know music? I’m quite cultured, Mr. Barnes!” You had said with a laugh.

“I never said you weren’t, sweetheart!”

Coming back out of your revelry with a start you put the picture back down on the dresser and turned to the door. You were going to get over this infatuation, even if it killed you. Supposedly time heals all wounds. Well you weren’t sure if there was ever going to be enough time but you could get distance.

…

Hours later Bucky came in to tell you about the relationship problems he was having with the girl from reception. She just didn’t seem to understand him and kept picking fights. You had become his confidant and had saved his relationship once before so would most likely be able to do it again.

He was almost to your room when he noticed your door was ajar. Slowing he moved closer and pushed it in silently. The room was neat and quiet. Your bed folded nicely as though it was always that way.

Bucky knew that you never made your bed until you were right about to get in it. Or unless you were going on a trip.

Checking carefully he started to notice things missing. Your favorite slippers were gone. Your tooth brush and favorite stuffed animal turtle were also missing. All of the things that you felt you had to have with you were gone.

Then he saw the picture frame on the dresser. Picking it up he too smiled at the memory, then frowned. It was still here. You almost always took this with you. Why was it still here but everything else you held of value was gone.

“Friday, where is Y/N?”

“Miss Y/L/N has volunteered for a mission, sir.”

“Where?”

“That information is classified.”

“Okay, when will she be back?”

“That information is classified.”

“Alright, who else went on the mission,” he asked hoping whoever it was would have your back.

“All other Avengers are currently in the compound.”

“So she went by herself?” Bucky fumed.

“That information is classified.”

“Damn robots!”

Bucky stormed out and found Steve in the kitchen.

“Where did you send her, punk!

Steve didn’t even look up from his newspaper, knowing exactly what his best friend was talking about.

“She’ll be fine, Buck. She just needs some time to herself.”

“So send her to Fiji! Not a solo mission!!”

“This is her call Bucky. You’ve got to trust her.”

Bucky spun on his heel and headed to the computer lab. He knew he was being irrational but if no one else was going to look after your well-being then he was going to have to do it himself.

It took him all day but he finally unencrypted the files for your mission. You were to carry out a recon mission in Port Elizabeth on a supposed Hydra base. It was a far cry from Fiji but you wouldn’t be in immediate danger.

Still he came in everyday to check in on your reports and find out how the events in the country were progressing. He had even convinced Torres to help him set up notifications to his phone if something were to go wrong. He had, very nicely, threatened him with knives if he didn’t set up Stark’s satellite to keep an eye on you.

After three weeks he was really starting to miss your company. Every time he went out with Kris from reception he realized that she just wasn’t as interesting as you. They didn’t have the same camaraderie and chemistry as the two of you did.

So when his phone dinged at 2:30am he looked at the notification. It was a satellite image of you on your apartment porch drinking coffee. You seemed at ease and calm at your small table. Your hair down and wearing a long red dress. He went to the live feed of the satellite but when he did you weren’t there.

Bucky refreshed the page again thinking it may be just an error. But his rising heartbeat made him think differently. When the screen came back he noticed the upturned coffee mug and the newspapers on the ground.

Bucky flew from his bed and raced down the hall to the command room. Steve and Tony were already there, still in their pajamas.

“…it’s not as if she has a tracker in her, Stark!”

“Well maybe she should! Maybe we should make it a standard issue! Everyone gets a tracker! Friday! Make a note!”

“Yes sir.” replied the AI.

“Tony, we need to focus on the…”

“Where is she?!” Bucky growled.

Both men turned around in surprise. Steve recovered first, his eyes sympathetic for his friend’s worry. “We’re not sure, Buck. These images were only taken 4 hours ago.” He clicked to zoom in closer, “but we did get this.”

He zoomed all the way into the kitchen window behind where you’d sat drinking coffee, where a face reflected in the glass. Bucky looked on in rage, hands in tight fists, as the image became clearer and Zemo came into focus.

…

You awoke with a start, unaware of your surroundings. You sat on a bed in a bare room with a single one way mirror. A metal chair sat by the wall and you noticed no handle on the door. Trying to piece together what had happened you recalled your last memory.

A beautiful morning, the sun shining on the water, a freshly brewed cup of coffee. You sat in your apartment in Port Elizabeth, a pain in your neck…

“Zemo,” you whispered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said the speaker above you. “I’m sorry about the dramatics but it was necessary. You’re a very important piece of the puzzle.”

“Let me guess,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “You don’t like the way the world is being saved by the Avengers and you think you could do better.”

“Actually I want something else, мой дорогой. I need you.”

“What?” you cried befuddled. “Why on earth would you need me?”

