#let me know if I stole something of yours

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[melminli]

Could you store something with jun-hee (player 222) x f!reader plz🙏

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

summary - it may sound a bit cliché, but you were in love with your best friend. even though you always wanted to tell her, you strongly doubted that she could use your love - you didn't know that she thought the same. you two were really stupid, huh?

pairing: kim jun-hee x fem. reader

word count: 1.1k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, arguing, fluff, pre squid game au, hidden feelings

a/n: i went to a cas concert a few months ago and it was insane. this was the song that just stuck with me since then and i thought about her when i listened to it again after watching the show! hope u like it ;p

"Oh man, they forgot our spring rolls." you realized disappointed after you went through each package of food one by one until there was nothing left but napkins in the bag. You looked at your best friend as you said. "Should I go to the store and get them? I know how much you like them, and I think the owner likes me, who knows, maybe we'll get an extra portion or something, huh?"

Jun-hee just shook her head with a gentle smile on her face. "That's all right. I want to eat with you and by the time you come back, the food will be all cold and mushy." she said, reaching for the chopsticks after opening her box of fried noodles.

You sat down on the opposite chair of your little dining table in your small kitchen. "I guess, I can't argue with that." you gave in and reached for a spoon to mix your fried rice a little.

You had turned on the radio a while ago and the music it was playing accompanied the pleasant silence between the two of you. You could hardly stop yourself from thinking about how homely this all felt right now with her, as you often did in the last few days. It was sudden and you were definitely caught off guard when Jun-hee suddenly appeared at your doorstep with a packed bag in tow. You didn't know exactly what happened, but you didn't need to because you could imagine that it probably had something to do with her parents or something - it didn't matter. She would tell you when she was ready.

"I heard that this one popular show is getting a second season soon, you know..." you started to tell her and then tried to think of the title when you suddenly heard a soft howl. You immediately stood up when you saw Jun-hee sitting huddled up with her arms covering her face. "Hey, what's wrong..." you asked worriedly, not used to such an emotional reaction from her since she was usually such a collected person. This was a very rare occurrence.

She interrupted you before you could say anything else. "I'm pregnant!" she cried out, feeling the lingering guilt inside her finally take over her entire mind as she uttered those words. A few minutes passed with you just holding her like that and Jun-hee clung tightly to you, sobbing. She was worried that you might let her go - in fact, she expected you to, which is why she didn't tell you for so long.

I can't blame her for anything, I really am the worst. She thought to herself when she still couldn't bring herself to let go. No matter how selfish it might be of her.

"Is it from that Mingyu guy?" you finally asked her and she nodded vaguely, but it was enough for you to understand. Jun-hee didn't even bother to correct you when you said his name wrong.

You just sighed and even if you didn't say it out loud, she could feel how angry you were with her - how disappointed. "You're mad at me," she stated while you continued to stroke her back reassuringly, even when the position you were holding her in was a little uncomfortable for you. "Of course I am, the guy's an asshole and you're only in your early twenties," you answered her honestly, comforting her with your own broken heart. "Does he even know? Last I heard, all his fans were sending him death threats because he stole their money or something."

She didn't even want to think about it. "He's not answering my calls and I have no idea where he is."

You let out another heavy sigh. "You're really stupid sweetie, I knew that guy was like this from the beginning, really," you spoke up before looking confusedly at Jun-hee after she lifted her head from your chest and met your gaze with a furrowed brow. "Can you stop rubbing it in my face? I already know that I fucked up!" she exclaimed, completely exhausted as she continued to rub her reddened eyes.

So she wants to keep the baby, her parents probably kicked her out as soon as they found out. You massaged your forehead, exhausted. "So, what now?" you just asked her, elaborating on your question when she looked at you with a confused look. You just wanted to kiss her right now and tell her that everything would be okay again and at the same time, you wanted to smash your head through a wall and cry. "What are you going to do now with a baby on the way? Do you have a plan for how you're going to look after it?"

I don't have a job or any money. I don't know what to do. She didn't answer you right away and just avoided your gaze, embarrassed, so you reached for her hand to get her attention. "If you don't know what to do and you want me to help you, then you have to tell me," you finally said and you were probably the stupid one this time.

Jun-hee looked at you in surprise and took a few seconds to really understand what you meant. "Are you sure? You don't have to do something like that for me..."

You interrupted her relatively quickly. "I want to do this for you because -" and your love confession was almost half hanging from your lips when you stopped yourself from saying it out loud in the last second. What am I doing? This is completely the wrong time for this. "- because you can always count on me, even if no one else does."

Oh, that's right. Jun-hee thought to herself as she held her pounding heart and smiled a little forcedly. I thought she was going to say something else, how stupid of me I mean you're pregnant with another man's child right now Jun-hee, wake up. She brought herself back down to earth. You already gave her more than enough. "Please, help me."

You spread your arms out again to catch her in a hug. "We'll work it out, don't worry..." you tried to reassure her further, any unspoken feelings remaining as you both made the decision to keep them a secret.

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (5)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (4)

How to cure a grump masterlist

On Christmas Eve, the room is crowded with family, friends, neighbors, and, well, your former boss. He still sticks out with his expensive suit, polished shoes, and his whole aura.

Oddly, people like to chat with him. Bucky is a natural when it comes to wrapping people around his finger.

You can’t do much about it tonight. If you yell at him, drag him out of the room, or, what you love to imagine, choke the life out of him for being a jerk, people could get suspicious.

Smiling at the thought, you hide in a corner, watching Bucky joke with the people who do not know what an asshole he truly is.

You grit your teeth and huff. It was foolish of them to judge the book by its cover this time. Yes, he’s got a pretty façade, but deep down inside, Bucky Barnes is rotten. You’re sure about it.

“Why the face?” Your mother nudges your side. “People love him, Munchkin. No need to worry. We all hated John from the beginning, and he turned out a jerk. Trust our instinct.”

Bucky looks your way, watching you when you’re not looking. He can still feel your lips and wonder what came over him. Not two days ago, you were nothing but an employee to him, and then he kissed you.

“Man, you dismantled Walker like a pro,” your cousin laughs and shakes Bucky’s hand. “About damn time someone put him in his place. I’d done the same, but Y/N didn’t want me to say a thing. She told me to let it slip and moved across the country instead.”

“So, I heard,” Bucky hums. “Y/M/N told me they had a business together. A company?”

“Uh—they wanted to open a business together. John not only cheated on her but also stole her idea. She’s so smart and wastes her time at the office. I heard her boss is a jerk too, letting her work overtime and do her colleague’s work.”

“He must be an asshole,” Bucky replies with a smirk. He loves hearing all the insults your cousin calls your boss. “Did she tell you all about him?”

“No. Y/N never complains. She only said she’d take the next flight because she had to stay later this week too. Y/N was always too good for this world. Helped everyone around, you know,” your cousin brags. “I just know she offers her help to co-workers, and they tried to take advantage of her kindness.”

“I think Y/N is capable of putting people in their place too,” Bucky replies. He appreciates that your cousin tries to defend you but knows you better. “No one takes advantage of her.”

Your cousin grins before patting Bucky’s shoulder. “I already like you.” He chortles. “Oh, I gotta take care of my girl now.”

Bucky nods, as his eyes drift toward you again. Ever so often his mind drifts back to the moment he kissed you.

“You’re staring,” your aunt chuckles, catching Bucky staring at you. “I know you’re head over heels for my niece, but don’t undress her with your eyes while being around her family.”

“What?” Bucky dips his head to glance at your aunt.

She chuckles again and pats his arm. “Aw, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I know Y/N is lovely.”

Bucky furrows his brows. All he did was look your way. Why your aunt thinks he had something dirty in mind is beyond him.

“Phew...that was…nice,” Bucky says as you watch your mom say goodbye to the last guest, your aunt. “Do you always host a Christmas party for the neighbors and half of town?”

“Most of our neighbors would be alone on Christmas Eve, just like my mom. They are long divorced, widowed, and their kids don’t come around before or after Christmas,” you explain while Bucky watches you. “And family is family, you know. They all have their own family and will spend the rest of Christmas and New Year’s Eve with them.”

He nods thoughtfully and says, “I guess you’re better at opening your home for people. My parents only ever hosted Christmas parties for business partners.”

“Figures,” you bite your tongue and curse yourself for your response. “I meant it’s smart to invite business partners for Christmas. They feel valued that way.”

Bucky quirks a brow but says nothing. He’ll let it slip, knowing you’re not wrong.

“Anyway,” he fakes a yawn. “It was a long day, and I need to call Steve in the morning. He needs to take care of a few things while I’m stuck here.”

“And whose fault is that?” You huff. Bucky still tries to blame you for his friend’s mistake. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Yours,” he grins. “You made me come out here.”

