#it's a different kind of reunion than what i normally do

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[champagnefountains]

Secret(s) — K. SATO

Prompt: Kenji finally decides to come clean with his feelings and (sort of) confesses to you...except, it doesn't go the way he planned.

Word Count: 2.9k+ words [Damn, I lowkey popped off on this one...] Pairing: Kenji Sato [Ultra-Man: Rising] x Fem! Reader Genre/s: A tiny bit of angst with fluff. Misunderstandings. Mutual pining. Warnings: Swearing. Maybe OOC Kenji (?), not sure tbh...also, I sort of change perspectives weirdly in this one but I tried to make it work the best I can ;-; Plus, I feel like the pacing's weird ;-;

KENJI SATO HAD TWO BIG SECRETS. Number one; he was none other than the Ultra-Man, begrudgingly taking over the momentous mantle after his father was injured. Unlike his booming baseball career, the whole 'superhero' thing was honestly a humbling experience, as Kenji realised the numerous beatings and immediate danger that comes with the spotlight. Though, after what was the unique experience of baby-sitting a kaiju and finally mending his relationship with his father, did Kenji come to terms with and welcome this responsibility. Gladly, Kenji finally found that much needed balance in his life that was necessary and soon, his life didn't seem as bad as it was before. It wasn't lonely anymore either, he thinks.

And number two; he has a massive crush on you. The both of you knew each other since you were little kids, growing up and going to school together like true best-friends did. Initially glued to the hip, you were then forced apart when he had to abruptly move to America with his mother. The transition was difficult to say the least, as little Kenji was thrown into what seemed like a whole new world. Other kids would talk constantly about the way he looked and acted behind his back—about how different he was, and whilst Kenji eventually grew out of it, he couldn't help but miss home. You, included.

When Kenji returned to Japan after many, many years, his feelings for you resurfaced when you surprised him during one of his baseball games. Amongst the crowd, you had been sitting by the front row when Kenji suddenly locked eyes with you as he entered the batting field. He had to do a double-take because God, the years treated you so damn well (And you were even wearing his jersey. His jersey). Whilst he wanted nothing more than to run to and scoop you into his arms, Kenji had a game to play. He had a strong urge to show you his best performance and damn it, did he deliver. He was the Ken Sato, after all. He never disappoints.

The both of you had your heartfelt reunion after the game as he held and spun you in his embrace, in all his sweaty glory (it was honestly a bit gross, but you let it slide this once for the sake of celebration). Excited, you both decided to catch up at Tonkotsu Tonki after he washed up. And to his relief, it was like you never changed. You were still the amazing, humble and kind you — and even though he thought you of beautiful then, you were practically glowing now.

Despite the piling stress he was enduring then — with having to juggle between being Ultra-Man, baby-sitting Emi and some career troubles — your presence alone was like a breath of fresh air. Whenever he was with you, whether it be on the phone or in person, he wasn't the famous celebrity, Ken Sato, or the beloved Japanese super-hero, Ultra-Man. He was just Kenji. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

So with that all being said, with months-full of excruciating pining, Kenji finally made the big decision to confess to you. Today. He invited you out to Tonkotsu Tonki for dinner one spontaneous night, booking a private space away from watchful eyes and any possible distractions.

"So, [Y/n]...I have something to tell you," he suddenly brings up after you finished your meals. His hands start to feel clammy as you avert your attention from your phone, staring up at him with curious eyes. Kenji was normally confident with most things, but vulnerability wasn't exactly his strong suit. He was usually flirtatious and a tease in nature, always flashing a dashing smile and blowing kisses towards the camera and his fans. But today was different. Heck, he couldn't even look at you right now without his head turning into complete mush.

On the other hand, the tone of his voice surprises you. It was noticeably a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation you had just minutes prior. It must've been important, you think to yourself. And it made you nervous. "Oh," you lamely say, blinking at him, "uh, sure. Shoot." You clasp your hands together to keep them from fiddling too much, your nerves tingling at your fingertips. The thing is, you had an inkling of an idea as to what he was going to say, which was something you've been itching to hear for the past month. '...Was he actually going to follow through?' You think in quiet anticipation.

"Right. So, um..." Kenji throws some gestures in the air in attempt to gauge the right words, "...well, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. It might be a bit...surprising–heavy, even. And I'm worried that it might change a lot of things between us–which I really hoped it wouldn't, but I guess it's inevitable."

He keeps an attentive gaze on you, studying how your features slowly became more tense. Funnily and strangely enough, he thought you looked a bit constipated and perhaps in another circumstance, he would've laughed at you. Though, he knew he wasn't doing any better himself – the restaurant suddenly felt like a sauna and his heart was practically pounding out of his chest as if he were in a game.

Kenji unknowingly continues to babble on. "I-I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't want to scare you off. But now, since I've come back from America–and am planning on staying here for good– and-and we've been given a chance to reconnect these past couple months...I think it's a good time to finally come clean and tell you the truth—"

"I already know," you suddenly intervene, surprising Kenji and even yourself. You mentally reprimand yourself for abruptly inserting yourself in the midst of his dialogue, cursing your lack of patience.

"You...you already know?" He asks sheepishly, clearly taken aback, "what–what do you mean you already know? Like, was I being too obvious or something?" He couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escapes his lips. He felt like he was going to implode at any minute as the embarrassment rapidly crept up his neck, dusting his cheeks.

You wince a little. "W-Well, no. But I guess I already had my suspicions. I noticed that you've been acting kinda weird recently and I sort of just...y'know, connected the dots," you shrugged, looking apologetic. He honestly didn't know how to feel about that.

"Oh...right. I forget how perceptive you can be sometimes. It's kinda scary," he attempts to flash you a smirk but it comes off as an awkward smile instead, as he raises a hand to rub his nape. You notice this and try to offer some consolation, reaching out to grab his hand. The action alone causes butterflies to flutter erratically in Kenji's stomach and for a moment, he feels hopeful.

"Hey, for what it's worth I'm actually glad that you told me, Ken. It must've been hard keeping it to yourself," you say warmly. Kenji scoffs in response – that was an understatement. "Oh, God. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get this off of my chest," he huffs incredulously, unconsciously melting into your touch.

There was a brief second of pause and soon, Kenji couldn't help but feel as though there was something...off about this whole exchange, especially with how casual you were being at the moment. After all, Kenji literally just confessed (well, kind of) and you just sat there, smiling at him without giving him a definitive answer. Was...he forgetting something? Was he even doing this right?

"Y'know, you seem a bit...nonchalant about all this," he points out, "because if I'm being completely honest with you, I feel like I'm about to pass out." Brows furrowed, you straighten up in your seat. "Wait, Ken, I didn't mean to make it seem like I don't care or anything," you attempt to affirm with the wave of your hands, "i-it's just...slowly sinking in right now. Even though I told you I knew, hearing it from you straight is still overwhelming."

Overwhelming? At that, Kenji frowns. "Well...I did warn you, didn't I?" He says disheartened, letting out a deep sigh whilst running a hand through his hair. "Look, [Y/n]. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, nor do I want to pressure you for an answer right now. I just thought I'd tell you–"

"Woah, woah. Wait a minute. Pressure me?" You question with raised brows, now acutely confused, "pressure me into what?" Kenji rapidly blinks and tilts his head to one side, almost gaping at you, "Uhm, pressure you into reciprocating my feelings?" Crickets. Literal crickets. It was only after a few passing seconds that the both of you realise that you were talking about very, very different things.

"Y-You have feelings for me?" You gawk as you point to yourself, a bright blush now evident across your cheeks. Kenji wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air. "I–Yes! Yes, I do–I thought I made that super clear?!" He panics, balling his fists, "what the hell were you talking about then?!"

Ah, shit. This was awkward, but there's no point in turning back now, you think to yourself, grimacing. You look around the both of you in caution and thankfully, the cook behind the counter was nowhere in sight, presumably having gone back of the kitchen. You leaned close towards Kenji. "I was talking about you being Ultra-Man!" You harshly whispered between your cupped hands, and it causes Kenji to bang his knee against the countertop, eliciting a loud thud.

You gasp. "Shit, Ken, are you okay—" "Fuck-What the actual fuck?!" He whisper-shouts, his eyes growing as wide as saucers as he aggressively rubs his knee. "how-how did you know about that?!" Maybe Kenji should've initially tried to deny the accusation, but his better judgement was severely trampled on, alongside his ego, by his failed attempt of a confession.

Now it was your turn to fumble. "W-Well, first of all, every time you would abruptly leave when we hang out, Ultra-Man would just appear out of nowhere and it would always be when there's a kaiju in the city! Like, come on, the timing was always coincidentally impeccable!" You explain, your arms messily flailing in the air, "And don't even get me started on the lame-ass excuses you make! What? You needed to water your plants? You couldn't even conjure a single sprout, let alone a pot plant even if you tried—"

"I–Okay, first of all, that is so not true–"

You raise a digit, causing him to halt mid-sentence, "And not only that, but maybe you should–I don't know, work on being more discreet with your identity because I literally saw you transform near a freaking construction site!"

Kenji's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "Shit, you saw me? When did you–"

"Over a month ago, with that pink dragon-looking kaiju." You were referring to Emi. At that, Kenji squints his eyes at you, "You knew for a whole month and didn't tell me!?"

"Shh, lower your voice, Ken! Someone's gonna hear us!" You hush, "And I was planning on telling you at some point! Believe me, but I-I just didn't know how to bring it up! It's not exactly the smoothest conversation starter, y'know?" You look at him guiltily, your voice growing quiet, "I was kinda hoping that you'd tell me over time...when you were ready."

Kenji was now sporting a migraine, his mind trying to wrap around all the information you've just spewed at him. "You...you didn't tell anyone else about this, right?" He then asks anxiously. You were quick to shake your head, "No, of course not, and I wasn't planning to. I know how dangerous that information would be if it landed in the wrong hands—"

"And you do realise that you knowing all this would put you into danger, right?" Kenji says seriously. His own comment causes him to slump over at the counter, sighing heavily as he holds his head in his hands, "...it's why I never wanted you to know in the first place."

A small pang of hurt hits you as he admits this, but you decide to let it slide, knowing where Kenji was coming from. "Hey, come on, I'm stronger than I look, Ken. At least give me some credit over here," you attempt to liven up the mood, nudging him with your elbow. "Apart from kaiju, there are some really dangerous people out there, [Y/n]. You and I don't know what they're capable of," he mumbles into his arms, his gaze remaining on the table. Having you roped into his Ultra-Man business opened a lot of opportunities for danger to strike at any angle. Kenji wouldn't forgive himself if something were to happen to you, knowing that it could've been avoided in the first place. Heck, look what happened with the KDF.

Your eyes soften at his concern, pressing your lips into a thin line as you let out a small huff. "Look, we'll figure something out. But in the meantime, it'll be okay. I'll be fine, Ken."

"But—ow!" Kenji winces as you flick him on the forehead. You click your tongue in mild annoyance, speaking once more to reiterate as he rubs the reddened spot on his head, "I said, I'll be fine. So, enough with the brooding, Ken. What's done is done, okay? Nothing's going to chance the fact that I already know, and there's no point in entertaining the 'what if's." You then cross your arms against your chest, before softly muttering under your breath, "...and plus, you definitely gotta work on that transforming gimic of yours. You're gonna give yourself away with that clumsy technique."