“Do you know what TX-39 is?”

“Yes, I have an entire codex of arbitrary numbers logged away in my brain,” you retorted.

Zemo didn’t pause at your sarcasm. “TX-39 is the compound used to create nucleotides that bond onto nerve endings. By doing so they suspend brain signals stopping all neuro function and rendering the subject immoble. Something you have experienced first hand. By combining a nanotech inhibitor with this nerve ending your subject’s direct motor function is now open to...suggestions.”

You sat astounded as you registered what he had told you. You looked down at your hands but you didn’t feel different. There was no way something like this could work.

“What better way to get rid of a super soldier than to create your own?” Zemo said. You felt a slight buzz in your spine as you stood up quickly trying to resist. Running to the mirror you pulled back your arm, ready to punch your way out, but an inch from the glass your arm stopped. “Ironic that the Soldat will come to save you, only to be the one who needs to be saved.” With that you felt the electricity in your spine disappear and your body was your own again.

Frustration built within you as you sat back on the bed for a moment processing his statement. Your face became more and more incredulous until finally you burst out laughing. You continued laughing harder and harder at the absurdity of Zemo’s reasoning.

“You think I’m the one he is going to come after,” you laughed. “You think you picked the right mouse for your trap? You’re going to wait a long time if you think he’s going to come and get me.”

During your first few weeks away you had missed Bucky fiercely. Leaving him behind so abruptly had felt like severing a part of yourself, but the last few weeks had been good for you. You had forgotten what it was like to rely on yourself. You had grown into yourself again and had realized how little Bucky had actually cared for you when he never came to find you. He hadn’t so much as picked up the phone after you had left. It was as if you had never existed in the first place.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.You picked the wrong mouse, Zemo. ”

“We’ll see, дорогой,” and with a click he was gone.

Your brain shifted in and out of the conversation with Zemo. Looking down at your hands, you prayed it wasn’t true. You knew that what had happened at the window was real but you didn’t want to believe it. You had been turned into a weapon to hurt your friends. To hurt Bucky.

Crossing your arms over your chest you laid down on the bed, rolled over to face the wall, and cried.

…

Avengers Compound

“There is a five mile radius around Agent Y/L/N last known location,” said Fury. “Two man teams will sweep the area in a grid formation while the drones scan for energy signatures. Any questions?”

All those around the table sat silent, but nodded confirmation of their understanding of the objective. Fury looked around the room, “This mother fucker took one of ours and I wanna know why. Let’s get going.”

Bucky stood up from the table and made his way out of the room to the Quinjet hangar. Steve pulled on his arm before entering the plane. “I know what’s going through your mind right now Buck, but we are going to get her back”.

Bucky looked at the ground before raising his eyes to his friend. “He knew how to get to me, Steve. He always knows where to hurt me. He couldn’t use you. You’re too difficult to overpower. So he had to pick her. I just,” Bucky wasn’t sure how to finish his thought. Words never came easily to him and he wasn’t sure he could really express what he was feeling. “I just want her safe.”

After you had left Bucky felt hollow inside. He hadn’t realized how much joy you brought to his day with your smiles and jokes. Always knowing what to say, or at least, what he needed to hear. Your departure made him realize he needed you. Boarding the jet Bucky knew that no matter what happened he was going to tell you how he felt.

…

The team had been sweeping through the city for what felt like hours and there still hadn’t been any developments. Walking through another alleyway Bucky scanned the cobblestone streets. He was beginning to lose hope at ever finding you at all when he saw an uneven line in between two buildings.

Pressing his comm link he called out, “Steve, I’ve got something. I’m going to check it out.”

“Bucky, wait for backup. We’ll come to you.”

Feeling along the wall Bucky felt a draft between the cracks. Unholstering the gun at his hip he pushed against the wall feeling it give way.

“I’m going in. Follow my location.”

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called.

Bucky ignored his calls and continued down the dimly lit hall. The walls opened up to a staircase leading down to a command room. The musky scent of decay and scotch filled Bucky’s nostrils.

“Privet, Soldat,” Zemo called from the darkness.

Bucky whirled around to find nothing.

“Have you come for your little mouse?”

Still searching, Bucky said nothing as the sound came from a different corner of the room.

“Have you realized how much you miss her?”

Bucky circled again, coming up to a window.

“I wonder what it is? Is it her sweetness that draws you? Or her willingness to see you for more than the killer you are?”

Bucky frowned. Zemo was playing with him.

“Or have you realized that her fire is what draws you to her? She does have a talented tongue. I’ve seen her put it to good use,” Zemo provoked. “I have enjoyed having her in my company, but it seems you really never appreciated her spirit, did you?”