“It was your friend not telling you about our conversation.”

“Relax,” he laughs. “I know it was Steve messing shit up, okay. You’re not to blame.” Bucky got up from the couch, just in time to bid your mom goodnight.

She furrows her brows as your former boss makes his way upstairs.

“Munchkin, don’t you want to join him?” She snickers when you roll your eyes. “I know you did more than cuddle. You’re a grown woman and have needs. I understand, Y/N. With a man like James around, a woman can get all tingly.”

“Mom!” You groan. “It’s not like that.”

“I know love is tough. How about we call it a day, and you can go back to denying you don’t like the handsome man sleeping under my roof? She flashes you a warm smile before pulling you into a hug. “Maybe he’s a little snobby on the outside, but I think James has a good heart. He’s just not used to showing it…”

Once again, you toss and turn. Your mother’s words still echo in your mind, and your lips still tingle from Bucky’s kiss.

“Christ, get over it. It was one fucking kiss,” you groan and slam your fist into the mattress. “It wasn’t even that good. Even if he tasted good and his lips perfectly fit with yours. Stupid... just stupid. He’s an asshole who fired you two days before Christmas.”

You turn on your side and decide to sleep it off. Soon Bucky will be out of town and out of your life. When he’s gone, you can try to explain to your mother who he is…

“Hmmm…” you murmur in your sleep. Somehow, you’re warm, very warm. It feels like a heating blanket wrapped itself around your body to keep you warm—or rather hot. “Fuck…warm.”

Wiggling in your sleep, you try to fend the heat off. You groan and shift again as it’s too heavy. “Warm…” Your eyes slowly open as you try to turn in your bed. It’s impossible. Something, or rather someone, wrapped himself around your body. “What the fuck!”

“What? Where?” Bucky jolts up on your bed. He looks at you lying next to him. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“What am I doing in your bed?” You sit up and huff. “This is my room and my bed. Get out! This is not some case of only one bed!”

“I—” he looks around the room, frowning deeply. Bucky ruffles his disheveled hair, trying to remember how he ended up in your bed. “Did we—?” He looks you up and down, licking his lips.

“What? NO!” You slap his chest, realizing too late he’s not wearing a shirt. “We didn’t have sex! Did you drink yourself to sleep?”

“Maybe I got a little drunk,” he murmurs and falls back onto your bed. Just now you smell the alcohol on him. “I was so lonely, and Steve ignored my calls. He fucked my vacation up, and now I’m stuck here and can’t even—”

You watch him turn on his side. “Hey, go back to your room.” You poke his back, but Bucky won’t budge. “What did I do to deserve this?”

You sigh and fall back on your pillow. There’s no way you can move Bucky. Turning your back on Bucky, you huff. “If your hands wander, you’ll lose them…”

Tags in reblog.

[greengoblinswifey]

New Year’s Gift—Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas spends New Year’s Eve with you, and after a night of celebration and teasing intimacy, you have your way with each other back at your parents’ house.

warnings— sub!nicholas, lap dance, praise kink, choking, nipple play, oral(m&f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— happy new year my babies <3

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing at a rooftop bar in your city, the skyline glittering behind you as music pulsed through the air. You were perched on Nicholas’ lap in one of the lounge areas, his arm draped casually around your waist, holding you close. His fingers absently traced the curve of your hip as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

“You’ve told me that like a hundred times tonight,” you teased, twisting slightly to face him.

“Well, you do,” he said with a shy grin, his cheeks flushing. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “You know, this is gonna be my first New Year’s kiss.”

You raised a brow, feigning surprise. “No way. Not even a random one in a frat house or something?”

He shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Nope. Never. Guess I was waiting for the right girl.”

Your teasing smirk softened into a grin. “Well, aren’t you lucky? You’ve got me now.”

The night passed in a haze of laughter, music, and drinks. Your friends cheered you on as you joined the dance floor, swaying to the rhythm, but Nicholas stayed behind, his eyes following you like you were the only one in the crowded room.

When you returned to him, the bass thumping in your chest, you slid onto his lap, giving him a lap dance and letting your ass bounce on him with the beat. Your friends hollered from across the lounge.

“Yes bitch!” one of them called drunkenly.

Nicholas groaned softly, his hands resting on your waist to steady you. “You’re gonna make it real hard for me to behave in front of your friends, you know that?”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. "Who said I wanted you to behave?"

The countdown approached, and you were both on your feet, standing close as the crowd surged around you. Nicholas pulled you to him, his hands framing your face as the crowd began shouting.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Ready?” you asked.

“More than ready,” he replied, his eyes locked on yours.

“Three! Two! One!”

Cheers erupted as fireworks lit up the night sky, but Nicholas didn’t seem to notice anything but you. He cupped your face, tilting your head back as he kissed you with a passion that stole your breath. The crowd faded away as his lips moved against yours, his touch firm yet tender. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “Cheers to many more New Year’s together.”

“Many more,” you echoed.

As the party began to wind down, Nicholas slipped his hand into yours. “Ready to head home?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You grinned, leaning in to whisper, “I’ve got that gift for you waiting.”

His brows arched, a curious smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

You let your hand trail briefly over his bulge that was hard from the kiss, smirking when you felt him tense. “You’ll see,” you said coyly, walking ahead, leaving him flushed and eager to follow.

The two of you stumbled into the entryway of your parents’ house, the warmth of the evening still buzzing through your veins. His lips were on yours before you even had the chance to hang up your coat, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. His kisses were unhurried but intense, each one deepening as his hands roamed up and down your ass.

You let out a small laugh, breathless as you broke away for a second. “Careful, Nick, my mom’s vase is right there,” you warned, glancing nervously at the antique piece on the entry table.

Nicholas blinked, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Noted,” he said, stealing another quick kiss. “We don’t want her to whoop both our asses, right?”

“Exactly, you’re learning,” you teased, grabbing his hand and carefully leading him up the stairs.

The moment you closed your bedroom door behind you, he was on you again, his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you senseless. His usual shy demeanor melted away in the dim light, replaced with something desperate and eager.

But two could play at that game. You gave him a little push, and he stumbled back against the wall, his wide eyes blinking at you in surprise. “W-what are you doing?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

You smirked, stepping closer until your hands were on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat. “Something I know you’ll like,” you murmured.

Before he could respond, you sank to your knees, your hands trailing down his sides as his breath hitched.

“Wait, are you—” Nicholas started, but his words caught in his throat when you looked up at him, your eyes glinting with lust.

“Relax,” you said softly, running your palms over his thighs. “I’ve got you.”

His hands fluttered at his sides before one settled on the back of your head as you freed his heavy, hard cock, his touch hesitant but full of trust. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice strained, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

You grinned up at him, taking your time, reveling in how utterly undone he was by you taking him down your throat. His head fell back against the wall, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as your tongue glided along his long shaft, your movements teasing. You stroked the base as you took him in half way, bobbing your head slowly but steadily while you slid your tongue on him.

“God,” he whispered, his free hand gripping the wall behind him as his knees wavered. “You’re too good at this.”

You smiled around his cock and looked up at him, his trembling figure making your head swoon. Your hands went to his balls, gently kneading them as you took him in the back of your throat, bobbing your head faster. Every soft moan and shiver from him made you take him even deeper, gagging on his cock and getting it sloppy just the way you knew he liked it. You titled your head, sucking his balls, licking the base of his cock then back to his balls as he whimpered under your touch.

“J-just like that baby, you’re doing amazing,” he whimpered, fingers tangling in your hair.

You allowed him to guide you on it, deep throating him as pre cum and saliva dripped onto your tits and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. No matter how much you gagged, you took him down your throat, keeping him there as your lust blown eyes stared up at him shaking and practically losing himself.

“Oh God, I’m gonna cum baby. Please let me cum in your mouth,” he whimpered, his head falling back against the wall.

You chuckled softly, your own heartbeat racing as you deep throated his cock and stroked the base and his balls as they twitched in anticipation. His quiet murmurs of your name mixed with breathless praises only fueled your confidence as his load shot down your throat, and the way he looked down at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made your head spin.

When his knees finally gave a subtle shake, you pulled him out of your mouth with a loud pop, rising to your feet with a smile. “Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”

Nicholas laughed, breathless and thoroughly flustered. He pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re seriously gonna be the death of me, now let me return the favor,” he repeated, his breath shaky.

Before you could protest, he swept you into his arms and carried you over to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart flutter. He hovered over you for a moment, his eyes tracing every inch of your face.

“Nick,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Let me take care of you.”

He began a slow descent, his kisses trailing from your lips to your jawline, down the curve of your neck, taking off your blouse and moving lower still. Each press of his lips on your skin sent shivers through your body.