Kenji initially gave you an unimpressed look, but he couldn't help the small grin that grew on his face as he spotted the mischievous glint in your eyes. You were definitely poking fun at him now. He lets out an audible scoff in response. "Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try. I bet if you were in my place, your identity would already be headlining all the news outlets within minutes!" You roll your eyes at this but you end up joining in on his laughter, chuckling alongside him.

Soon after, there was a brief and quiet moment of contemplation, and you found yourself staring at Kenji's profile. His confession wasn't left forgotten as your mind slowly picked up the pieces from earlier and soon, you found yourself growing increasingly flustered at the memory. The thing is, you did in fact reciprocate his feelings. With his success, you didn't think he'd even so much as spare a glance in your direction, expecting him to settle for someone of his calibre. You always thought that he was way beyond your league, so of course, you had your insecurities. But now, even if it was only for a brief moment, they all seemed to have dissipated and was now replaced by a warm, fuzzy sensation.

"Hey...so, uhm...about your confession," you quietly muster, unable to look at him straight in the eye, "...I guess I should give you my answer, huh?" Kenji's posture straightens in response as an uneasy expression takes over his features, having been reminded of his humiliation, "[Y/n], wait. Like I said, you don't have to say anything right now if you don't want to—" You didn't really comprehend what he was saying at that point, distracted by the loud thumping of your heart against your ears.

You bite your lip nervously, adjusting yourself in your seat to face him properly as Kenji continues to waffle on about your regard. Before your nerves could've forced you to back down, you were quick to dip forward and place a small peck against his cheek, just at the corner of his lips — you also made sure to have it linger a bit to send your message across better. Kenji stiffens as a result, shutting him up completely as a dumb-struck look strikes his face. "I like you too, Ken..." you say when you pull away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It takes a few moments for Kenji to fully comprehend what just happened, before a shy, boyish giggle escapes his lips. "Well...I did not expect this to go the way it did," he airly says in a mixture of shock and amusement. You smile widely at him, finding his expression very endearing. "Oh, yeah? Then what did you have planned for me then, hot-shot?" You tease lightly with newfound confidence, leaning against the counter as you rest your chin on your hands. Kenji smirks. "Well, I was planning on serenading you and sweeping you off of your feet, and then carrying you off into the sunset," he jokes lowly, mirroring you. At this point, your faces were just centimetres away, and Kenji could practically feel the warmth radiating off of you. His eyes then dart towards your lips, thinking about how plush and inviting they looked, before looking back up towards your face. You also found yourself doing the same.

It was magnetising, the way you both naturally closed the gap between yourselves. His lips perfectly moulded itself with yours as his hands found its way to your cheeks, pulling you closer towards him. Your own fingers crept its way up the base of his neck, interlacing them as you also tugged him into you.

Ans so, after this eventful aftermath, and at the end of the day, Kenji (begrudgingly) had no more secrets to hide from you.

A/N: YALL...the absolute chokehold this man has on me is INSANE...but otherwise, thank you for reading! As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated!!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

When König Freaks Out

I think that sometimes, people don't really know how to write König getting mad. I think a lot of people assume that because he's a soldier, he loses his shit all the time. Either that, or they assume he's nervous and scared. He's not either. He's a colonel (or, was), he is far too self disciplined to lose himself like that. However, König isn't always able to control himself. Under special circumstances, König loses his shit.

TWs: König yelling, teasing, childhood photos being used to embarrass König

Wordcount: 1.2k

Art from This Post

König is a very, very stable person. He almost never lets his true emotions show. It's extremely rare. Sure he has his sadistic belly laughs, but other than that, König doesn't express himself fully. He just doesn't.

König doesn't cry. He doesn't yell when he's around civvies. He doesn't even swear much when in casual conversation. He may seem relaxed and calm, but if you pay attention, he's extremely careful with what he says and how he says it. Part of it is social anxiety; he's extremely aware of how he's being perceived and takes care to curtail that image to his need. He needed to be careful to rise the ranks as quickly as he did. He's not colonel for nothing.

High ranking military personnel are not like your average soldiers, especially among special ops. Lower soldiers might be careless and rough and hardened, but to be a colonel you need to be the perfect soldier. You need to drink, but not too much. You need to be a gentleman, but you need to be dirty. You need to be kind in public, cruel on the field. It's a position of contradictions. Not many civvies understand how hard these people have their entire identities on lockdown. They often compartmentalize their lives to be able to function in different settings. They have to be, at the very least a little bit, sociopathic to succeed. Again, they're not inherently evil, I'm not saying König is evil. I am saying that if you pay attention to him in a civvie situation though, you'll notice that he is an unflappable gentleman. You'd never know he was out at the bar until 3am with his drinking buddies the night before and nursing a wicked hangover while he's sipping coffee at lunch with you.

Why am I being so careful to outline how calm and steady König is? It's because when he freaks out it's usually insanely funny, or terrifying. Sometimes both.

Now, I've told you all before in this post that König's instinctual reaction to being startled is to fight. He will punch first and ask questions second. But, sometimes, König doesn't get scared.

He gets mad.

König is normally hard to upset, but family reunions bring something special out of König. Something dark, something hidden, something murderous. It's not battlefield rage, it's worse. It's the hatred and fury of being the youngest brother in the family, and it all comes out when he brings you to a reunion and they bring out the baby photos.

"Nein, nein, nein," König will chant as he rips the photo album out of his sister's hands, "this is going back on the shelf."

You're already cackling because it's far too late to go back.

"But you looked so cute in the tub!" Lisa's grinning from ear to ear as her little brother loses his shit

"Why do we even have those pictures?" König huffs as he slumps back in his chair, "we don't need them. They can be burnt."

"You know, you grew a better beard as a kid than you do now," Friedrich mutters as he sips his beer.

"I grow a perfectly fine beard!" König snaps.

"You call that shit-stain on your face facial hair?" Stephen looks down his nose at the youngest Leichenberg.

"I can't help it!" König grumbles, "I try to shave but then it all grows back."

"Yeah," Friedrich rolls his eyes, "that's what happens, Kilgore. It's called biology."

"No!" König huffs, "it grows fast! Too fast! By the time I go to bed it's already making my face itch!"

"So you keep that on your face?" Lisa points and laughs.

"It's trimmed," König grumbles and rubs his chin before turning to you, "it looks nice. You think it looks nice, right?"

You look at his dark stubble, a stark contrast to his wheat blond hair. In truth, he looks rather handsome with the dark shadow on his jaw. He does his best to keep it nice and trimmed (always in regulation), but since you arrived in Austria five days ago, the stubble has grown into an unruly thing on his face.

"You haven't trimmed in a bit," you admit.

"See! Even your wife thinks it looks like a rat's nest," Klara snorts.

"I wouldn't go that far-"

"I look fine!" König's voice raises up a notch with indignation.

"Mama," Friedrich ducks around the door to the kitchen, "come tell Kilgore he needs to shave."

The little woman pops out of the kitchen to glare at her son. She looks him up and down and scoffs.

"You call yourself a colonel? Tch, you look like a mangy dog."

She ducks back around the corner to tend to the oven.

"I DO NOT LOOK LIKE A DOG!"

Everyone (except you) laughs as König's face turns a bright violent red as he squawks furiously. He huffs and puffs, just on the brink of a meltdown as his family taunts him further.

"And he looked so good with a full bubble beard!" Klara laughs.

"Oh but you looked better," Friedreich snaps another album off the shelf and flicks through the photos, but stops on another page, "oh wait, we'll look at that later. Look at this picture of Kilgore on his first birthday!"

Even you can't help but laugh as Friedrich brandishes the offending photo.

There, bordered in paper butterflies and tulips, is König sitting in a puddle of mud, gleefully shovelling a handful of the muck into his mouth. I the background, a young Friedrich has Stephen in a headlock while Lisa, the only presentable sibling, is eating a slice of König's cake.

"Mama worked for days on that cake, but Kilgore only wanted to eat the mud," Stephen explained as König bellowed slurs at his eldest brother.

Lisa was beside herself with laughter, nearly keeling over out of the chair as Klara pointed out how, in this photo as well, König was completely nude. Apparently, getting young König to wear clothes was quite the task.

"WE DO NOT NEED MORE PICTURES," König roared as Lisa pulled out another album.

König looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel at this rate. The only time you ever saw König this worked up was when he was dealing with subordinates. Never before had you seen König lose his temper quite like this. A part of you was horrified, another part amazed by how easily his siblings pressed all the right buttons to make him tick.

"Look how stoic our little soldier boy is!" Stephen remarked as König smacked his meaty fist against his thigh with a thick thud.

"I. AM. A. COLONEL!" König howled.

He was about to carry on before all the siblings went silent. Even König stilled, his mouth clamping shut with a click as he looked behind you. You turned to look at what stopped them to find the elder Fritz Leichenberg holding up a hand.

He uncrossed his long, long legs and adjusted his half-moon glasses on his hooked nose. Soft, watery blue eyes looked down at his youngest son. He gently pulled his tobacco pipe from beneath his salt and pepper moustache and rang a long, veiny hand through his bushy beard lightly. He blinked once, then said, "Kilgore. Go upstairs and shave. You look atrocious. I can't send out Christmas cards pictures when you look like this."

The room echoes with laughter as König slowly pulls himself to his feet and trudges up the creaking stairs, off to shave the unruly mess off his face.

Regular Fanfics

[kryannoy]

Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?

genre: sfw, headcanons + fic

characters: yandere!andrew graves x reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive andrew

a/n: i don't normally write yandere characters so this was a bit of a challenge. hope this suits your request and enjoyed reading!

He's so obsessed with you but he's subtle with it—more like whatever stupid thing he does, he'll make sure you don't see it.

When he loves you, he'll make sure to keep you happy just so you will always come to him whenever something happens. He'll open a bottle cap for you without being told, he'll wipe your mouth with his fingers if it's messy—totally not putting them in his mouth afterwards. He'll open the door for you, let you cry on his shoulder, gives you hugs when you need it. Every subtle thing to manipulate you into coming back to him when you need support.

If someone talks to you, he'll be right behind you with arms wrapped around your waist while glaring daggers at the other person.

"No, no. Continue. Don't mind me, pretend that I don't exist."

To you, his tone sounds normal but to the poor guy, it's like a cleaver skinning them alive.

If someone even looks at you without you knowing, it's gonna be hell for them. He somehow won't be afraid to kidnap that person, tie them up and threaten them with Andrew's favorite cleaver until the person is diagnosed with PTSD.

He will shamelessly go back to you with a smile on his handsome face as if nothing happened.

Andrew would kill anyone for you but if you tell him not to, he won't.

Although, he knows you would be scared if you saw him murdering people, he won't do it anyways. The last thing he wants is you running away from him.

You have no idea why people start to turn their backs on you and you would think that you've done something wrong. So, you ask Andrew for advice or if he knows anything, exactly what he planned for.