Bucky continued searching the room as Zemo continued his monologue. Coming up to the computer he saw a paused video feed. It played as soon as he stepped forward.

Bucky saw you in a room, still in your red sundress. Your hair was matted and you had the look in your eye of anger and exasperation. When you spoke, Bucky felt the wind rush out of his lungs.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.”

“A pity she never saw you care, but I suppose it’s only fair that you tell her now.”

The door beside the window clicked open with a beep. You came out of the cell with a look of wary surprise on your face. “Bucky?”

“Now is your moment, Sergeant Barnes. Why not tell her how you feel before it's too late,” called Zemo.

Bucky holstered his gun and walked toward you. “Y/N? Are you okay? Come on, let's get out of here.”

He grabbed your hand and turned to go but you were rooted to the spot. Your breathing became heavy as you felt the tingling sensation in your spine again.

“Bucky, I need you to leave,” you cried, dread dripping from your voice.

“What? No,sweetheart, come on! I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky, I…” you started.

“Last chance to declare yourself, Soldat.”

Looking up in anger, Bucky yelled. “Shut up, Zemo. I’m not performing for you-” Bucky’s head turned in surprise as you punched him across the face. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“It wasn’t me!” you cried as you dropped and kicked his legs out from under him.

Bucky rolled over quickly to pick himself up as you followed him swinging punches at his head and kicks to his stomach. Your moves were both erratic and efficient as they landed multiple times. It was all Bucky could do to block your assault and move out of the way.

“This isn’t me!” you cried again between punches. “Zemo is controlling me with nanotech!”

Bucky threw up an arm to block your punch before flipping you around by your arm and pressing you to the wall. He didn’t want to hurt you but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the most comfortable position.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Your foot kicked his leg and you pushed yourself over and around his head and away from the wall. Grabbing the knife at his hip as you slipped out of his grip, you threw it into his thigh.

Bucky looked at you in surprise and annoyance. “Sorry!” you winced. Pulling the knife from his leg he tossed it to the floor.

“Look, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, but try not to kill me, okay?”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose Bucky!” you huffed as you charged at him.

“Well I’m just trying to get you out of the problem you put yourself in!” You had grabbed another knife and went to stab him. Bucky caught the knife and twisted your hand but the knife snagged your dress and tore the skirt as you fought to wrestle it away.

Your eyes flared with anger and the next punch you threw had a little extra heft in it.

“That I put myself in? How about you, Mr. Barge-into-a-room-with-no-back-up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you liked being saved! Although you’re one to talk! You came on a mission without backup!” Bucky rolled across the computer console out of the way of your next kick, getting agitated at your attitude.

“Because I needed space!” you yelled as you followed him around the computer desk.

“Space? Space from what?” Bucky yelled back, actually throwing a punch that you easily evaded.

“You! You idiot!” it burst out of you as you came up swinging before pushing him to the ground.

Bucky looked up at you with his eyes wide. You had him straddled under your legs. Bucky brought his arms up to block your punches while he tried to talk to you.

“Why would you need space from me? I don’t understand. You left without warning, without saying goodbye! Your mission was classified so I had to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y to even find out where you were!”

Your body was starting to fatigue from the strain of the fight as you continued to land blow after blow. You were fit and well trained but because your body was not your own you were blowing through energy rapidly. Your breaths were coming in short gasps as your chest heaved at each punch. If you kept this up, you weren’t sure how much time you would have before your body gave out entirely.

“Y/N, you left a huge gap! You were my best friend and then you were gone! You wouldn’t even talk to me before you left! You didn’t tell me you were leaving. I couldn’t even call you because the mission was supposed to be classified!”

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe the hopelessness you felt, but you gave him everything you had left as you pummeled into him. Frustration over your situation, frustration at him, frustration at yourself built up inside you.

“I WILL NOT BE YOUR STAND IN! I will not be second best. I can’t look on anymore as you find someone smaller, cuter, littler to fit perfectly into your life! I deserve to be wanted! I deserve to be desired!” you screamed at the man beneath you as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Bucky finally bucked his hips and flipped you under him, pinning your hands to the ground next to your head.

“Get off of me! Let me go!” you had finally had enough. The damn had broken and your emotions and insecurities raged inside you. Your body pulled and twisted to break free from his grip.

“You do deserve to be desired,” Bucky said calmly as he caged you beneath him. “You are nobody's stand in. You’re perfect just as you are.” He wanted to say more but it was all he could do to keep you pinned under him.

The team burst down into the control room to see you openly weeping and Bucky on top of you.