When he reached his destination, he looked up at you with a smirk, his fingers lightly grazing your clit. “You have no idea how much I love eating your pussy,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, he dipped his head, his actions making you gasp. He worked with a kind of precision that left your head spinning, his tongue gliding along your slit both gentle and hungry.

“God, you taste so good,” he murmured against you. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued. His tongue explored you with precision, flicking and slurping you as your entire body shook.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as your soft praises filled the room. “Nick, baby, that feels so good,” you managed, your voice shaky.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through your body. “Yeah? Just relax for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone soothing. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

He did exactly what he said. He showed you how much he loved you, practically making love to your pussy. He ravished you, burying his face deep in your core, smearing your juices all over his face. His mouth engulfed you, sucking as you writhed underneath him. His tongue slipped inside your hole, coaxing soft moans out of you then licking back up to your clit and flicking it before placing soft kisses all over it.

Each praise, each flick of his tongue, sent you spiraling further, and when your moans grew louder again, he looked up briefly, his lips glistening with a smug grin. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “Cum for me. Be my good girl.”

You felt like you were floating, your mind lost to the way he worshipped you. Every kiss on your clit, every movement, was filled with a devotion that left no room for doubt. You cried out, your hands tugging his hair as your release shot through you and you squirted all over his face. When he finally pulled back, his lips curved into a satisfied smile as he leaned over you, brushing your damp hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Breathless and utterly disarmed, you let out a soft laugh. “And you eat my pussy so good, baby” you replied.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you once more. “What can I say? I aim to please.”

You guided him to sit back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling. His hands rested on your waist as you straddled him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. The intimacy in his gaze sent a shiver through you, making your heart race.

“You want me to ride you baby? Are you sure you want to do this? Just wanna make sure.” you said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice low and steady. “Always. Especially with you.”

As you sank down onto his hard, thick cock, his head tipped back, exposing his throat, and a deep moan escaped his lips. His hands roamed your sides and waist, holding you as if you would slip away from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

His praise sent a rush of heat through you, and you leaned into him, your hands trailing up his chest before finding their way to his neck. You tilted his head to meet your eyes. “And you’re so good for me,” you whispered, your voice dripping with affection. “My good boy.”

A low noise escaped him, and his hands gripped your waist even tighter. “You have no idea what that does to me,” he muttered, his words edged with desperation.

You smiled, running your thumbs over his jaw. “Oh, I know,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing his with deliberate slowness. “I can feel it.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched as you bounced on his cock, your body fitting together perfectly. His hands found their way to your chest, sliding to your tits, his fingers pinching your nipples. Your pussy rose and fell on him, each time you came down he practically hit your cervix.

“You’re so big,” you murmured against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair. His response came in the form of a shudder, his lips parting with a soft moan.

“God,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You make me crazy.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as your fingers trailed down his chest. “Good,” you said softly. “I want to drive you crazy. You’re mine, Nick.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark but tender. “Yours,” he repeated.

His hands began groping your tits and you bit your lips looking down at him all needy for you. Cock big and throbbing inside you, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks red and eyes full of need. You absolutely loved having him at your mercy and it was going to continue into the new year. Each time you bounced on his cock, your jiggled and he replaced his hands on them with his mouth, swirling his tongue over your nipples as your pussy glided up and down his cock. You reached down, rubbing your clit fast and clenching around him, the action making him perch right on the edge.

“Clenching around me so tight, I love your pussy baby. M’gonna cum, please cum with me baby. Cum with me while I cum inside your pussy,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

His praise awoke something feral inside you, and your bounces grew faster and full of emotion. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your rhythm as his lips found your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you shiver.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “You feel so good, baby. I’m about to—.”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of it all as your pussy soaked his cock and he filled you up. Your hands stayed on him, his chest, his neck, his shoulders, pulling him closer inside you.

When you finally stilled, breathless and glowing, Nicholas pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his hands tracing lazy patterns on your back.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your voice soft but certain, resting your forehead against his.

Nicholas chuckled, brushing his lips against yours once more. “Always.”

[kissyforkoo]

Ruin Me Softly - l. h.

pairing: heeseung x reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: smut

Wrote this while listening to “Be my Baby” by Ari

Y/N pushed open the heavy oak door of the dimly lit bar. A wave of warmth greeted her, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the rhythm of music that pulsed softly in the background. The faint scent of bourbon and cedarwood lingered in the air. She wasn’t here by accident she came for him.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Heeseung. His broad shoulders leaned against the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He exuded effortless confidence, his posture relaxed but undeniably commanding. When he glanced up and saw her, his gaze sharpened, and a slow, knowing smirk crept across his face.

“Y/N,” he greeted smoothly as she slid onto the stool beside him. His voice, deep and velvety, sent shivers dancing up her spine. “Didn’t think you’d show tonight.”

“I like to keep you guessing,” she replied, meeting his smirk with one of her own. There was a challenge in her tone, one that made his dark eyes flicker with intrigue.

He raised his glass toward her. “You’ve got my full attention.”

────୨ৎ────

Y/N’s fingers traced the rim of her glass as she eyed Heeseung across the table. The air between them was heavy with anticipation, a silent tug-of-war neither was willing to lose.

“Do you always stare at people like that?” she teased, breaking the silence.

He smirked, his dark eyes locking with hers. “Only when they’re worth staring at.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, the movement deliberate. “You must say that to all the girls.”

“I don’t,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of intensity that sent a shiver up her spine. “And you know it.”

She hated how easily he got under her skin, how his confidence wasn’t the kind that tried too hard—it was natural, like he knew exactly who he was. She couldn’t help but push back. “So, what’s your game, Heeseung?”

“No game,” he said, leaning in slightly. His proximity made her pulse quicken. “I just know what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

Heeseung’s eyes flicked to her lips for just a second before returning to her gaze. “You.”

The word hung in the air, bold and unrelenting. It wasn’t the first time someone had said something like that to her, but with Heeseung, it felt different. There was no pretense, no empty charm—it was raw, unfiltered.

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

His lips twitched into a grin, his confidence unwavering. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her heart raced as he reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. The touch was subtle, almost accidental, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through her. She didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

“Careful, Heeseung,” she murmured, her voice teasing. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb now tracing the back of her hand. “I’m counting on it.”

By the time they left the bar, the tension between them was unbearable. Every step they took side by side felt like a countdown to something inevitable.

────୨ৎ────

The door barely clicked shut before Heeseung’s hands were on her, sliding around her waist to pull her flush against him. His lips descended on hers, hot and insistent, capturing her in a kiss that stole her breath. She responded with equal intensity, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if anchoring herself against the storm he was unleashing inside her.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as he panted softly. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Y/N?”

Her lips curled into a teasing smirk as she tilted her head up to brush her mouth against his, barely a whisper of contact. “Show me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and his lips were on her neck, tracing a searing path down to her collarbone. She gasped as his teeth grazed her skin, his tongue soothing the mark he left behind.

“Heeseung,” she breathed, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging slightly.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating against her throat. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He carried her to the bedroom, dropping her onto the bed with a controlled force that sent a thrill racing through her. He followed immediately, his body hovering over hers as his dark eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice reverent as his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt.

Her breath hitched as he pushed the fabric up, exposing her skin inch by inch. When the shirt was finally gone, his lips were on her again, his hands following the curve of her waist before settling on her hips.

“Touch me,” she whispered, the plea barely audible.

He smirked, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. “Patience, baby. I want to take my time with you.”

She bit her lip, the anticipation driving her mad as he slid her shorts and underwear down her legs in one smooth motion. His hands were everywhere—caressing, teasing, setting her skin on fire.

When his lips trailed lower, her legs instinctively parted for him, a soft moan escaping her as his mouth explored her most sensitive places. He took his time, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to unravel her.

“You taste like heaven,” he muttered against her, his voice sending vibrations through her that left her trembling.

Her hands gripped the sheets, her head thrown back as waves of pleasure washed over her. Heeseung’s name spilled from her lips, a breathless chant that seemed to spur him on. He didn’t stop until she was gasping, her body arching off the bed as she shattered under his touch.

He climbed back up, his lips finding hers again. The kiss was slower this time, filled with an intimacy that made her heart ache. She reached between them, her fingers brushing against the bulge straining in his jeans.

“Your turn,” she whispered, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

He let out a shaky breath as she pushed him onto his back, straddling him. Her hands made quick work of his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers down to free him. He hissed at the contact, his head falling back against the pillows as her hand wrapped around him.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she moved her hand in slow, deliberate strokes.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re so sensitive,” she teased, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Only for you,” he replied, his voice strained as he struggled to maintain control.

When she finally sank onto him, they both gasped at the sensation. Heeseung’s hands gripped her hips tightly as she began to move, setting a rhythm that had them both teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers.

The way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered made her heart race even faster. She leaned down to kiss him, their movements growing more frantic as they chased their release together.