And he would smile innocently from his success and spread out his arms. You would dive into his comfy sweater without knowing the hands that are holding you are the hands that have done so many questionable and criminal acts.

"C'mere you. Aw, you poor thing! I'm sure no one hates you. Who would? They're probably out of social energy from a rough day or something. Don't you worry!"

He'll kiss your forehead, then your nose, and lastly, your lips. You would smile and he would smile into the kiss while thinking how naive you are.

He admits sometimes that he feels guilty for deceiving you but what can he do? How could he come up to you and admit to all the crimes he's done? You wouldn't look at him the same anymore, would you? Would you still love him despite knowing what he did or what he ate? He wouldn't take any risks. If he has the person he loves the most in his arms, why would he easily throw you away?

If the truth hasn't been told, he'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you forever.

You knew he acted differently than normal people. He's a little different because of his upbringing, and that's normal for kids with neglected parents growing up with a weird habit of theirs and that was just his charm, right?

Because you think it was just a charm of his, you didn't run when you had the chance to. Besides, if he was so sweet to you, so kind to you, so good to you, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?

There's a reunion dinner later tonight with your old high school mates and of course you're coming. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You've already informed Andrew of this and for the past week he was okay with it, but why is his tone now sounded . . . different?

"You're going?" He asked from the couch. One of his legs propped up on the other and an arm over the couch. His green eyes look up and down at your fit that he knows you chose the best from your closet. You're going to meet some nobodies with that outfit? You didn't even wear something so pretty when he's around! Not that you aren't pretty. It's just you put a tiny bit less effort when going out or being with Andrew.

"I've already told you, haven't I?" You're putting on your shoes at the front door and you hear some shuffling. Your hand is at the doorknob now. "I'll be back before ten. I prom—"

The door slams shut again before you could even open a crack. You can feel him behind you. His hands on the door, caging you between him and the solid wood.

"You are not going." His voice is low, almost threatening.

You turn around to face. You do not want to have this conversation right now. You're going to be late, that is if you find a way to stir this around to go your way.

"Andrew, this is unfair. Last week, you told me I can go so why are you backing out now? Tonight of all days!"

It wasn't his intention to upset you nor ruin your night but why are they taking you away from him?

"Why are you still excited about going? Don't you remember what they've done to you? They isolated you . . . remember?"

They isolated you. Yeah, right. He was the reason behind it anyways, but poor you who loves him too never suspected your own boyfriend was the culprit.

"They . . . didn't. You said they didn't have the energy to talk," your voice was almost a whisper. You weren't even confident of your own answer. You're starting to reminisce about the old days at school. Sure, they didn't talk to you anymore, but the reunion dinner is going to be different, right?

His hand moves down to lock the door but his actions made you take a step back, hitting the door. You forgot you're kind of trapped right now with no way out unless reasoning with him first.

"You don't really have to go . . ." The same hand moves up to your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear ever so gently it's almost . . . unnervingly creepy. "Do you?"

His eyebrow raised in question.

Your heart is starting to pick up its pace. Your fingertips are running cold. You don't understand yourself why you're so nervous in front of him. I mean, you had been nervous around him but this is a different kind of nervous. It's fear. Fear of him. However, he never hurt you yet. He never raised his voice to you. He's always been nice and sweet to you. But you really can't help this weird feeling.

So you slowly tell him how you feel.

"You're scaring me."

And there it is. It hit something in him. It's the last thing he wants, but the first thing to make you listen to him.

You can see his facial expression changes from demanding to guilt.

"Love, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me!" His caging arms now freeing you while backing away a bit, most likely a tactic to show you he's innocent. "I'm just saying, wouldn't you be left out at dinner? I don't want my pretty girl coming home sad and disappointed when the past week you've been so excited about this dinner."

Andrew takes your silence to continue. "Stay here. With me."

You really want to insist on going yet you don't want to risk starting a fight. But it's unfair! You always let him win you over, now he needs to listen and let you go. Maybe a small chance could probably lead to a huge success.

"But please!" You drag the word longer, hoping he'll give in. "I haven't seen my friends for I don't how many years. It's just this once."

You seem energetic again. He takes this chance to step closer, a hand on the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your glossed lips you put on earlier, smudging it. His gaze move up from your lips to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling, but no means no." He said it so softly before he kissed you longingly. You somehow melt into him despite your disagreement. He's really not losing—like always.

He broke off the kiss to continue persuading you to stay. "I'm doing this for your own good. Sometimes you're too naive to be staying around them. You're too nice. I've seen it. And it hurts to watch you being used and throw you away."

You exhale a deep breath from the stress. Maybe Andrew's right. Maybe you are too naive to realize. They asked you for homework and notes, but then one day, they stopped talking to you. Maybe they really did see no use in you they've fulfilled their satisfaction.

But Andrew . . . Andrew never stopped talking to you. Andrew never threw you away. Andrew was always there through it all. Andrew never left you by yourself.

Like right now.

"Okay," you spoke softly, like a whisper, before nodding your head. "I'll stay in with you."

Good thing you were looking at the ground because now, Andrew can't hide the big smile on his face. He successfully manages to keep you by his side. His heart beats rapidly from the excitement, his skin was buzzing. He can be with you tonight. He can stay with you. Just the two of you!

He pulls you in his arms and strokes your hair. "That's my good girl. Always so obedient." He kisses the crown of your head before leading you to your bedroom so you can change to a more comfortable clothes.

He dreams of having you by his side forever but he doesn't want to go to extreme measures such as locking you in or tying you up. Maybe not just yet. Since you're so good to him and love him too, you deserve to roam around freely until you start to disobey.

He wouldn't want to do it but tonight, he was close to doing so just from how persistent you were.

[thicctails]

I C R A V E more gbc au stuff: particularly with Bill: were the twins aware of Bill before gravity falls? what do they tell the twins about bill once they get there? how does bill and his parents even go about reconnecting?? I want to know more about the direct aftermath of the reunion. It's not hard to piece together Bill and Fords relationship from the journals: did they read into it the wrong direction or smth? Like Bill fucking traumatized Ford: Euclid and Scalene's estranged long lost son fucking severly traumatized and manipulated a realtive of their adoptive kids: there's gotta be more complex feelings there? Does Bill blame them for his medical trauma? do Scalene and Euclid regret that? did they have differing opinions on it back when? also like, now Bill is legit insane: what with him having been percieved insane or a ticking time bomb of insanity before how do they feel about that? do they have differeing opinions?????

FNSKJDFNSDKJ DSI C R A V E MORE FERERJSNJKFDNFKE

PLEASE FEED MEEEEE

Ask and ye shall r e c e i v e

Both Scalene and Euclid were under the impression that Bill died when Euclidea inevitably collapsed in on itself. They told Dipper and Mabel that they had a child, but never went into much detail, as it hurt too much to talk about.

(You can imagine how fucking gutted they were when they saw images of him all around the Shack. Journal 3 was just a big fat gob of salt in their open wounds)

Reconnecting for them is like a healing an infected wound: you have to cut out the rot, grit your teeth for the burn of cleaning it out, work to keep the infection away, and accept the fact that there will be a scar.

Bill is so fundamentally broken and mentally unwell that not even the Axolotl can really fix him. The best he can do is help Bill get to a point where he can begin again in a different form. But getting to that point is the real trouble. It's rotten work, a path laden with pain and suffering and hurt feelings, but it's the only option worth fighting for.

Scalene and Euclid feel immense guilt for the mistakes they made raising Bill. They allowed themselves to be pressured into trying to make their gifted son normal, and everyone they ever loved and then some ended up paying the price. Bill may have started the fire, but their misguided good intentions handed him the match.

Bill himself is a whirlwind of emotions. He is unexplainably relieved that his parents are alive, but that also means that he can no longer possess a false bravado and pretend he intentionally slaughtered his entire dimension. His past is red and blue and in his face, and the voices have only gotten louder since he saw his mother's heartbroken face. Not only that, but they have, in his eye, replaced him with two of the people destined to destroy him! They look at Shooting Star and Pinetree with all the fondness they used to look at him with, and it makes his insides burn.

They also are constantly setting off each other's triggers, like some kind of sick oroborus of trauma. Bill's powers often manifest as pyrokinesis, which isn't great when your parents are still living with the horrific injuries caused by said fire. On the other side of the coin, Euclid has been soothing the twins with gentle TV static since they were little, since his preferred method of manifestation is screen-based technology, (whereas Scalene prefers music and books) which has caused Bill to spiral into a violent panic attack more than once.

As for Ford... well, neither Cipher parent is fond of him, as i've stated, but while they don't know the entire story of how his and Bill's time together was, they know enough to know that it ended in violence and misery, and they are not so heartless that they do not feel pity for the man and disgust towards their son's actions. They make it very clear to their eldest, when they can stand to speak to each other, that he is to never possess another member of the Pines family.

He only breaks that promise once, though it was for a good reason. Gideon needed a good beat down, and Pine Tree was too hurt to make that jump without help.

[skinnyminiindustrial]

FESTIVAL AT UA

♡Summary: It's been five years since you graduated from UA and became a pro-hero. During a reunion festival back at UA, you are reunited with your old classmates, including Bakugo Katsuki, the spiky-haired blonde who never left your thoughts.

Word count: 1,661

☆*:.｡. o o .｡.:*☆

It had been five years since I graduated from UA, and life as a Pro Hero had its ups and downs for sure, but never as bad as the all-for-one battle. We are still rebuilding and trying to go back to some sort of normal since that day, which is hard, but we will pull through! Today is going to be a break from all that. The reunion festival at UA is happening, and I couldn’t be more excited! I was even more excited to see a certain spiky-haired blonde who had never left my thoughts.

Bakugo Katsuki, “The Boy Who Lived.” I liked to call him sometimes, and it’s all thanks to Edge Shot, who kept his heart beating and fixed him up. He died, keeping him alive. It was a miraculous recovery that Bakugo made. Way before the battle had even remotely begun, Bakugo was always a part of my UA experience. His explosive personality, raw determination, and passion had drawn me in back then, and if I’m being honest with myself, they still do. But back in high school, he was more focused on proving himself than anything else, and I figured that relationships weren’t exactly what he was worried about back then. Also, the all-for-one thing went down, and I never got to tell my feelings to him.

Years of hero work and occasional meet-ups with friends have buried them deep down in my heart. Today was different. Something about being back at UA felt nostalgic, and my heart started to race as I made my way to the festival!

The campus had lights hanging up, but it was evening and there was still light outside, so I couldn’t tell that they were that bright. Confetti littered the ground from the original opening earlier that day. Booths lined the walkways, and I could already spot some familiar faces.

I made my way through the crowd, with a few people stopping me for pictures. I was chatting with old classmates like Kirishima and Mina, and strangely, I felt a familiar explosive energy near me. I turned my head, and there he was—Bakugo Katsuki, his arms crossed. He had his usual scowl as he talked to Deku and Todoroki while walking towards us. He looked so different he looked more grown-up than when I last saw him, more confident and aware of people in a sense. But those red eyes still burned with the same fiery intensity.

I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest. I took a breath as they approached us. “Hey, guys!”