“Nat, I need you to put an electric burst in my arm.” Bucky said looking up.

“I’m sorry, you what?” asked Nat.

“Just do it!” he said as you fought harder against him.

With a nod from Steve, Nat waved her baton and zapped Bucky’s arm causing both of you to scream in pain. When your body finally stopped seizing, the lack of adrenaline and the pain and fatigue caught up to you and you passed out in Bucky’s arms.

“You want to explain why I just pushed fifty thousand volts through you two?”

“Zemo infected her with some kind of nano tech. She hasn’t been in control this entire time.”

Steve scanned around the room. “Alright team, fan out. See if you can find out where Zemo went. I want teams down here with sat links up in 30 minutes.”

Bucky circled the gears around in his arm to get it up and running again before scooping you carefully off the ground.

“Buck, get her on the next jet out. Dr. Cho and Banner will be waiting for you to get back.”

…

For the second time you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and struggled to get your bearings. You felt like you’d been run over by a pick up truck and tumbled through a dryer.

Feeling slowly returned to your hands as your eyes opened and your vision cleared. You were in one of the medical rooms at the compound you realized.

“Look who decided to wake up,” said a gruff voice.

Turning your head you saw Bucky sitting in the chair beside you. He looked fresh and his eyes twinkled at you.

“Bucky,” you croaked as you tried to sit up.

“Woah there. You just relax. Your body is still trying to catch up from Zemo’s nanites.”

You slumped back down in the bed as Bucky leaned forward to take your hand.

“You had me worried there for a minute, doll. You’ve been sleeping for days. Wasn’t sure when you were going to pull through.”

“You doubt me, Barnes?”

“Not for a second, sweetheart, but I sure as hell missed you.” Bucky smiled, then looked down for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “We need to talk about why you left, Y/N.”

“No, Bucky, I...it doesn’t matter.” You say looking away. “It’s not important.”

“I don’t know, I’d say you thinking you don’t matter to me is pretty important.” You turned to look at him sharply, mouth open in a small gasp. “And I’d also say that you thinking I don’t find you desirable is pretty important too.”

You sat in shock as he spoke, not wanting to break the way you had during your fight.

“Y/N, you are perfect. You knew me before I even knew myself. You light up the whole room just by being in it. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are strong, independent, kind, and gentle. You’re like a tall Asgardian goddess. Every inch of you is beautiful. I thought back to the last time we talked...before you left, and I realized why you did. I know why you thought I wasn’t attracted to you. That night, Sam’s list,” he paused as if pained at the memory, “I didn’t add you because...well, because I was so confused at how I was feeling. You were my friend. I didn’t realize till it was too late that I was already falling in love with you. And I most definitely didn’t want to give Sam anymore ammunition.”

You looked up at him sharply when he dropped the L word.

Bucky stood to reposition himself on the edge of your bed. Taking your face in his hands he leans forward until your foreheads barely touch. “I didn’t want to ruin things with you. You were my friend. You were perfect and I thought you deserved better so I ran to find something that was everything you weren’t. You are my perfect fit. You are just right. You are the only person I want. Please tell me you’re mine. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”

You brought your hand up to rest over his as you let his words wash over you.

He wanted you. He thought you were beautiful. All of you. All of the parts people had told you were too much: your height, your attitude, your independence - he wanted it all.

You did something that you wanted to do for months, you brought your lips up to his softly and gave him a chaste kiss. “I was always yours Bucky,” You pulled his hands down and pushed him away to look into his eyes, “but I won’t be taken for granted anymore. I shouldn’t have to leave for you to want me. I shouldn’t have to be gone for you to realize what you had. I left for a reason. It was to find peace with myself. I realized that I didn’t need your approval. I didn’t need your desire to be whole. I won’t settle for someone who can’t see what’s right in front of them. I know my worth.”

Bucky looked at you sorrowfully as he held onto your fingers, memorizing their shape. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I know, but it happened. I don’t need you to be happy, Bucky...” Bucky hung his head in dejection. “...But I do want you.”

Bucky looked up at you sharply to find your eyes full of love and warmth. You wanted him. Even after all that happened - how he forced you away, how he made you feel like you weren’t good enough, you were still willing to forgive him. You wanted him even with all his faults.

You brought him closer for another kiss and savored the way his lips fell across yours. Breaking away to look up at him you said what you had been holding in for months, “And I love you too.”

Tags: @princessmisery666 @dreamwritesimagines

[clownspiral]

EVEN MORE michael headcanons!