When it finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing over them and leaving them breathless and trembling in each other’s arms. uch igniting a fire that consumed them both. They moved together in perfect rhythm, the rest of the world fading into oblivion as they lost themselves in each other.

────୨ৎ────

Heeseung rolled them over, pulling her close as they lay tangled in the sheets. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

She smiled, her head resting against his chest. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“So are you,” she replied, leaning up to kiss him gently.

As they lay there, their bodies still intertwined, Y/N realized she’d never felt so connected to someone before. Heeseung wasn’t just good at making her feel wanted he made her feel safe, cherished.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe that maybe this was something real.

────୨ৎ────

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting the room in warm, golden hues. Y/N stirred, the smell of coffee and something sweet pulling her from the remnants of sleep. She wrapped a blanket around herself and padded into the kitchen, where she found Heeseung standing at the stove.

He looked utterly domestic, wearing only his boxers and the apron she rarely used. A crooked smile spread across his face when he saw her.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, flipping a pancake with surprising skill.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as she watched him. “So, you cook too?”

“I’m full of surprises,” he quipped, setting a plate of pancakes on the counter.

She took a seat, letting him pour her a cup of coffee. He sat across from her, his gaze soft and attentive. “What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.

She smirked. “I don’t know. Convince me to let you stay?”

He grinned, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “Challenge accepted.”

[marauder-misprint]

Ministry Party

Sirius Black x fem!Slytherin!reader

series masterlist

5.6k words

cw: swearing, fluff, Y/N

All of the Slytherin girls were going home for Christmas so your train compartment was packed like usual. Beatrice was gushing over her parents’ plans to take her to Paris during the break and how she planned on meeting a Beauxbaton boy for some holiday romance. Cora and Pandora were listening intently, but you stared out the window. You weren’t really interested in the love story that wasn’t likely to happen. After a while, Dorcas excused herself, saying something about going to find Marlene’s compartment. 

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for break?” Cora asked once the door slid shut. 

“Mum and Dad are a bit pissed about my grades so probably studying? Bit dull, I know,” you said uninterested. 

What else were you supposed to say? Your parents might host a party where you’ll get drunk and grounded for the rest of break? You weren’t traveling. You didn’t daydream about meeting some boy on the streets around your house. If you were lucky, your mum would take you shopping so you could get gifts for everyone. More likely than not, you’d spend most of the break in your house, doing nothing too exciting. 

Cora frowned with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, what’s no fun. Bea, you should abduct her! Take her to Paris with you!”

Beatrice smiled. “Yeah! Oh, you’d love it! It’s beautiful and the food and the wine!”

“I’d be forever in your debt if you stole me away,” you replied teasingly, although you did want to stop her from ranting on and on about the wonders of Paris again. “I’ll be lucky if I get to leave my neighborhood. No way Mum’s letting me leave the country.”

“Evan and I’ll be home. You should come visit,” Pandora says. “Wouldn’t be leaving the country.”

You gave a haughty laugh at that. “Oh, please. Do we need to cover how my parents can be? My mum would say she never gets to see me and I see you all term. It’s no use.”

“That’s not very hopeful,” Pandora scolded.

“My home isn’t hopeful. It’s where hopes go to die.”

The air in the compartment seemed to thicken. It felt like you had revealed a part of your home life that you usually kept behind closed doors. You didn’t know what they expected though. You stole from just about every store you went into and from people you thought needed to be taught a lesson. You had an ability to get alcohol and hide it somewhere in Hogwarts. You got a few bad grades and now your entire break would likely be forced revisions with your father telling you that your grades are a reflection of your future income; he had been a top student in all of his muggle schools. He would tell you that he didn’t get to where he was by slacking off. 

“Now that I think of it, I can’t say Evan will be around all of break,” Pandora mused out loud after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. 

“Junior?” Cora asked.

“Junior,” she confirmed.  “Ev never brings him around and I know they don’t go to Junior’s. Not actually sure where they go…”

“Don’t you have twin telepathy or something?” Beatrice asked.

The three girls laughed. You sat in silence, thinking about all the snide comments your parents would make. You were flexing your hands and cracking your knuckles unconsciously. Or maybe you did realize that you were doing it. It was somehow soothing. The repetitive pops from your fingers was a quiet symphony to you.

---

As you had predicted, being at home wasn’t a picnic. Your father gave a rant about grades and how important they were. Your mother said it was a blessing that Professor Slughorn didn’t drop you from his Slug Club. They insisted you revise everything that was covered in the semester. After the first two days back, however, the house was eerily quiet. You received and responded to letters from your room. You studied. You would reread spell books on the couch in the conservatory. Your mother would bring you the occasional cup of tea, but you knew it was more to check on your progress than an act of kindness. 

“Y/N, come on! We need to get going!” your mum called up the stairs on Christmas Eve. 

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom. It had been a while since you wore an actual dress. You wore skirts at school, but this was different. Your mother had picked it out, along with a pair of heels. It felt like a bit much. You looked through your jewelry box and frowned. Nothing looked like what you were picturing in your head to go with the dress. Then you remembered your school jewelry box that was at the bottom of your trunk. You dig it out and unlock it. You let out a small laugh as you hold up Williams’ necklace before putting it on. It looked perfect. You glance at Regulus’ ring. No. You relocked the box and grabbed a few rings from your normal jewelry collection.

You poked your head out of the door. “Mum! Can I borrow some earrings?”

You hear her sigh impatiently. “Yes, but be quick!”

You hurried into your parents’ room and took a quick look through her boxes. You grabbed the first pair of silver hoops that you could find. Then you met your mother by the front door. 

“Oh, that’s a lovely bracelet. When’d you get that?”

You looked down at your wrist. It was the tennis bracelet from Madam Malkin’s.

“Not sure. Found it in my room over the summer,” you answered.

The two of you got into the car where your father was waiting for you. 

“So, it’s Christmas Eve. I’m dressed up. You’re both very dressed up. Where are we going?” you asked from the back seat.

“You haven’t told her yet? No wonder she willingly got into the car,” you dad said, giving you a look in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You did not like the sound of that.

“We are all going to the Ministry’s Christmas party,” your mother said shortly.

You let out a groan and threw your head back against the headrest. “I should’ve stayed at school!”

“Y/N…” your mother warned.

No one spoke for the rest of the drive. Your father put on music at some point to break up the silence. The Christmas party was for sucking up to some of the Ministry’s biggest donors and influences. It was stuffy and boring. None of your friends were ever there and the bartenders were determined to only serve those of age. Worst of all, you didn’t have a room you could easily retreat to to avoid it all. 

When you arrived and your parents got out of the car, you stayed seated. You didn’t even unbuckle. Your mother opened your door and glared. 

“Come on, Y/N/ Out.”

“No,” you said with a softness to your voice. “I’m good here. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

“Darling, listen to your mother. You’re coming in,” your father insisted. 

He reached in and unbuckled you. You let out a noise of protest. Then he put his arm around you and forcibly removed you from your seat. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Stop!”

Another couple arriving gave your family odd looks as they walked up to the building.

“You need to learn to carry yourself like a proper young lady or you’ll never get any respect,” your mother snapped at you. “That includes going to events you don’t want to be at. You must act respectable tonight. These are my employers!” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll just burn high society to the ground.”

Your mother chose to ignore your comment. She led you and your father into the building, greeting her coworkers and the event workers politely. Your father walked slightly behind you to make sure that you didn’t make a run for it. Once inside and without coats, he took his wife’s arm and walked with her, leaving you to either follow them or make it on your own. You scanned the room. Like usual and as expected, you saw no one your age. You recognized a few people from your parents’ smaller parties. You sighed. Then you realized that you lost your parents in the crowd. Apparently, if you stop walking for a moment, they speed off without you, despite saying they would keep an eye on you to make sure you behaved. You spotted a bench just off to the side. That would be your spot for the evening, you thought. As you sat down, you tried to suppress the urge to bang your head against the wall. 

“Orion and Walburga Black! Welcome!” you heard an event work say.

“You brought your sons, how lovely,” one of your mother’s coworkers said.

“Yes, they’re getting old enough to attend these events now,” a voice that must have been Walburga said. 

“Turning into young gentlemen,” Orion added, pride in his voice. 

“Welcome, Regulus and Sirius!” the event worker said. 

That made you want to bang your head against the wall even more. You turned your head just in time to see the family walk forward. You could see them all exchanging words, but in hushed tones. You assumed the boys didn’t want to be here as much as you did. Then you saw both of them spot you at the same time. You pretended not to see them, leaning back on the bench and closing your eyes.

“I see a classmate,” Sirius said smoothly, his voice no longer hushed. “I’ll find you when it’s time to go.”