“You made it,” Kirishima said to Bakugo, Todoroki, and Deku as they walked up to us, hugging them all. Bakugo looked not welcoming of it, but he didn’t tell him to back off.

“Of course! We wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Deku smiled as I tried not to make eye contact with Bakugo just yet.

“We were just talking about how weird it feels to be back after everything,” Deku added with the bright smile he used to have back in the day.

“Except we’re all Pro Heroes now,” Todoroki said coolly, glancing at Bakugo with a small smirk.

“TCH. Don’t go getting sentimental, idiots,” Bakugo scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away.

I chuckled. “Still as charming as ever, Bakugo?”

His gaze snapped to me, and just for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes and a slight change of emotion. But before I could even decipher it, he snapped back and turned his head away with a grunt. “Whatever.”

Despite his normal gruff demeanor, I always found Bakugo’s bluntness kind of endearing. It was part of his charm, I guess. He didn’t sugarcoat anything.

The festival continued, with games and activities all around, but my eyes kept finding my way back to Bakugo. I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep myself busy with some festival games—winning a plush toy here, laughing at Kaminari being a fool there—but no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bakugo’s presence was magnetic.

Finally, I found myself wandering through a quieter part of the festival, away from most of the crowds. The lights that hung up in the trees lighting my path are now brighter because of the night sky. I didn’t notice Bakugo following me until I heard his voice behind me.

“Hey”

I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat. Bakugo stood there, his hands still in his pockets, his eyes locked on mine. “You’ve been staring at me all day,” he said, his tone a mix of frustration and something else I could not quite place.

My goodness, I must have looked like such a freak to him, I bet I creeped him out so bad. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I wasn’t staring,” I stammered, trying my best to brush it off.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, taking a step closer. “What’s up with you?”

I swallowed, unsure of how to respond to him. After all, how was I supposed to explain my years of lingering feelings? How am I supposed to tell Bakugo Katsuki that I have had a crush on him since high school?

But before I could even try to answer, Bakugo sighed, his gaze softening—something anyone rarely saw. “You’re different,” he muttered. He’s quieter than usual. “What’s going on?”

I blinked, taken aback. The last time he saw me was when we spit up in our groups to fight. The last time he saw me was when we spit up in our groups to fight the villains. We haven’t talked since then, only hearing things about each other either through the news or through our mutual friends, and yet he is acting like how we used to be back in the day, trying to not show it back then, but I know he cared for me in some way, even if it was something little that he thinks nobody else would recognize even though they all did, and I did too, but right now he’s acting like he was worried.

“I’m fine,” I say softly, though my heart is pounding. “I just… it’s been a while since we have seen each other, and all of us together, it just brings back a lot of memories, you know?”

Bakugo’s eyes flickered with resignation. “Yeah,” he muttered, looking away for a moment. “I get it.”

There was a brief silence between us before he spoke again. “You never said anything,” he said, his voice low. “Back at UA.”

I had a curious look on my face. “Said anything about what?”

“About liking me”

My heart stopped. I stared at him, eyes wide. “W-what?”

He huffed, a small smirk appearing on his face. “You think I’m blind? I noticed. Today I noticed, back then I noticed. I just didn’t say anything because... I wasn’t ready for it back then.”

My mouth went dry since, I guess, I was mouth-breathing and my heart was pounding in my chest. Dude, was he…confessing? Bakugo Katsuki? What the hell was he saying?

“Why are you bringing this up now?” I asked, and my voice was barely a whisper.

He shrugged, his eyes meeting mine again, more serious this time. “‘Cause I’ve had enough time to figure things out. And to be honest, I don’t hate the idea of you liking me.”

My cheeks burned, but before I could say anything, Bakugo stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “So, what do you think?” He asked, his voice soft but confident. “So are you going to keep denying it, or are we doing this?”

I blinked up at him, my heart raving, and a slow smile slowly appeared on my face. “I guess we’re doing this,” I whispered.

Bakugo smirked, and without another word, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It was unexpectedly gentle, and I might say his lips were soft, and he was a good kisser. It was unlike what I imagined it would be. But it was perfect.

Bakugo pulled away from the kiss, his usual confident smirk still on his face, but then there was a softer gleam in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I was speechless, my heart still fluttering as I processed what just happened. Did Bakugo just kiss me?

“Don’t get all weird now,” he said. His voice was gruff as he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little awkward and out of his element. “I ain’t good with this kind of stuff, but… you better not regret it.”

I let out a small laugh before I could even stop myself. Seeing Bakugo, usually so tough, loud, and aggressive, flustered like this was kind of cute. “I definitely won’t regret it,” I said softly, my smile widening as I watched him struggle to keep up his tough-guy facade.

“Good,” he grumbled, his pink cheeks still visible by the lights. “‘cause if you do regret it, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” I teased, stepping a little closer. I felt confident now that the air between us had shifted. “Yell at me until I don’t.”

He shot me a halfhearted glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a smile. “TCH. Don’t push your luck.”

Bakugo might not have been that emotionally expressive in public, but right now he was letting it all hang out, and right now I could tell he was happy. It was written all over his face.

I think every thing is going to be different now, and I can’t wait to see what happens!

☆*:.｡. o o .｡.:*☆

My first story!!!!

[effloradox]

what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

-

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

[spacebarbarianweird]

hi!!! i play a drow/dhampir warlock, how do you think astarion would react if durgetav was a dhampir?

This is a very interesting take! Besides, I and @marcynomercy are obsessed with Dhampirs. Since I have a separate request for Drows, I will make this one solely about a Dhampir Tav

Who has serious body image and acceptanace issues because like many dhampirs Tav can't stand neither vampires nor vampiric ancestry.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Dhampir!Tav

You are an outcast.

You spent your childhood as a normal child, but at the of 16 you felt a terrible bloodlust.

The fangs grew, replacing canines.

Your mother taught you all your life that vampires are monsters and disgusting creatures.

But apparently, she slept with one of them.

Since you are a god forsaken dhampir.

You are scared. You beg for mercy.

But your mortal family throws you out, threatening to murder you if you ever dare come back.

You run away. Alone and scared.

Maybe, vampires can answer your questions? Maybe, your father - whoever he is - can help you?

Alas, no family reunion for an outcast like you.

The vampire who fathered you is a disgusting evil creature who knows nothing but violence.

He doesn't recognize you as your child. Moreover, he doesn't even understand what you are.

You lock him in silver chains and drag him to meet the sun one last time.

You are a dhampir. The only thing any vampire must be afraid of.

Immune to vampirism. Fast and dangerous. A stepchild of the night.

You are embarrassed of your ancestry. You cover your mouth and explain your pale skin by a rare skin condition. But people still fear you, even more than vampires.

You wish you were never born like that.

Eventually, you become a renowned vampire hunter.

One day, you get a request to murder a certain Vampire Lord in Baldur's Gate along with all his spawns and thralls.

You are ready to do such a job pro-bono.

But... The gods have other plans for you.

The moment you meet Astarion, you know who he is. No vampire can hide their rotten nature from a dhampir.

But there is something about him, something about what and how he tells his story, that makes your feel pity.

He doesn't look like those morons who wanted to be vampires. He doesn't look like he enjoyed what he was doing on his master's orders.

He is a victim.

The night he wants to bite you, he realizes your blood tastes weird - it's not like he can't drink it, but more like... he'd better not.

"I am half a vampire, Astarion. Don't push your luck."

You agree that you won't have any problems with him drinking blood if he doesn't hurt the companions and useful people.

You know your own bloodthirst. Astarion has its much worse

You gradually fall in love. Maybe it's your own desire to embrace your dark nature.

Upon arrival at Baldur's Gate, you make a decision - you will destroy Cazador and all his spawns, leaving only Astarion alive.

But - you won't let him ascend.

Otherwise, you will be his mortal enemy. And if ascends, you will kill him instantly.

You kill Cazador - but something changes inside you. You see other spawns, miserable and sorrowful. You've never thought you could feel compassion toward them.

Astarion is different, after all. No vampire is like him. But others... You suddenly see so much in common with them.

Your dark family, your blood, your kind.

Astarion also makes a choice. Ascension means losing you. He will be able to subdue everyone to his will, but not a dhampir.

But you warn the spawns - you will not hesitate to kill them if they lose control.

Post-game, you together do what you do best.

Monster hunting.

You are immune to necrotic damage, he is a literal vampire. You are unstoppable together.

You help him with nightmares and body autonomy issues.

He trusts you. Even though he must be afraid of you.

Sometimes, you love-bite him with your fangs, and, gods, he likes it.

His skin regenerates, and you pierce it once again.

You also learn to love your own body. Your pale skin, your fangs, your dark hair.

It's difficult to hate yourself when Astarion adores you.

You are both fast and deadly.

And you are going to be together for many centuries - dhampirs live as long as elves. 

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[the-white-void]

Unbounded by the Trivial

You are an imposter but you don’t really care about anything anymore so you just let it be, it’s not like if you try hard enough you could change it.

You had a normal life and whatever happened you just let it be, “it is what it is” was your motto in life, so if there’s anything you don’t have control over, you wouldn’t go out of your way to change it.

And so after your mind was blown off you woke up in genshin impact and let your holy luck deal with what kind of situation you would end up in.

Oh lo and behold the Knights have swarmed you with weapons and blockaded your surroundings “Welp, I ain’t surviving this shit” you thought in your mind, the acting grandmaster marched through the crowd of knights while you simply stayed on the ground looking at everyone’s feet “you have committed high treason for impersonation of the divine one” her voice boomed across the field “you imprisoned until the gods of the nation’s decide what to do with you” as she readied her blade preparing for an attempt of your escape “ok” was all yet happened, you a criminal with unknown punishment simply just letting it happen?

The blade still in hand in belief that you were bluffing, you stood up with hands upfront “So what are you waiting for?” This move stunned the crowd as the Knight in front of you cuffed your hands with a puzzled face.

Taken to the dungeons of Mondstat you just waited while trying to chat with the guards and entertain yourself with their reactions, some were repellent against you, some were hesitant to reply, and some even turned into a therapy session.

It didn’t take long for the true creator to know of your arrival and then immediately start planning how they will greet their precious baby in their palace.

The archons rarely meet one another and especially all 7 of them in the same room and here they are because of you. It all started awkwardly since no one knew how to start this off, after some time the silence was broken by Zhongli “So it seems we all agree that something needs to be done with the imposter” he said looking suspiciously at the Tsaritsa “If you all agree?” he questioned, all of them nodded in agreement “so then what would you like to suggest then?” the dendro archon asked the other gods, the anemo archon quickly jumped up “a simple public execution would suffice their grace won’t it?” the green bard suggested but some were hesitant.

Therefore the hydro archon proposed a vote, those who wish for the undertaking of the imposter were to raise their right hand, and those who opposed were to raise their left. 4 raised their right hand, Zhongli, Venti, Ei, and Murata all agreed to punish the imposter by taking their life, and 2 presented their left hand in a debate against the option which was from the dendro and hydro archon, many were shocked by the god of justice going against the idea.