- michael (all forms) likes animals

- michael (all forms) is spooked by thunder 

- the “real” michael has brown eyes but the distortion's are blue

- michael distortion's "human" form does not quite look like michael shelley, more like someone who could be shelley's cousin 

- michael shelley favors sweet things

- michael shelley is a big fan of spiders! he has a couple of pet tarantulas named tom & jerry 

- michael shelley likes cartoons 

- michael shelley unironically enjoys wearing scratchy ugly christmas sweaters 

- michael shelley startles easily 

- michael shelley is afraid of the dark 

- michael shelley views gertrude in a motherly light (i think that he would lowkey be jealous of gerry’s closeness with her too, as it’s something he never really manages to achieve despite being a Good assistant) 

- michael shelley knows spanish, french, sign language, & a few others too! he studied language in school 

- michael shelley likes spending his free-time in cafes 

- michael shelley’s never had that many friends & struggles to really fit in. ryan was kind of his best shot in the field of friendship & he was very much devastated when that came to an end 

- michael shelley always dedicates hours of his time to searching for other assistants whenever they would go missing (putting up missing persons posters around town, searching on-foot, filing repeated missing persons reports, etc). he never stops searching 

- michael distortion always has candy in its pockets (it doesn't eat it, it just has it! sometimes it gives some to humans)

- michael distortion absolutely LOVES halloween

- michael distortion carries around michael shelley's glasses but doesn't need to wear them anymore. they're more of a comfort item

- michael distortion can fit itself thru very thin spaces (like cracks in the walls)

- michael distortion blasts the nyan cat song in its hallways at random, even if there is a wanderer inside

- michael distortion interacts w/ extremely dangerous animals (bears, lions, etc) like they're pets

- michael distortion hums & sings lullabies to its favorite humans

- michael distortion memorizes its friends’ favorite things & brings those things to them as gifts (it always makes sure to leave a cup of martin’s favorite tea on his desk for him whenever it visits the archives!) 

- michael distortion types with a typing quirk it made up itself 

 - michael distortion can mimic anyone's handwriting 

- michael distortion mirrors other people’s mannerisms when it’s playing human 

- michael distortion doesn't blink (unless it actively chooses to) 

- michael distortion is exceptionally good at puzzles 

- michael distortion is a big fan of dollhouses! gabriel sculpts them as gifts for it (ignoring the timeline today...) 

- michael distortion lets gabriel have free reign of the place since he knows the way around on his own & michael trusts him. sometimes he’ll pop out and surprise michael 

- michael distortion attends gabriel’s sculpting classes in its human form & gets a kick out of his spiral shenanigans 

- michael distortion likes to steal Really expensive/precious items. not for money of course, just to piss people off lol 

- michael distortion is banned from a lot of casinos for cheating 

- michael distortion can speak without opening its mouth 

 - michael distortion can plant thoughts inside people's heads when they're in the hallways 

- michael distortion plays hide-and-seek in its hallways with its friends 

- michael distortion always tries to “tone it down” inside the corridor when its human friends are passing through 

- michael distortion has an on-hand closet in its hallways where it keeps its clothes (which it creates itself) 

- michael distortion is excellent at miming & often pretends to sit/lay down on nothing 

- michael distortion isn’t a huge fan of the word “magic” & feels that it doesn’t properly describe what it does 

 - the lights inside michael distortion's hallways flicker & burst when it’s angry or otherwise very emotional, the mirrors crack or shatter & the whole thing shakes. it doesn't have much control over this 

- post-spiral michael & post-spiral helen can fuse and unfuse with each other whenever they want. often it will take a little while for the features of the other to fully fade after spending some time fused together (stuff like blonde streaks in helen's hair, or brown blotches on michael's face, etc.) 

- post-spiral michael feels that post-spiral helen is the only one who truly understands him (especially at first, when she is basically his only friend) 

- post-spiral michael can see some of his old self in martin & is rude to him for some time, half out of insecurity and half out of envy that he got the “nice archivist” (before they start to actually Talk & realize they relate to each other's feelings of loneliness) 

- elias orders post-spiral michael to cover gertrude’s statements as frequently as possible because he Knows how much it upsets him 

- post-spiral michael quickly joins melanie in trying to kill elias once he's working for the archives again (they think they get pretty close to succeeding! they do not. LOL) 

- post-spiral michael has memory issues 

- post-spiral michael has a habit of walking around in circles 

- post-spiral michael experiences random nosebleeds 

- post-spiral michael has the same face as michael shelley but does not Look the same. he spends some time hating the way he looks after his disconnect from the spiral 

- post-spiral michael lies out of habit but usually corrects himself with the truth afterwards 

- post-spiral michael Still really likes spiders & manages to re-spark martin’s love for them once they’re closer friends