“Go with him,” Walburga instructed Regulus. “Keep him out of trouble.”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see him nod and follow his brother toward you. They stood in front of you with their hands in their pockets. They stood there in silence for a moment as you kept your eyes shut. You knew they were standing there, but you hoped they would leave if you ignored them. 

“Y/N,” Sirius said. 

You opened your eyes slowly. 

“Maybe I was asleep?” you suggested flatly, looking from one brother to the other. “Not buying it? Eh, worth an attempt.”

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked coldly. 

“Mum works for the Ministry. I’ve told you.”

Sirius gave his brother a sideways glance.

“Been to this event before?” he asked, sitting down on your left. 

Regulus sat down on your right. You felt awkward and could feel yourself blushing. You would have endless questions from your mother if she managed to see you like this.

“Sadly, yes. I’ve managed to get out of a few, but, alas, not this year.”

“How… how long is it?” Regulus asked. 

“Feels like twenty questions. You two have 17 left. But at least until 10. If they can’t get people to clear out, it goes longer.”

“What do we do?” Sirius asked.

“Sixteen,” you counted. “I usually do whatever I can do to pass the time. Rubbing elbows with Ministry members and who they consider as elite isn’t really my cup of tea.”

The ‘who they consider as elite’ made Regulus uncomfortable. You knew it would and it was only confirmed by him shifting in his seat. Sirius, however, seemed unfazed by it.

“Food? Drink?” Sirius questioned.

“Food is passed around on trays. Not horrible. Desserts are top tier. Drinks, you have to go through the bartenders at their stations.”

“Hm, that’s not going to do,” Sirius said, standing up. “Care to dance?”

He held out a hand to you. You just stared at it. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the expression on Regulus’ face; it wasn’t pleasant. You took Sirius’ hand and he led you to the dance floor. 

“Any reason we just left your brother on the bench?” you asked him, casting a quick glance back to were Regulus was still sitting.

The younger boy’s face was stoney. Sirius laughed as he took your waist. Automatically, your arms went around his neck. You swayed to the slow song that was playing. 

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He would like to rub elbows with the Ministry-deemed elite. And from what I’ve heard, you and I, we’re cut from the same cloth.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked, “And what have you heard?”

“That you got Hog’s Head to serve you something other than butterbeer and then left after he found out you’re not pureblood.”

You scoffed. “Is that all? Because I’m sure as hell more than that.”

“Let me think,” he paused. “You’re the source of the drinks at Slytherin parties. You defended that Hufflepuff at the beginning of the year.”

Your hand came down to touch the necklace you stole because of that event. 

“You’re not too bad at school, and people like you.”

“You have to be liked to be in the Slug Club,” you said, unimpressed.

The music changed to a waltz and you both changed how you were holding each other.

“I don’t think being in the Club is your entire goal.”

“It’s not. Getting out alive is.”

“Huh…” Sirius said with a chuckle. “Who’s trying to kill you at Hogwarts?”

“Well, no one right now. That’s the perk of being well-liked.”

“I suppose it would be. I also know that you’re pretty and I’ve told as much. I told you that before Reg even asked you out.”

“You were drunk out of your mind,” you reminded him. “I could smell the whiskey on you before you got in my personal space.”

Sirius laughed. “And what I wouldn’t give to be that drunk again. Gives a little extra confidence-”

“Not that you need it,” you cut him off.

“If there’s more to you than being a half blood, then there’s more to me than my confidence.”

You looked over where Regulus had been sitting. He was no longer there. You assumed he went to find his parents or talk up some higher up Ministry worker. You noticed that several people were watching you and Sirius as you traveled around the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance anyways?” you asked him.

“Mother had me ‘n’ Reg take private lessons over the past few summers. You?”

“I went to a few classes two summers ago. Mum wants me to be a well-rounded young lady,” you laughed. “She still won’t drop it.”

“You’re well rounded in some parts,” he leaned in to whisper.

“Oh fuck off!” you scoffed. “Don’t make me slap you when you were actually being tolerable.”

“What do you mean by actually being tolerable? I’m a constant delight.”

“Maybe to Potter and Lupin and Petticoat.”

“Pettigrew.”

“Whatever. You say you’re more than your confidence but then you showcase your ego that’s up your arse.”

“Like you don’t have an ego?”

“My ego is earned.”

Sirius laughed.

“Besides a handful of house points, what’s your ego for?”

“Being liked and being able to handle it.”

He rolled his eyes, causing you to glare at him. You couldn’t believe you were still dancing, but you couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“That doesn’t earn you an ego. There has to be something more. I can earn house points. People like me. I can handle it. What’s the difference between you and me?”

“I… I… I’m not obnoxious when I’m being myself,” you found yourself saying.

The song ended and you took the opportunity to let go of him. You hurried off the dance floor and disappeared into the sea of people. Sirius stood still in the middle of the dance floor, watching you run away from him. Part of him wanted to follow you and get a real answer for why you thought you were better than him. By the time he decided that he did want to go after you and reached the edge of the crowd, you were long gone. He sighed and pushed his way through people. He kept an eye out for Regulus or his parents. It felt right that he should be avoiding them; it’s not like he wanted to be associated with them anyways. Unless someone was saying ‘the Blacks’ son, the one that’s nothing like them.’

You saw Regulus talking to the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Your mother complained about him a bit; he was a source of plenty of paperwork. They seemed deep in conversation, which made you smile. You did admire how he could put aside his feelings to get down to business. But, like Sirius said, you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. You could tolerate each other most of the time, but his stance on blood status was a real killer. You turned to walk in the opposite direction.

“It must be my birthday,” you muttered to yourself, smiling. 

A full glass of wine was left unattended at a table. You casually walked over and picked it up. You took a sip and grimaced. It wasn’t your favorite nor a drink you would pick out for yourself in just about any other situation, but when you weren’t being served by the bartenders, you took what you could get. Holding the glass close to your chest, you walked away from the table and back towards the bench where you had originally been sitting. You involuntarily held your breath until you saw it. No Sirius nor Regulus nor your parents in sight. Coast was clear. You sat down and watched the people on the dance floor. When a song that required ballroom dancing or a waltz or something similar, it was amazing how many people flocked to the floor. If it was something more modern or something without well-known choreography, the floor emptied out more. You could tell that one group of younger employees were the interns your mother told you about. They joined the floor when the older songs ended and moderns stuff played, as they should, you thought. 

“So, you found yourself a drink. Thought they didn’t serve underage people,” Sirius said, leaning against the wall next to your bench.

“Go away, Black. Didn’t you get the hint that I was done with you?”

“Ah, that’s the problem though. I wasn’t done talking to you and, well, I get what I want.”

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. He had loosened his tie and his shirt was less tucked than it originally was.

“Fine,” you said curtly. “Talk. Can’t promise I’ll respond.”

He took a seat on your left, just like before, except this side, he was sitting sideways with his right leg propped up so he could rest his arm on his knee and be facing you. You returned your gaze to the dance floor. 

“I want a real answer for why you’re better than me. Not obnoxious? Please.”

“I never said I was better than you. I said my ego was earned.”

“Same difference.”

“I don’t intentionally piss people off. I don’t purposefully make fools of people. I don’t step too far out of line.”

“You wore Regulus’ ring after things went south between you,” Sirius said.

Your breath hitched. You had to look at Sirius. How had he known? His grey eyes were boring holes into the side of your head so when you turned to look at him in surprise, he was already staring very deeply. A knowing smile appeared on his face when he saw your surprise.

“At a loss for words?”

You pressed your lips together as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“No,” you said coldly. You tried to steel your expression into something blank. “I just don’t recall which ring you’re talking about.”

A lie, but you didn’t know how much the brothers talked.

“Regulus give you more than one?”

“He never gave me a ring.” Not a lie.

“So you just happen to have a silver ring with emeralds in the same design as one my uncle gave Regulus, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“And you just happen to have the same necklace that I’ve seen that seventh year wear?”

His eyes flicked down to your necklace and back up to your eyes. You frowned. There was no way Sirius knew. How could he know? Sure, the girls knew about your sticky fingers, but that was it. You studied Sirius’ handsome face instead of responding.

Then his expression changed. 

“Oh. He never gave you that ring.”

Sirius was connecting the dots. 

“He found out that you’re not pureblood and now you have that ring.” He paused and you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. “That girl nearly attacked a Hufflepuff and you have that necklace. And the bartenders aren’t serving you yet you have a wine glass…”

“What about it?” you asked, trying your best to keep your voice level as if that would somehow convince Sirius that he was wrong when he was absolutely correct.

“You fancy yourself a vigilante,” he said nonchalantly. He said it like an off-handed comment that meant nothing. His grin widened with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Told you we’re cut from the same cloth.”