“Why would you of all people go against this?” Ei stood up and asked her in disbelief “Well serving unjust justice is no different than committing a crime and based on what I’ve heard they don’t seem to be doing anything wrong” she stated as the Tsaritsa cut her off “Your reasoning lacks evidence, as you said you’ve only heard it” her tone cold and stern sticking a nerve on the hydro archon “that’s funny coming from someone who chose no side and that is exactly why I wish to see for my self who this imposter really is if you’d allow me barbatoes” to which he approved.

The Divine overseer of teyvat ignored all their duties and continuously daydreamed about how their reunion would go as they decorated their place on all your desires with a joyous smile.

A few days pass until the God of Justice arrived in the city of freedom where the imposter was held imprisoned. Upon entering faint voices were heard from where they were supposed to be detained but when she arrived expecting a violent prisoner but saw a knight shedding tears at a figure behind bars gently patting their head and mouthing words she could not decipher.

The knight saw the high figure then quickly wiped their tears and greeted them with their voice croaking “Your majesty, welcome to Mondstat, the imposter is held here” They gestured to your cell while you were limped on the bars looking at the god before you “so are you here to kill me?” this question was unexpected from someone with the face the deity that sees all “no but I am here for answers, specifically from you” she glowered at you “although I am against just killing you for no apparent reason other than looking like them I do have to know your intentions. Now tell” as she motions the guards to leave

You sigh and tell them what you know including some hints about your world.

“So you tell me you are from another world where this world is implemented as a game where everything is recorded as a story for people all over your world”

“Yep”

“I see… am I any good?”

“huh?”

“You did say all of teyvat became a game in your world so what did you think of me?”

“I don’t know, you weren’t in it yet”

A disappointed sigh left her lips while you were confused. “As much as what you have told me does seem farfetched, how do you expect me to believe this?” your expression was all drained from thinking about what you’ve been doing with your life “Believe what you want to believe, it ain’t really my problem”

“Aren’t you a little too pessimistic?”

“It’s from experience and from that I just gave up on controlling things that are out of control”

The hydro archon stood up to leave the saddening aura of the room “You are one weak soul aren’t you” she said before she left “I am… and pathetic”

Out of the dungeon waiting for the god of justice were the other six archons waiting for what was information about the imposter.

“What did you find out about them?” the god of freedom taunted “Nothing? I bet they wouldn’t even talk to you”

“They looked lost and defeated, but what they said is unbelievable… but possible”

“Sympathy from you? They must be lucky?” the war wretched god teased

“Well, what did they say?” the wisdom-thirsty deity asked

“That is not necessary, 4 to 2 when we decided if they are to be executed for the public and for their grace” the former geo archon imposed on the group.

Not long when the execution day had come when your head was locked in a guillotine, you were shaking no your body was but you just stayed still as your tears ran down your face.

After decorating their palace and planning how you two will be with each other and replaying all these scenarios in their head they finally descend upon the lands of teyvat but it was quiet… and silent and they finally realized that they have not checked up on the people for some time and saw what was to happen, nothing but rage was all they could feel as they dashed through the wind to find you

Your head was cut but you did not die, you were wide awake while looking at your headless body, it did not have muscles or bones, it was like a tip bucked with golden blood being spilt across the floor, you tried to stand up and so did your body and it worked like it was normal.

Many were horrified by the blood they had spilt, divine blood, but you simply picked up your head and lifted it above your head

“Holy smokes dude, this cut is insane, shoutout to my barber daug”

Then the earth began to rumble and the winds and thunders covered the sky before the Divine Deity you’ve heard of appears before you, several thoughts came swirling down your head until you dropped then the creator’s face turned to worry as they trembled from the sound of your head clashing with the ground, it didn’t take long for your head blood to run out where you fainted.

You woke up in the arms of the creator snuggling you close to their arms humming a lullaby you are unfamiliar with “Oh, you’re awake, are feeling any better? Do you need me to get something?” Their words going through one ear out the other “Are you that god they talkin' about?” “Yes but no need for such formalities my dear child” their tone giving off the feeling ling clouds “So you are like my parent now?” “I always have been” You were beyond confused but you’ll ask about it later.

“Ok, but what happened to uh.. the hydro archon?” You were curious about her since that day “She’s imprisoned like the others” “but she didn’t do anything” “Oh, I see very well then I’ll get her”.

She was released shortly after and she thanked you for your generosity but you simply wish for a chat every now and then, the Tsaritsa was also released since she was merely listening for information

[nobedofroses]

October 14th

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

warnings: reader has given birth in the last few months, mentions of nursing

words: 743

a/n: Hmm I don't know that I can count the word "cottage" as a prompt from @illfoandillfie since I had to come up with everything else (lmao ily). Little bit of missing Pero, little bit of reuniting

Directory, Day 13

🎃🎃🎃

A year after your last autumnal visit to the market, Pero was there selling another horse and you were not. You had wanted to go and he had so wanted you to go, but your tiny baby girl, Alma, was too little to travel yet. With tears in your eyes and an oblivious three month old in your arms, you bid Pero goodbye with a sweet, loving kiss that you kind of hoped would be enough to keep him there. It sadly didn’t work, but he did look back several times as he rode away. 

Pero was only going to be gone one night since he wasn’t going to be spending extra time with you in the market and had even offered to make the trip in one day, but you didn’t want him traveling that late or for that long. 

It was surprising all the ways you missed him for just one day. The way he always got up earlier than you so he could build up the fire and bring your housecoat from where you left it by the washbasin like you always did. How he would scoop up Alma after she was done nursing to burp and take care of her so you could rest and relax. The way he spoke to her as he patted her back, telling her about what the plan was for the day with the horses and asking what she was planning to do with her day. 

Thinking about all of this when you fed Alma after he left made you a little misty-eyed as you took care of her by yourself, more out of absolute love for Pero than being sad that he was gone for a day, but it was pretty close. 

You ate your meals with William and Charlotte in the inn so you could have some adult company and because it was strange to cook for one. Plus they loved every second they had with their niece. 

That night, when you were getting ready for bed, you had to build up the fire a little extra. The nights were getting colder and colder and you wouldn’t have Pero to keep you warm. 

In the morning, you went through your normal routine, pointedly trying not to think about the differences you had anticipated yesterday, and instead focused on the fact that Pero would be back in a couple hours. And with him would be goods for not only your home, but some medicines and things for whoever wanted to buy or trade for them in the village. You also knew there would probably be a book or two and something for Alma, which was exciting. 

At lunch, Charlotte half-jokingly offered to take Alma until dinner so the two of you could have a proper reunion. You laughed but said that Pero would want to see Alma as soon as he got home. And he’d have to unpack. And take care of his horse, Fred. Then she suggested taking her after dinner until you came and got her for her last feeding and bed and you readily agreed. 

Pero came back within an hour after lunch. Alma was napping in her bassinet, so you rushed outside to be able to embrace him as soon as he got off his horse. Possibly you had been watching out the window for him. 

His strong arms were around you in an instant. You buried your face where his neck met his shoulder and said, “Pero, oh darling, I missed you so much.” 

“A mi también, querida. So much.”

You loved being enveloped in him like this, but you knew Fred should be unburdened and you shouldn’t leave Alma alone for much longer. 

“Alma’s napping, but I’ll bring her out to you if she wakes up before you’re done,” you told Pero, knowing he’d want to see her as soon as possible. 

“Yes, perfect. I’ll be in as soon as I can,” Pero said before bringing you in for a deep kiss that you weren’t expecting. 

When he released you, you stood there for a second, dazed, until Pero grabbed your shoulders and bodily turned you back to the cottage. You walked back, a little wobbly, and when you got to the door and turned back to look at Pero, he was watching you with a grin. 

You felt your cheeks flush with heat but wondered if maybe you should’ve taken Charlotte up on her first offer.

🎃🎃🎃

[todays-just-a-daydream]

in absence of a reunion noel interview i'm going back to revisit the great gallagher thaw of late 2014/early 2015 to try to make some sense outta these strange reunion times we are in now.

i've been really curious about this time period for awhile and stockpiling posts with the intention of assembling them in some kind of chronological order. still not quite sure what i'm looking at but it's a bit like find the edge pieces of a puzzle and snapping them together for a frame. you can get a vague idea while understanding much of the pieces are missing to complete the picture. most notably noel is giving interviews at this time while liam is mostly out of the public eye entirely.

assembled them in the queue and looking at them in order now and getting a bit choked up by what we have. even factoring in the normal album press cycle, noel's interviews have noticeable outlier moments during this time. charting his uncharacteristically relaxed calm fondness to emotionally raw moments when mentioning liam, it does look like any attempt at a truce all goes south within a months time (mid february to mid march 2015). coincidence it’s when dead in the water is written and the chasing yesterday is released? of course it’s not lost on me it also is at a period of nostalgia with the 20th anniversaries of their first two albums and part of the buzz about a reunion driven by stone roses reunion. but in the course of the entire feud it sticks out as different. and suggests noel was more invested in a reconciliation than he’d ever be willing to admit.

queuing them up now. when they're done posting i'll link them to the chronological list below to access them easily.

—

2014/2015 gallagher timeline

2014 february : beady eye cancels coachella gig, manager splits 21 october: "we're on good terms." 25 october: "beady eye are no longer." ?? october: "don't give up"

17 november: in the heat of the moment released (do the damage bside) 31 december: "i think liam should make a solo record"

2015 12 january: ballad of the mighty i released (revolution song bside) 4 february: "i’d write him a few songs. i've got a few songs lying around that he'd be good at singing." (also takes a dig at beady eye) 20 february: "[liam] sends me cheeky texts from time to time." (interview) 25 february: "we're alright. i'm a bit concerned that he's starting to grow facial hair....family is family, you don't have to patch it up do you?…blood is thicker than mud." (interview) 26 february: dead in the water writing 28 february: recording dead in the water live at RTÉ 2FM radio studios in dublin (after dying of the light which airs 2 march with a live interview)

2 march: chasing yesterday released 14 march: "keeping it in the family" lg tweet with nghfb pass 21 march: "you're already ruining my day talking about him" 24 march: "liam is a very angry man still and as long as he's angry we won't be friends i'm afraid" 2(?) may: "can't be arsed" + lg tweet goad 7-11 may: "busted" lg tweet (in response to AA interview)

11 may: riverman released (leave my guitar alone bside)

26 july: liam playing bold in a pub (video)

28 august: lock all the doors single (here’s a candle for your birthday cake bside)

21 september: noel wishing liam a happy birthday 5(?) december: "and maybe one day you know we will get back together" (video)

[kuwdora]

Witcher Recs - Cahir (TWN Edition)

More witcher recs! This post is devoted to The Witcher Netflix's Cahir. Here are 8 stories that includes some rarepairs, shenanigans and smut. I won't rule out making another TWN Cahir recs post since I haven't even gone into some of my other bookmarks that I made back when I was reading as much as I could. So many good stories everywhere.

Hangover by @astaldis. 3785w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla and Cahir. Season 3 canon divergence AU. Drunken shenanigans. Angst and humor. After a night of celebrating his unexpected reunion with Fringilla, Cahir wakes up with a bad hangover and with no memory of the events of the night.