You rolled your eyes before taking a sip from your glass. You swirled the liquid around. Part of you regretted responding to Sirius when he asked why you thought you were better than him. Now he knew too much. He took the glass out of your hand and had a sip himself. You snatched it back, giving him an annoyed look.

“Get your own,” you grumbled.

“Darling, you know I can’t. Unless you tell me where you got yours.”

You sighed, but maybe this would get him to leave you alone.

“Found it on a table. It’s the only way to do it around here.”

Sirius stood up and stretched dramatically. Then he held out his hand to you again.

“Help me find one.”

You lazily looked up at him with a confused look. 

“It wasn’t a question, love.”

The look changed from confused to annoyed in a flash. He reached to grab your free hand and pulled you up.

“No need to be rough,” you snarled.

“Come on,” he said, his smile never leaving his face. “Hanging out with me? Helping me find my own drink? Gotta be better than sitting by yourself.”

You drained the glass before setting it down on the bench.

“Let’s find me another one too, then.”

You were conflicted with how you felt about Sirius never dropping your hand as he led you through the throngs of people. Whenever you got too close to his parents or Regulus, he pulled you in the other direction and you did the same when you got too close to your own parents. 

“I’ll never hear the end of it if they see me with you,” you hissed at him, earning a hearty laugh from him. 

“They can recognize a Black from a singular glance?”

“No. You’re just a boy.”

After a few circles of the tables, you both had collected new drinks. Sirius had yet to drop your hand. He pulled you back toward the bench where all of this had begun, but then he kept walking. He turned down a hallway and through a door; you were dragged with him. He certainly had an iron grip. After going down another hallway, he opened another door.

“Perfect,” he said as he let your hand go at last.

You followed him into the room. It looked like a normal conference room. There was a long table down the middle of the room with chairs along its edges and a podium at the front of the room. Sirius took a seat and gestured to the chair next to him. You wordlessly sat in it. It didn’t take Sirius long to become comfortable; he rested his feet on the table as he leaned back in his chair. You, being in a dress and heels, kept your feet on the ground, although they were outstretched in front of you and crossed at the ankles. 

“Did you just… assume there was a room somewhere?” you asked. 

“Every good host knows to have rooms where people can disappear to,” he said, throwing his head backwards to shake out his hair. And then he ran a hand through it. “And, believe it or not, the Ministry has to be a good host.”

“I think there are different definitions of good host, Black,” you said.

You were about to go into a tangent about how your parents locked the spare room and their bedroom for parties. If someone needed a lay down, they would have to find your parents or risk being found in the kid’s room. However, you didn’t feel like explaining about all the parties your parents hosted to another Black. Having done so with Regulus was enough and that was on a date. This was… survival? You were doing whatever you could to pass the time. You looked around the room and decided that staying on the bench might have been a better idea. At least then you’d have something to entertain you.

“What’s with the sour look?” Sirius asked.

You frowned. “Nothing to be entertained by in here.”

He laughed. “Babe, I’m right here!”

“Do not. Call me. Babe.”

“Ooh, struck a nerve, did I?”

You made to stand up but Sirius stuck his arm out, stopping you. 

“Sorry. Won’t call you that again. Just trying to have fun.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted in your seat. 

“So tell me ‘bout yourself.”

“Why?”

“To make conversation with the lovely girl in front of me?”

You shot him a disbelieving look.

“To pass the time?” he offered. 

“You could tell me about you instead. You love attention, don’t you? Love talking about yourself?”

Your voice was teasing but Sirius knew you meant to be insulting. 

“Tell me about this date you went on with little ickle Reggie. I only get so much from the rumors that go ‘round the castle, you know.”

You gave a soft laugh with a shake of your head. This guy. You lightly scratched your forehead.

“Uh, sure. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble. “There were two, actually. Watched a quidditch match and then explored the Hogwarts wall.”

You paused and looked at Sirius. You were surprised to see that he was staring at you, rather than literally anywhere else in the room or out the windows. He doesn’t say anything, but he gave you a smile to encourage you to go on.

“Then we went to Hogsmeade together. And it was going fine. Went to the Hog’s Head and just talked. It was fine. Until blood status came up and he told me to get off my soap box because I’m a pureblood so obviously I can’t talk. And I had to correct him, because I’m not. And he got quiet. You could tell… I could tell it was going to be an issue so I paid and left.”

The room filled with quiet as you stopped talking. 

“And then you got yourself a pretty little ring.”

You exhaled loudly through your nose.

“Yeah. I got myself a pretty little ring. Happy to know that about me?” 

“It’s an interesting tidbit, that’s for sure. You know, I have a matching ring. Red for Gryffindor though.”

“Great, so I’ll throw mine into the Thames next change I get.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “You’ll throw Regulus’.”

“It’s mine now. I don’t give things back.”

“Then why bother throwing it?”

“Because you have a matching one.”

“It’s not like anyone would know.”

“I’d know and that’s enough.”

The room got quiet again. You swirled your drink round and round in your glass. You were nursing it because you knew the moment you finished it, you’d want to leave the room to get another. Leaving the room wasn’t really the bad part. It was the likelihood that Sirius would follow you out. You stared at your drink in between sips. Sirius really had picked a boring room.

Because you were so focused on your glass and refusing to look anywhere else, Sirius stared at you unnoticed. It was almost like back at school. Only this time, he had an advantage. He was close to you. He could see the freckles on your arms. He could see the few loose strands of hair that were falling from your updo. He could see the eyeshadow you had on for the party. He could see your lipstick fading a little bit more with every sip you took and every time you moistened your lips. 

After a while, Sirius chuckled. A thought had occurred to him and he was about to share it with you.

“You know, I-” he started to say before the room’s door swung open. 

Both of you turned to see who it was.

“There you are,” Regulus’ cold voice rang through the room. It wasn’t a yell but the emptiness of the room made it bolder than it really was. 

Sirius groaned as his brother entered the room and took a seat a few chairs down from you.

“Tired of the Ministry elite?” Sirius asked, his voice suddenly colder compared to when he was talking to just you.

“Mum told me to keep an eye on you,” he answered monotonously. “Saw you come this way and you didn’t come back.”

“Mummy’s little pet, aren’t you?”

“Wait,” you said, sitting up straighter. You suddenly remembered hearing at some point that Sirius had run away over the summer. “Why are you even here?” 

Your question was pointed at Sirius, but neither boy spoke.

“You’re living with the Potters now, aren’t you? Why the hell are you here?”

Regulus laughed. It was colder, harsher than you recalled. 

“The dumbass forgot something in his room. He came back to get it and well, Mother has a way with persuasion.”

You looked from boy to boy. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was probably the first time you saw him uncertain and almost squeamish. His body language wasn’t the confident boy you were becoming acquainted with, but he glared daggers at Regulus in an oh-so-familiar way. Regulus’ expression was slightly amused. You felt the need to break up the silence that was building between the boys. 

“Something important enough to go back for, but not enough to have been packed the first time,” you said with no real purpose. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“What was it? I didn’t hear,” Regulus said. He sounded so casual in comparison to Sirius.

“It… it doesn’t matter. I have it now and once we leave, I’m going back to the Potters.”

The room filled with thick silence again. You returned your gaze to your cup. With a Black brother on each side, you felt like you were sitting in the middle of a war zone. You only sort of knew what the war was about, which made it all that much worse. How do you defuse a bomb when you only know one of the wires? 

You’re not sure how much time passes between the last time anyone spoke and when you finish your glass. When you place it on the table in front of you, Regulus stands up and gives Sirius a stoic look.

“We better find Mother and Father.” A trained formality took over his way of speaking, as if preparing to talk to the adults again rather than peers. “Then you can go back to your family.” Bitter venom dripped off the last word.

Sirius nodded and stood up. He followed Regulus out of the room and you were left alone in the room. You sighed. But then the door opened again.

“I thought you were leaving?” you said, looking up at Sirius as he walked back into the room. 

He closed the door behind with extreme care to ensure that it didn’t make any noise.

“Regulus doesn’t know you stopped following him, does he?”

“There’s something I need to say first.” 

He had thought about it. He wasn’t going to say what he had intended when Regulus joined them without invitation. He needed you to know something else. 

“Okay, so say it,” you said, waving your hand in the air to say ‘go on, get it out.’

“I really do think you’re pretty. And you probably are better than me, earning that ego of yours. And that takes a lot for a person to do. But you did get immediately between the seventh year and the Hufflepuff. You did it before anyone else really knew what was going on. I didn’t know that you were the one Regulus liked right away, but once I did, I started to look for what he saw in you. And I found it. I see it. And that’s why I can’t leave just yet.”

Your eyes went wide as he approached you and put a hand under your chin. Then he leaned down to kiss you. It was sweet. Soft. Momentary. Then he straightened and headed back toward the door. He opened it and paused, looking back at you.