Forever besties and confessions, omg. Fringilla and Cahir’s dynamic is so great, I can’t get enough of it and thankfully this author has so much great fic with them.

In the city of golden towers by @limerental. 11,858, Mature. TWN but blending with books. Fringilla & Cahir. After being accused of treason for their role in Xin'trea, Fringilla is dismissed and demoted, and Cahir is reassigned. Sent back to the City of Golden Towers, the capital of Nilfgaard, the pair end up reluctantly sharing a room together in Cahir's great aunt's apartments.

OMG they were platonic roommates. It’s such a great story about home and friendship and being in that liminal space after failure and not knowing where you fit in now that you’ve fucked up. It’s got some great anachronistic tidbits of the kind you’d find in the witcher books, a ton of incredible Fringilla characterizations, a cat character, and a ton of laugh out loud moments.

the backs have bled by woahpip. 606w. Teen. TWN. Yennefer/Cahir. “You can never trust someone like me, Cahir.” His face never changed; that wasn’t news to him.

This is a great fireside chat between the two characters. It’s a great and candid look at their very different lived experiences and their general philosophy on life. Great ficlet.

Flame and Chaos by MindTraveler. 7531w. Mature. TWN. Yennefer/Cahir. Touch-starved, horsemanship, touch starved. He hadn’t been touched in months, except for pain. Yennefer and Cahir struggle to retrieve what they have both lost. Power.

This is really fucking delicious and really turned me onto the possibilities of the pairing.

A Skittish Colt by @sassaffrassa. 300w. Explicit. Regis/Cahir. Fisting, d/s, praise kink. Cahir's stress can be easily managed with the proper medical techniques applied.

This is 🔥🔥🔥.

What soliders do by Ruler_of_Nope_Island. 742 words. Explicit. TWN. Gallatin/Cahir. Handjobs, there was only one bedroll. It's been a cold, long journey, and the lads need to rest.

Delicious smut.

Stinkhorn by kayforpay. 1895w. Explicit. TWN. Gallatin/Cahir. Sex pollen. Cahir ran headlong into a patch of what Gallatin called "stinkhorn". What he failed to fully explain was that where elves simply had to wash their clothes a few more times than normal, humans tended to fall into a sex frenzy.

More delicious smut.

Head Rush by aunt_zelda. 200 words. Explicit. TWN. Emhyr/Cahir. Alcohol, fealty, dubcon, rape. He owes the Emperor everything, body and soul.

The gif inspiration for this fic, whewwww. This fic is A Lot for 200 words.

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Angst and Connection

Sorceress Femslash Part 1

Villains and Bad Guys Part 1

Istredd Recs

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part ten

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

your reunion comes with a price.

a/n: can’t stop won’t stop part today part tomorrow we are AMMMMMMMPED people. and this is the first official chapter with the use of Liv’s name! she will still be as nondescript as possible for now (this plot is ever-evolving) with sparse use of her name. but like I said in the announcement, if named OCs are not your thing, there’s no hard feelings here! also a bit of Joel x Tess starting in this part - I do want to say that there is ZERO hate on my end for their relationship, I love what they did/are doing in the show, but for the sake of the plot, they are not as established in this fic.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, some questionable choices, drinking, Joel has a lot of feelings and doesn’t know how to express them.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters✨

He can’t stop pacing.

His gut has been knotted with worry since Tommy disappeared into around the bend in the road. Tess has been watching him every since, from her spot perched atop a long defrosted freezer. She’s got her knees pulled up, legs bowed, arms wrapped around. Some kind of comfortable, he supposes.

Joel’s back hurts. It always has, and the end of the world certainly hasn’t put a stop to it. He rubs at his shoulder as he paces, fingers digging into his muscle. The gun holstered at his thigh feels heavier than normal, the knife on his belt even more so.

The gas station is a few miles out of the city. It made the most sense, stopping here for now. It was decent shelter, empty of Infected, good sight lines. The luckiest they’d been in a long time. Luckier still when they found a mostly-intact map of the state buried under a stack of cardboard inside the station’s store. Tommy was sure of the path, and while Joel was loathe to let his brother leave, he knew it was the best play. But that hasn’t stopped him from pacing the floor so long he’s actually worn the tiles clean.

“Would you sit down or something?” Tess quips, her voice exasperated. “You’re making me fucking nervous, pacing like that.”

He gives her a hard look, but relents, heads for one of the windows dotting front of the store. He crosses his arms over his chest, stares through the grimy glass. 

They found Tess just outside of Kentucky, nearly three years back. Her and her husband, Nate, were just trying to make their way, same as Joel and Tommy. After a close call with a horde of Infected, they’d joined up, more convinced that strength was in numbers than anything else.

Tess is strong, capable. She’s proved herself a hundred times over, by now, saved both Joel and Tommy’s lives more than Joel cares to count. He doesn’t like feeling like he owes anybody anything, but with her, it’s different.

And after Nate turned, it got…different, again.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. She worked through her grief quietly, all too similar to himself. The name came up, and she shot it down. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Miller.”

Joel’s still holding onto you, in a way. It’s a spark that never truly goes out, a prick of warmth in his chest that he knows he has to keep small. It would burn its way straight through him if he let it get any bigger. He just…hopes you’re alive. That’s all he can allow himself to do.

But Tess, with her brash tone and her slim tolerance for bullshit, he can see the similarities, between you two. His mind wonders if you’d be friends, given the chance, and he has to force the thought from his head. There’s no guarantee you’re still in Boston, still breathing. There are not guarantees at all.

With Tess, it’s stress relief. He knows that. She knows that. The ground rules were laid out right from the first time. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did, and…it felt good. A small comfort in a world that was still hellbent on ending him.

A small comfort. A small spark. That’s all he’ll allow himself.

That’s all he can live with.

+

“Joel’s alive.”

Your boots squeak on the kitchen floor. You stare at Tommy, open-mouthed, gaping like a damn fish.

“He’s…alive.” The truth tastes funny on your tongue. You say it again. “Joel’s alive.”

Tommy nods, and you pull him back against you, hugging him a second time, a nearly shouted oh my god falling from your lips as you collide again. He laughs, the sound like music to your ears, hugging you tighter still. “So are you, Liv,” he says, his voice low in your ear, cracking on your name, and you pull back again.

“Where is he?” you ask, gripping his shoulders. “Where have you been? How long, since you left Austin? Is Sarah with Joel? What’s…” The questions keep pouring out of you, something triggered in the back of your brain. You need to know everything; where they’ve been, what they’ve been doing, how they stayed alive all these years. You need to know.

Tommy lets go of you just enough to take your hand, but before he can get a word out, Deanna speaks. “Maybe you two should go downstairs,” she says, putting a soft hand on your shoulder. “Kiddos should get to bed soon, y’all should have your privacy.”

You nod, and Tommy follows suit. “Thank you, Deanna,” he says, catching her hand before she can walk away. “For everything.”

She smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Tommy.” Her eyes slide to you. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You just nod again, the questions still stalled on your tongue. Tommy follows you out of Deanna’s apartment, down the hallway to the stairs. You only hit the first landing before you can’t hold your tongue any longer. “How did you find me?”

“I asked around at the clinic, after I got through the gate,” he says, keeping pace with you as you head down the next flight of stairs. “Didn’t think FEDRA soldiers was a good place to start. The first nurse had no idea what I was on about, but another heard me say your name and pointed me in Deanna’s direction. Took a bit of interrogating at the business end of a shotgun to convince her I really knew you, but she warmed up to me in the end.”

“Shotgun?” you balk. You’ve told her a million times not to keep the thing around, in case FEDRA ever came knocking. (Pot calling the kettle black, you’re well aware…) But she’s insisted on keeping it strapped beneath the kitchen table ever since the mall. “That woman, I swear.”

“She had nothing but nice things to say about you,” he informs you, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your mouth as you hit the second landing, pushing the door open that leads to the hallway. “Sounds like you’ve been making quite the living.”

“Doing what I can,” you reply, fishing your keys out of your pocket. “This is me.” You stop in front of your door, unlock it, push it open. “Not much, but it works.”

Tommy follows you in, shucks off his jacket. You do the same, hiding your bag beneath it on the hook. You point out the bathroom, offer him some water.

“Is this a cup of tea conversation,” you ask, handing him a water bottle, “or a something stronger kind of conversation?”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You have something stronger?”

You tell him to sit, walk into the kitchen and shove the fridge to the side with a heave, revealing the hole you cracked into the drywall, stacked with bottles of liquor. “Pick your poison, Miller.”

He’s gaping at you. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious,” you laugh, pushing a hand through your still-damp hair. “Lots of abandoned houses outside the wall, lots of rich people who left a lot of good shit behind.”

He points to one of the bottles, and you pull it out, set it on the counter, shove the fridge back into place. Mismatched glasses are laid out on the table, filled with two fingers of dark liquor, some barrel-aged whiskey you haven’t even tried yet.

“To you,” Tommy says, raising his glass to you, and your mouth twitches, the soft clink reaching your ears. The first sip burns, and you wince, setting the glass on the table. “Where do I start?”

“At the beginning, ideally,” you quip, and he laughs, draining his glass to nothing and reaching for the bottle.

“May I?”

“‘Course.”

Tommy has been with Joel the whole time. “I was in the truck with him, when he called you that night,” he says, and the memory makes your shoulder prickle. “When the phone cut out, I thought he was gonna put his fist through my damn dashboard.” He chuckles, but there’s no humour in it. “The plan has always been to come to Boston.” His dark eyes flick up to your face. “To find you. Or try to. After—” He stops, cuts himself short, empties his glass again.

“After what?” you prompt, reaching out and laying your hand on Tommy’s forearm. “Tommy, tell me. Please.”

“I was in jail, the night everything went down. Got into some stupid bar fight, didn’t realize until after that the guy was infected; tried to bite the fuckin’ waitress. But I called Joel, and he came to get me. We saw all kinds of weird shit happening in the city, heard weirder shit on the radio, then he called you. We went home, got Sarah, tried to get the hell out of dodge. We got stuck, in the city. Fuckin’ plane fell right out of the sky, crashed my truck.

“We got separated, for a while. I had to circle around, try to meet up with them again, and when I found them, Joel, he…” He trails off, his brow furrowing, eyes going shiny. “Sarah died. That night.” He sets the glass on the table, leans back in his chair. “She hurt her ankle, when the truck crashed, and Joel was carrying her. Found them at the bottom of a hill, fuckin’ soldier with a gun pointed right at Joel. He’d already fired at them and then I…I shot first.”

You plant your elbow on the table, cover your mouth with your hand. There are tears pouring down your cheeks, and you’re still holding Tommy’s arm. He covers your hand with his own.

“Joel was on the ground, hurt but okay, but Sarah, she…” His brow pinches, eyes wet. “Just like that, she was gone, and he…it broke him.”

Slowly, you pull your hand away from your mouth. You refill your glass, toss the entire thing back in one go. It burns like hell, but you barely notice it, wiping the tears from your face. “Tommy, where is he?”

“Gas station, maybe ten clicks outside the city. Cumberland Farms, or something like that.”