“Think about me,” he said before leaving to find Regulus and his parents.

You just sat there. A dumbfounded look was etched into your features at what had just happened. You needed to process it. You didn’t understand how you went from two dates with Regulus months ago to a kiss with Sirius. You thought about what Sirius had said. That he looked for what Regulus saw in you and then he found it. So they had talked about you, or at least about a girl Regulus liked, and then Sirius put two and two together. You also wanted to know what he left behind and went back for, and what their mother had said to Sirius to persuade him to attend this event with them.

tags: @nsr-15, @kabekusa, @made-for-oliverwood, @sunflowerscloudydays, @salvatt1, @sammyreid, @ravisinghs-wife, @petrificustottally

Hit the point where I need a masterlist for the series - woot woot

[watarfallar]

Happy New Year! Anyone else make it to midnight? I sure did! *me at midnight, fast asleep, dreaming of the desert*

Scar, singing: He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's on thin fucking ice Grian, also singing: Santa Claus is calling you out!

Grian: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli. Scar, eyes wide: I know what I saw.

During a game of Hangman Grian: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Scar: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Grian: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

Scar: How did you break your leg? Grian: Do you see those porch stairs? Scar: Yes. Grian: I didn't.

Scar: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen? Grian: Neither. Grian: Because it's twelve.

Scar: What does a winner do when life gives them lemons? Grian: Um, make lemonade? Scar: No, they squeeze them right back into life’s eyes!

Grian: When you've been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin. Scar: Navy blue isn't your color. Grian: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! Chases after Scar

Grian: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons. Scar, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

Scar: So what’s for dinner? Grian: I can’t tell you, it’s a soup-prise! Scar: … Scar: Is it soup? Grian: I soup-pose it could be! winks Scar: Please, enough with the soup puns! Grian: Wow, you’re soup-per mean. Scar: STOP! one hour later Scar: It’s fucking tacos?!?!?!

Scar: You’re overthinking this. Grian: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Scar. What if I’m underthinking?

Grian: I regret nothing!!! Scar: I regret everything!!!

Grian: Am I right, Scar? Scar: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

Scar: Grian, where’s your report card? Grian: My friends stole it from me at school, so now I don’t have it anymore. Scar: Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that lie? Grian: What lie? Scar: That you have friends.

Grian: Scar, are you drinking… drinking hydrogen peroxide?! Scar: It says H2O2! That means it’s the sequel to water!

While planning to break in somewhere Grian: Hey, let's do "Get Help!" Scar: What? Grian: "Get Help." Scar: No. Grian: C'mon, you love it! Scar: I hate it. Grian: It's great! It works every time! Scar: It's humiliating. Grian: Do you have a better plan? Scar: No. Grian: We're doing it! Scar: We are not doing "Get Help!" A Minute Later Grian, carrying Scar: Get help! Please! They're dying! Help Them! throws Scar at guards, knocking them out Grian: Ahh, classic! Scar: gets up I still hate it. It's humiliating. Grian, laughing: Not for me, it's not.

Grian, staring lovingly at Scar: I would die for you. Scar, doing their own thing: Then perish.

Scar, shakily: Please, just tell me what the book is about. The plot, please. Grian, reading an annotation on the cover of a book, unfazed: A subversive masterpiece. A deep and touching story. New York Times Bestseller. Grian, now looking directly at Scar: Go fuck yourself.

Grian: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Scar. Scar: I hate myself. Grian: Alright, square up.

Scar: I’m so excited! Grian: We’re gonna have the best costumes, get the most candy… Scar: And have the biggest stomach aches ever! Grian: Yeah!

[starzify]

CROSSFIRE - dean winchester

PAIRING dean x fem!reader

WARNINGS angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

MASTERLIST

The warehouse was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the darkness. Dean’s fists were clenched tight as he paced back and forth, boots scuffing against the dusty concrete floor. The blood smeared across his jacket wasn’t his—a fact that should have made him feel relieved. But it didn’t.

It was yours.

You were slumped against the wall, holding a bloodied cloth to the gash on your side, your face pale but determined. The vampire was dead, its decapitated body lying a few feet away. You had seen to that, staking it after it had gotten the drop on Dean.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Dean’s voice cut through the silence, low and gravelly, but laced with a fury that made you flinch.

“Nice to see you’re grateful,” you muttered, wincing as you pressed harder on the wound.

“Grateful? Are you kidding me right now?” He spun to face you, his eyes blazing with an anger that barely concealed the fear beneath. “You jumped in front of me, Y/N! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“Yeah, Dean. I do,” You snapped, glaring up at him. “You could’ve died. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

Dean ran a hand down his face, the fight draining out of him for a moment before he slammed his fist into the wall. “Damn it, Y/N! don’t get to make that call!”

You stared at him, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your life isn’t disposable!” he shouted, his voice cracking at the edges. “You think I can just—” He stopped, turning away from you, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“You think I can lose you and just walk away like it’s nothing?” He finally said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain in your side suddenly insignificant compared to the ache in your chest. “Dean…”

He turned back to you, and for a moment, he wasn’t the stoic, tough-as-nails hunter you’d always known. He was raw, vulnerable, his green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I’m not mad because you saved me,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I’m mad because you don’t seem to get how much you mean to me. If anything happened to you…”

“Dean.” Your voice was softer now, but he didn’t stop.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing out there? Throwing yourself into the line of fire every chance you get? Acting like your life doesn’t matter as much as mine?” His jaw tightened. “Well, newsflash, sweetheart—it does. It matters more than anything.”

The air between you grew heavy, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

“No,” Dean said, crouching down in front of you, his hand coming up to rest gently over yours where it pressed against your wound. “Don’t be sorry. Just… don’t do it again. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not you.”

You swallowed hard, finally looking up to meet his gaze. The intensity there stole your breath, and for the first time, you realized just how deeply his feelings ran.

“I can’t lose you either, Dean,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the two of you locked in a silent understanding. Then Dean’s lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles, though his eyes remained serious.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck with each other then,” he said, his tone lighter but still laced with emotion.

“Guess so,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

But just as he was about to pull back, something in your expression must have given you away—a flicker of vulnerability, of longing you hadn’t meant to show.

Dean froze, his green eyes searching yours as the air grew impossibly still. “Y/N…” he said softly, his voice unsure for the first time.

You didn’t give yourself time to second-guess it. Before you could lose your nerve, you leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It wasn’t tentative or shy. It was desperate, a release of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for far too long. Dean responded instantly, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, the other still bracing you as if he was terrified you might slip away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Dean’s forehead rested against yours, his hand lingering on your face. “You really don’t make this easy, do you?” he whispered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Since when have we ever done easy?” you replied, your voice shaking but steady enough to make him laugh quietly.

“Touché.” Dean leaned in again, pressing a softer, lingering kiss to your forehead before standing. “Now let’s get you patched up before I have a heart attack.”

His hand stayed on your arm as he helped you to your feet, his touch warm and steady. And as the two of you hobbled out of the warehouse together, you couldn’t help but feel that some wounds were worth bearing if they brought you closer to him.

[the-fox-with-no-name]

Aftg Short: Small victory for Sir

Neil was hunched over the small desk in their apartment, working through an endless pile of paperwork. Between the partial deposits for their apartment, medical insurance details, and his deal with Ichirou, his head was starting to ache. The quiet clatter from the kitchen barely registered at first, but then came the faint sound of a meow. His skin prickled, a tell-tale sign that something, or someone, was radiating anger nearby.

With a sigh, Neil set his pen down and turned toward the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Andrew, standing by the counter with a deeply unimpressed expression. In his hands dangled the cat, its lower half stretched downward from gravity, while its front paws hung awkwardly in the air. Andrew’s scowl was a perfect mix of anger and quiet defeat.

“What happened?” Neil asked in a tone eerily reminiscent of a parent dealing with an unruly toddler.

Andrew looked at him, deadpan, and held up the offending feline like it was Exhibit A in a court case. “This fat bastard was on the table and stole a piece of ham from my plate.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “Did you turn your head for a second?”

Andrew’s glare sharpened. “For a moment,” he hissed, as if that justified his righteous indignation.

Neil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Andrew, you’re fighting a losing battle here.”

Andrew’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “I don’t lose battles, not easily.”

Neil tilted his head, unimpressed. “Clearly, you do. Look at him, he’s already won. You’re just prolonging his victory lap.”

Andrew shifted his gaze to the cat, who blinked up at him innocently despite the clear evidence of its crime. “He’s a thief. I don’t negotiate with criminals.”

The cat let out a pitiful meow, its tail swishing as if mocking Andrew’s outrage. Neil leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. “So your solution is what? Hold him hostage until he confesses?”