“I know it.”

He nods. “The plan was for me to come first, see if they’d let me in, figure out how easy or not it would be to get them in, since…”

“Since what?” you prompt, lifting a brow.

“We got kicked out of the last QZ we were in. Baltimore, before it fell. Tess, she—”

“Who’s Tess?”

He gives you the story; Tess Servopolous, badass extraordinaire, according to Tommy’s description. They’d joined up with her and her husband originally, but he’d been infected, and she’d been the one to put a bullet in him. Smart as hell, apparently with ideals similar to your own; Joel and Tess had been kicked out of Baltimore for smuggling, and the FEDRA soldiers in Baltimore were using exile as punishment. Tommy, refusing to leave his brother, had left of his own accord.

“So it’s just the two of them?” you ask, your brain churning, an idea already starting to form.

Tommy nods. “That’s it.”

You push back your chair, startling Tommy, who catches your arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay here,” you say, ignoring his question, grabbing a different — dry — jacket off the hook. Tommy gives you a hard look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Eat whatever you want, drink whatever you want. The bed’s not half bad.”

“Where are you going?” He gets to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “You just got here. You can’t get caught.”

“And you can?”

“I can get them in, but I have to go talk to someone first.”

“What about the curfew?” he asks. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall; almost an hour past. “Liv, don’t—”

“It’ll be okay, Tommy,” you say, trying to muster up something resembling a smile. “I promise.”

+

You’re soaked again by the time you’re tapping on Nick’s window, perched precariously on the fire escape outside. McCoy was on the overnight patrol; you’d seen him halfway between your building and Nick’s. The city is dark, night taking hold, curfew emptying the streets and lighting windows, casting shadows onto the pavement. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Nick says by way of hello, sliding the window open. You climb through immediately, shivering violently as the warmth of his apartment covers you. He tries to reach for you, but you step out of his grip, arms crossed over your chest.

“Are you working the gate tomorrow?” you ask, and he just stares at you, one brow raised. When he doesn’t answer right away, you ask again. “Nick, are you working the gate tomorrow?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “I am…why?”

“I need your help,” you say quickly, your knees knocking together as you shiver again. “I’m bringing two people through the gate tomorrow, and I need you to get them through, no matter what, no questions asked.”

Those blue eyes of his darken. “I can’t do that.”

“You can,” you insist, staring him down. “I know you can. I’ll…I’ll vouch for them, feed them with my own fucking ration cards until they can pull their own weight. They can sleep in my apartment, I don’t care. I just need them inside the QZ. Please.”

For a moment that feels like an hour, he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, deep lines on his forehead. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs. “I guess not. But you…why can’t they just go through the gate like everyone else? Doesn’t matter what I do, if they’re infected, they’re not—”

“They’re not infected,” you tell him, cutting him off. “I’m not an idiot. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what…?”

“They were kicked out of Baltimore, before it fell. Which means they’re in the system, which means any other soldier would turn them away on the spot.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “And you want me to just let them through? Why’d they get kicked out of Baltimore?” His expression changes, something like understanding, but you know before the words are out of his mouth that he’s wrong. “What kind of fucked up deal have you made, Liv?”

“I didn’t make a fucking deal,” you say, exasperation creeping into your tone. “I just…I need them inside, Nick. Please. I’ll do whatever you want me to. Throw me in lockup for a week, I don’t fucking care. Just get them inside. Please.”

After a moment, he replies. His face is a hard mask, thick arms crossed over his chest. “Not a week. Two days. You go in the moment they’re through the gate. It’ll have to be official shit, on your record, proof that you were in lockup when they were brought through. I swear to god, if they pull any shit, if anything traces back to—”

“It won’t, Nick,” you say, forcing yourself to relax, reaching out a putting a hand on his arm. “I promise.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “So says the smuggler.”

You crack a smile. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” he nods, almost rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll do it. You owe me. And you know I can’t protect you in lockup.”

“I know.”

You know you shouldn’t do it; in fact, everything in you screams in the opposite direction. But when he reaches out, grabs the zipper of your coat and hauls you close, you kiss him. It lingers, the feeling of his hands moving to your waist all too familiar, but the entire time, your mind is whirling.

Joel is alive.

+

You’re gone, as soon as the sun’s up.

Nick’s awake, pulling on his gear, as you’re doing the same, nursing the cup of good coffee he’d pushed into your hands almost the second you opened your eyes. You tried to wave it off, but he wouldn’t let you. “Drink it.”

You sink onto the edge of his bed as you tie up your boots. He’s watching you, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, tightening his belt.

“How long will you be?”

“Five hours, maybe longer.” You get to your feet. “It’s a long trek.”

His brow twitches. “I don’t like this.” Nick steps towards you, and that little voice in you, the one that had screamed when he first kissed you last night, almost has you flinching away. He reaches out, swipes his thumb over your cheek, down and over your chin. “At least tell me who they are.”

“Does it matter?” you ask, echoing yourself from last night. “They’re survivors. They deserve a safe place, right?”

He drops his hand, crosses his arms over his chest. “Right.”

“I’ll bring them through the alley,” you tell him. “Same as yesterday. Then through the empty warehouse and to the gate.”

Nick just nods.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, grabbing your jacket, and you’re gone.

You take the same path you’d used the day before, stopping at one of your caches to grab the bat from where you’d stashed it, a backpack with supplies. Your adventuring gear.

Ten miles feels like twenty. The caffeine gives you a bit more pep in your step, and you’ve always travelled faster on your own, but you haven’t felt this antsy since outbreak day. Your heart hammers with every step, the bat a heavy weight at your back, hands curled around the straps of your backpack.

Joel is alive.

It pushes your feet faster, but makes the guilt rise in your stomach just as quick. You shouldn’t have let Nick take you to bed, shouldn’t be asking him for something like this, but there’s no one else you can ask. No one else you trust. 

The Joel you find now might be a completely different one. Tommy’s words ring out in your ears, when he’d told you about Sarah, about what happened that night.

“It broke him.”

Part of you has been broken since you left Austin. Maybe there’s a glimmer of hope somewhere in here, maybe you can put each other back together, live, survive.

Maybe.

The guilt simmers thickly. You should have told Nick who it was, who you wanted brought inside. But would his answer have been the same, if you admitted it? He’s pressed a bit, over the years, asking for tidbits of your past, trying to muddle your story together. You’ve stayed tight-lipped with him, but Deanna knows exactly how much gin to give you to loosen your lips, and you have no doubt she’s passed some information along. Not that you can blame her; she loves you both, and she’s still not sold on what you’re doing with Nick. 

“You’re gonna get that boy killed one of these days,” she said one night. A job went slightly awry and you came back with a black eye, the bat caked in Infected blood, Nick half carrying you up the stairs to Deanna’s place. “You can’t keep getting him involved.”

“I know.”

You did. You do. But life is about resources, now. It’s who you know, what you have, what information you can use against someone if you need to. It’s a lethal combination, in every sense, and that’s just behind the walls, never mind what lies beyond.

You know you shouldn’t use Nick. You know you’re just going to hurt him, at the end of the day, but it was never supposed to go this far. You know he feels more than you do, and part of you still wants to feel what he feels, to give him something in return for all these years but—

Joel is alive.

Broken or not, that changes everything.

As soon as Tommy said Cumberland Farms, you knew exactly where you were going. It’s a halfway point, of sorts. You’ve done a handful of deals there, have some supplies stashed beneath the tiles. It’s long deserted, looted to shit and half boarded up, but there’s usually something interesting lurking around.

But you’re definitely not expecting what you find.

There’s a truck at one of the gas pumps, the hood popped and the battery long gone. The door is cracked open, and when you get a little closer, you see them, standing in the window.

The woman — who you assume must be Tess — stands with her back to you, light-brown hair visible through the glass. There’s an arm slung around her waist, a hand fisted in the back of her jacket, and everything in you goes still.

Joel.

He’s standing in front of her, saying something, his lips forming words you can’t discern. Your mind is blank, taking in every detail you can, rebuilding the picture of him in your mind, a combination of your memory and your vision, the differences sussing themselves out.

He looks older. There’s a bit more grey in his beard than you remember, the lines on his forehead deeper. A ratty, camel-coloured jacket, a few buttons on the flannel he’s wearing undone. Tess puts her hand on his chest, his bare skin, and when she leans in, your heart drops into your stomach, knees nearly dropping out from under you.

They’re together.

Thanks for the fucking warning, Tommy.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, tightening your grip on the bat, breathing slowly. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s alive.

Then Joel’s eyes flick up, staring straight through the glass. Straight at you.

You see it, on his lips.

“Liv?”

You’re frozen in place. The world has melted away completely. The bat falls out of your hands, the metal singing as it bounces off the pavement. He disappears from the window, Tess turning to see what he saw, and a moment later, he’s bounding through the door, bee-lining for you, nearly sprinting across the lot to where you’re standing. He’s saying your name like a prayer, over and over and over again.

He grabs you so hard your boots slide on the asphalt. The breath is knocked from your lungs, something hot and desperate making a home in your belly as he pulls you into him. You go willingly, throwing your arms around his middle as he wraps his around your shoulders. He’s solid against you, heartbeat hammering against your chest, as quick as your own. The scent of him is slightly different, more earthy, almost darker, but it’s still Joel.

He pulls back after a moment, holding you at arm’s length, one hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes raking over every inch of you. “You’re alive,” he breathes out, a surprised laugh in his tone, and you just nod, the words refusing to leap off your tongue. Joel hugs you back against him. “You’re alive.”

You just nod, tears filling your eyes, holding him close, holding the back of his jacket in an iron grip. Please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me—

Joel pulls back again, his brow pinched, confusion in his eyes. “How did you—”

“Tommy,” you answer quickly, moving your grip to his bicep as his grip your shoulders. “He’s in Boston, in the QZ. I left him at my place; I didn’t wanna take any chances.”

“He made it?” Joel asks, and you nod.

“Joel,” you say, your voice low, feeling a tear slip down your cheek as you say it. God, his name feels strange on your tongue. When was the last time you said it out loud? You squeeze his arm. “Tommy told me…” You pause, breathe deep. “About Sarah. Joel, I’m so sorry, I just—”

You regret the words, the second they’re out of your mouth.

It’s like a flip has been switched. He drops his hands, and his expression goes with them. You watch the mask fall into place, hard and unreadable, shutting you out in an instant. There’s suddenly three feet of space between you, and he turns away as Tess walks out of the gas station, calling his name.

“What’s going on?” she asks, confusion on her face, coming to a stop beside Joel. She juts her chin towards you. “Who’s this?”

“She’s…” Joel starts, but loses the words. He looks at you again, something you barely recognize in his eyes. Again, he turns away, hands on his hips, his back to you.

“I’m Liv,” you offer, holding your hand towards Tess. She stares at it for a second before taking it. “You must be Tess.”

“I am.”

“Tommy sent me,” you say, and that seems to soften her slightly. She’s pretty; big green eyes, pouty lips, tall, and she looks every bit the badass Tommy had described. “I’m an old friend.”

Her gaze slides to Joel, who has distanced himself further, putting even more space between you. Tess, thankfully, doesn’t do the same. “I gathered that.”

You push your tongue against your teeth, resisting the urge to yell at Joel. Why did you have to say it? Why couldn’t you have waited, maybe? At least got them into the QZ before you shattered whatever was still tethering you two together.

“How do you know each other?” Tess asks.

You search for the words. Do you give the truth, right off the bat? Has Joel ever mentioned you to her? Why did you have to say it? “It’s a long story,” you finally manage, eyes snagging on Joel’s back. The guilt you’d already felt over Nick has tripled, a solid lead weight in your stomach. “Doesn’t matter. We should get going.” Tess opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a hand. “Tommy told me about Baltimore. It’s fine, I took care of it; you’ll get in, no problem.”

Joel whirls then, his eyes bright, jaw set. He’s angry. You almost flinch. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly, your brows pulling down. Some fucking reunion. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What did you—” he starts again, taking another step, but Tess’s hand flashes out, smacking him in the chest, and he freezes.

“Relax, would you?” she nearly sneers, and you raise a brow. “She’s helping us.”

Joel stares at you. Long and hard, those dark eyes impossibly darker, making a chill snake down your spine. You barely recognize him. It doesn’t matter, you try to convince yourself, bending to pick up the bat. He’s alive, that’s all that matters. You knew things wouldn’t be the same. Things couldn’t be the same.

You look away from him, feeling his gaze follow you as you turn on your heel, heading back towards the road.

“Let’s go.”

PREV | NEXT

[besttropeveershowdown]

The SECOND Best Trope Ever Showdown: Round 1, Side B, Poll 2

Future Badass

A loser in the present day becomes a badass in the future.

Propaganda:

I really like characters who are kind of weak or at least underestimated who we get to see grow and become formidable in their own right, and I like reunion-style interactions where two characters who haven't seen each other for a while for whatever reason get to meet again and we see their reactions to how the other has changed. This lets you not only have characters react to someone they know having grown and changed so much in the future, but lets you potentially have a character react to *themselves* having changed in such a way, and reflect on that

Tomato in the Mirror

A character learns that something about their identity is different than what they thought.

Propaganda:

I do love a *well executed* twist, and when it gets pulled off, I think a TITM twist is one of the coolest ones you can do. I think there's something particularly hard-hitting about following a character as they uncover not only a striking truth, but a striking truth about *themself* that can totally upend how they and we view events. Especially cool when it's something along the lines of, the very thing a character was trying to discover/stop/etc turns out to be them (or at least connected to them).

[wsdanon]

okay a little thing of Matt and Felps when they met before arkanis \o/!! my god this is a lot of headcanon and extrapolation, but I had fun with it. for the sake of keeping some of the theme of the original vod, I’m considering “the nether” and “hell” to be two different dimensions

hope you enjoy, reblogs appreciated \o/!!

It’s night. Felps isn’t sure what Luis is off doing, but Matt is sitting on the middle bed and staring up at him. And Felps would be sitting, too, except the roof height really wasn’t made with a bunk bed in mind. So, he’s laying on his side kind of diagonally so he can stare down at Matt. 

“Earlier you mentioned the name Guaxinim?” Felps prompts. 

“Ah, yeah.” Matt smiles. “It’s a strange name, isn’t it?”

“It’s a unique name.” Felps agrees. 

Is it the same Guaxinim? Felps supposes it doesn’t really matter. Despite their mutual contact of Cell, they never interacted much. And if Guaxinim didn’t seem all that bothered with Cell, he’s probably not too bothered about Felps, either. 

“He was nice.” Matt says. “He should be coming back in a few weeks, I think?” 

Felps will probably be gone in a few weeks. Shame. Could’ve been an interesting reunion, especially since he’s not too sure Guaxi knows he survived. 

“I might miss him.” Felps admits, shrugging  with the side of his body that isn’t trapped against the mattress. “It shouldn’t take too long to get you to the nether, you know?”

“You’re not sticking around?” And he actually sounds disappointed. 

“Maybe for a little bit.” Felps concedes. “Just enough to help you explore a bit—teaching you how to survive there would be a good idea, I think.” 

“For a little longer than that?” Matt tries, looking pitifully up at him.

It almost makes Felps want to stay. Almost. 

“I have people to get back to.” 

The back and forth is hazy, but he’s not so sure they’ll appreciate him being gone for this long. If they even remember him by the time he gets back.

“Okay…” Matt sighs. “I guess that’s fair.”

And Matt looks away from him. Just briefly. But it’s almost like his eyes get dragged back to locking in on Felps. Like he can’t help himself. 

“Stop it, man—stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” Matt’s confused, but he puts a smile on, anyway. Brings one knee up to hug it against his chest so he can lean his chin on it. He stares up at Felps, eyes piercing through him. “Like this?”

It’s so much worse than with Bad. He thinks. It’s hazy, okay? But it’s like Bad tries to ignore what they both are. Matt doesn’t. 

“Matt.” He chastises. “You’re shameless.” 

“You should meet Guaxinim.” Matt says with a laugh. 

And Felps has to bite back that he has, probably. 

“Do you really like looking at me that much, man?” 

And it’s different to Bad, too, because Matt looks at him with awe. The acknowledgment by itself he thinks he could handle, but the awe? It’s a strange feeling to get from a person who’s very presence near him makes him feel itchy inside. 

“I’ve never met a saint before!” Matt says defensively. “You’re different to a normal human, you know? You have this pretty glow around you.”

“I’m dead.” It slips from his lips blunter than he usually lets it. “I’m not a normal human because I’m dead.”

“No you’re not.” Matt argues, like Felps is just joking with him. Like this is just another case of Felps lying for fun. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Now it’s Felps’ turn to scoff. 

“No you can’t.”

“Well, how do you know?” Matt grins wickedly—although on him it just looks playful. Cute. “What do you know about demons?”

And, well… it’s hazy. Everything from when he’s “awake” is hazy. As far as he’s aware him and Bad never talked about demon physiology, though. 

“More than you’d think.” Felps says, unwilling to admit he doesn’t know for sure. 

“Why don’t you come down here and prove to me you don’t have a heartbeat, then, hm?” Matt suggests.

Except Felps can’t. Because he does have one. 

It’s… still a little weird. It’s been so many years since he woke up feeling wrong, and yet… He’s mostly gotten used to it, but sometimes even now he wakes up and the heartbeat startles him. 

“I never said I didn’t have a heartbeat. I just said I was dead.” 

“Ah, man, c’mon.” Matt complains. “You have a heartbeat, you move around—you seem pretty alive to me, you know?”

And he’s not going to have this spiral in front of Matt of all people. That’s reserved for himself, and the many other fractured states of himself.

“I guess.” He turns to lie on his back. He keeps his voice carefully even as he continues with, “you must not know very much about saints.”

“Maybe not.” Matt admits. And Felps feels that presence get closer. When he looks, Matt has his arms folded on Felps’ mattress, his head resting on them. “Maybe you could teach me. And I could teach you about demons.”

And the problem is, he looks earnest. There’s light flirtation there, sure, but mostly he just seems earnest.

“Ah, man—I’m already taking you to the nether.” Felps huffs out, letting his voice pitch up with the complaint. “Isn’t that enough?”

An easy, joking deflection. Obviously a deflection, of course, but a casual enough one to not ruin the mood. At least Matt knows when to drop it. 

“That’s true, that’s true.” He says, stepping back. “I suppose we have a big day ahead of ourselves, right?” 

“We do.”

“I’ll let you sleep, then.” He sends Felps a light smile—much more friendly, much less teasing, genuine all the same. “Goodnight, sleep well.”

“Sleep well.” 

Felps listens as Matt climbs into bed and crawls under the covers. Listens as Matt gets himself settled. 

Felps lays on his back. And breathes. And tries to remind himself it’s good that he can do that—that he has a heartbeat, and a second-third-fourth-fifth chance. 

He can’t sleep. Luis isn’t back yet. He’s not sure if Matt is still awake or not. 

“Matt?” He calls out quietly. 

Silence—then after a moment, “Hm?” 

Not asleep. But sounds sleepy. 

“I’m not a very good saint.” He confesses. 

“That’s okay.” 

And, yes—definitely sleepy. He sounds barely awake. Maybe he’ll do Felps a favour and forget this part of the conversation in the morning. 

“You don’t need to be good.” Matt continues, voice light. “You’re good to me.”

And Felps isn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Goodnight.” He says instead. 

“‘Night.”

He doesn’t sleep.

——

hope you enjoyed \o/!! will post on ao3 later…

It’s kind of messy, and I can’t remember how much of these headcanons I’ve made public or I’ve just kept in my head, but I like the idea

fun facts: when Felps first joined the world he got Matt to follow a trail made out of his head. he was also in creative which is why I like to say Matt could pick up on the saint thing straight away (since Matt directly called him “Saint Felps” when he flew up into the air pfft)

other fun facts: Felps did make himself a bunk bed on top of Matt’s original bed but didn’t give himself enough room to stand up on it so he takes damage every time he wakes up. Speaking of damage: there’s a moment where Felps let Matt shoot him while he was teaching him how to use a bow and arrow

Guaxinim and Felps didn’t overlap as far as I’m aware, but they did mention Guaxinim around Felps. I don’t actually know if Guaxinim comes back, but I decided to make it so he would so he could pass on the knowledge of Valigma to Matt

\o/!!

[batbitesthebat]

Quick frankenkwazii question:

Okay so I know that with something like this, you of course have to bend the rules of reality (I mean. The Octonauts itself isn’t much better.) But since you’ve decided to take a more realistic approach to this kind of AU than I normally see, I wanna ask: How does Kwazii’s body actually still function? Albeit barely. Like, is there some other kind of supernatural thing at play or is it just that he’s built different?

(Sorry if this is confusing 😭)

Hi, thanks for the question xddddddd!1! There aren't any supernatural elements at play here, his revival itself is, what I'd say, the unrealistic, unnatural stuff. So my answer is that he's built different lol. Well I think more of it like this:

His revival and survival are the fictional, nonsensical elements. But how do I push it to make it as realistic as possible? How can I work around a relatively cartoony concept (except for me taking the liberty of giving him the element of his limbs having the ability to fall off and be stitched back together again)

Because I wanted the frankenstein AU to be horror-oriented rather than a bittersweet reunion story or something to the like, I decided that the horror would be best-rooted in realism. I think the concept of rotting away alive and being unable to do anything about it would be way more horrific than if he was like, you know, a more fiction-oriented monster. His functioning can only be possible with a ton of daily physical support, and even then he still cannot do basic things like go out on missions, eat solid foods, or walk for a long amount of time. His body is working incredibly hard to keep him alive to the point of exhausting itself, which is why he sleeps for twelve hours a day instead of our usual eight- he needs constant nutrition, constant supervision, and to constantly expel waste in any way he could. These factors all help him stay alive but even then I wouldn't consider him functioning, he is barely like you said, but he struggles with his executive function due to damage to his prefrontal cortex, so he has problems with taking care of himself as well, even though he strives for independence. And with his declining mental and physical state, though he might be barely functioning now, who's to say that this is going to last any longer?