Andrew groaned but eventually let the cat go. It landed gracefully and immediately strutted toward the table, its tail high in victory. Andrew’s glare could have melted steel.

“You could just make yourself another sandwich” Neil declared, trying, and failing, not to smirk.

Andrew shot him a withering look. “No. I’ll eat later. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”

As Neil returned to his paperwork, Sir, the notorious food thief, sauntered over and leaped up onto the desk. With zero remorse for his earlier crime, the cat curled up beside Neil, rubbing his head against Neil’s arm as he wrote.

Neil glanced down at the shameless feline, shaking his head in amusement. “Did you pick a fight with Andrew?” he asked, his tone half-scolding, half-affectionate.

Sir purred loudly in response, nudging his head into Neil’s hand. Unable to resist, Neil gave the cat a scratch behind the ears. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, glancing toward the kitchen where Andrew was still fuming.

From the other room, Andrew’s voice carried over, dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t encourage him, He’s starting to be as insufferable as you are now.”

Neil smirked, scratching under Sir’s chin. “Maybe he’s just smarter than you give him credit for. He knows who’ll give him attention.”

Andrew appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, his glare shifting between Neil and the cat. “If he’s so smart, he can explain why he keeps testing his luck with me.”

Neil chuckled as he returned to his paperwork. "Probably learning from the best."

Moments like these felt strangely domestic, if you could call a standoff between Andrew and a food-stealing cat domestic.

Sir, unbothered, stretched luxuriously on the desk and let out a contented sigh. Neil chuckled, returning to his work. “Face it, Andrew. You’ve already lost. He’s got me on his side.”

Andrew scoffed but didn’t argue, retreating to the couch while muttering something about betrayal and traitorous roommates. Sir’s purring grew louder, as if to emphasize his triumph, and Neil couldn’t help but laugh.

[keep-wonwooing]

Make time for you

synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ ˗ˏˋ "busy? since when did I become busy when it comes to you?ˎˊ˗

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ Idol boyfriend seokmin x fem reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ none ( i guess? )

It was a sunny day. I was just chillin’ at the couch, scrolling through my phone. I saw a lot of updates about seventeen. I was really happy that they're doing great, especially my boyfriend Seokmin.

He and I aren't together always since he has a busy schedule and I don't want to interfere with it, so we just chatted or called often. It's not like he's not going home every night; it's just that we don't have time for each other since I also have a job as a cashier at a café near our shared apartment.

 

 While scrolling, I suddenly heard a knock at the door. Quickly standing up, I opened it to see Dokyeom smiling widely, hiding something behind his back.

"Baby? What are you doing here? Don't you have practice today?" I asked him.

"Well, our choreographer told us to take the day off since he's not available," he answered, then stole a quick kiss on my cheek. I let him inside, and he continued smiling sheepishly while looking at me.

"Dokyeom," I called, giving him a what's happening look.

He giggled and showed me a bouquet of my favorite flowers. I was shocked by what he was holding, and I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

"What's wrong, baby? You don't like it? It's okay; I'll just buy you another one."

He immediately came beside me, pulling me into his chest and gently caressing my hair.

"Oh gosh, what did I do to deserve this kind of man in my life?" I whispered. "N-no… I was just touched because it's been a while, and I-I missed you so much…" I pouted.

"I know, I'm sorry, baby. I missed you so much too," he replied, kissing my forehead.

"We haven't been able to talk to each other in person because we're both tired every night. And when it's our day off, I don't want to be a distraction or an annoying girlfriend since you're busy doing something on your laptop," I explained, still sobbing.

"Baby, what are you saying? You, a distraction? I'd rather have you distract me than do that boring work. And since when did I become busy when it comes to you?" he said, gently holding my face. "The reason I wasn’t talking to you is that I thought you wanted space for yourself. And when you weren't talking to me, I thought you were mad at me." He made me look at him as I pouted.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, burying my face in his chest as I sobbed for another five minutes before finally calming down.

"The flowers? I love them. You know they're my favorite, so thank you," I told him, hugging him tightly.

"Really? You're welcome, baby. I want to make it up to you today. How about we go on a date? There's a new burger place a few streets away," he said with a smile.

Dokyeom and I love eating burgers (and pizza). Since we rarely go to fancy restaurants, we usually eat at small places nearby.

"Hmm, we should! I'll just change quickly, then we can leave." I smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading upstairs to our shared room.

After a few minutes of picking an outfit, I finally found one. I quickly changed into it and went downstairs.

"Is this okay?" I asked DK, referring to the simple sunny dress I was wearing.

"Woah, you're so gorgeous," he exclaimed, making me blush and giggle.

"Thank you, baby. Shall we go?" I replied, wrapping my arm around his.

"Let's gooo!" he cheered, taking my hand as we both headed outside.

We arrived at the new burger place Seokmin was talking about. I’d seen it on TikTok, and people said the food here was great.

Seokmin opened the door for me, and we walked inside together. Girls kept glancing in our direction, especially at my handsome boyfriend, DK.

I couldn’t help but smile proudly, feeling so lucky to have him by my side.

"Baby? You okay?" he asked, making my cheeks burn.

"H-huh? Yes, I am. Why?" I replied, smiling sheepishly.

He chuckled and said, "I’m asking you what you want to order."

Feeling embarrassed, I hid my face against his shoulder before looking at the menu in front of us.

"I’ll just get the chicken one," I told him. He laughed at me before turning to the cashier to place our order.

He let me find a table to sit at while he paid. Seokmin never wants me to pay for our food. Even when I insist, he always says, 'A girl should never pay for a man unless it’s an emergency.' I laughed, remembering him saying that.

"They said they’ll bring our food to the table," he said, sitting beside me and wrapping his hand around mine.

"Let’s take a picture!" he suggested, pulling out his phone. We both smiled for the camera.

The fans know about our relationship. At first, I was scared I’d ruin his image, but thankfully, his fans are really supportive and happy for us.

"Excuse me…" A group of girls approached our table, looking nervous. "We’re sorry to interrupt your date, b-but is it okay if we could have an autograph?" one of the girls asked, her hands shaking as she held out a paper and pen.

Seokmin looked at me first, and I gave him a warm smile before he nodded and agreed. He signed autographs for each of them.

While he was writing, another girl spoke up. "Unnie, you’re so pretty! No wonder Dokyeom oppa is so in love with you."

I laughed. "Gosh, thank you so much! Have you guys eaten yet?" I asked.

"We haven’t, unnie. We rushed over to ask for an autograph so we wouldn’t interrupt you while you’re eating," another girl replied.

Seokmin finished signing and handed the autographs to them. They thanked us before leaving.

"Carats are so cute," I said, giggling.

"They are," he agreed, and we continued chatting while waiting for our food.

A few minutes later, our order finally arrived, and the both of us started eating the burgers we had ordered.

"Is it delicious?" he asked, watching me take a bite.

"Mm-hmm! Yeah!" I answered, smiling with food still in my mouth.

Satisfied with my answer, he began eating his food as well, and we enjoyed our meal in comfortable silence.

"I’ve seen people eating here, and they weren’t wrong when they said the food is delicious," I said, looking at him. I caught him already looking at me.

"Really? I’m glad I brought you to this place, then," he smiled, patting my head. "I love you," he whispered.

"Hmm? I love you too, baby." I giggled and leaned against his shoulder as we continued to eat.

How I missed going on dates with him! I wished we could be like this every day, but I knew we had responsibilities in our lives.

I really love this guy. I’d be willing to risk everything just to make him happy.

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapter 36

SO sorry this took so long, finally starting to get back into the swing of things! Hopefully more soon!! ISAT and Two Hats spoilers below!

"I'm sorry Eclipse, but I'd much prefer to have this conversation with Stardust alone." [You explain while trying to keep a hold of yourself. Your mind racing with terrible theories as to what could be happening.]

"No. No way. I need to know what happened too, No way I'm letting a repeat of last time happen!" [You wince as their assumption stabs you like that jagged rock. You clench your fists before Stardust speaks up.]

"N-No! It's not like that! I promise! W-We were riding in the cart together and something broke, we tumbled out and... W-Well I don't really know what happened after that exactly..." [Eclipse's expression falters some, turning from defensive to guilty.]

"S-Sorry, I... last time Sif was like this was..."

"It's fine, I understand... if you could please just give us a moment alone." [You ask as you try to keep your composure still. He agrees before hugging Stardust tight.] "They're more than welcome to tell you anything afterwards." [You try to reassure him before you and Stardust take your leave, finding a secluded spot near camp on that very early morning.]

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

"So..." [You awkwardly begin after you both sat in silence for a while.] "Do you want to hear what happened, or do you want to tell me why you were freaking out?" [They hug themself under his cloak lightly, still looking quite rattled.]

"I... I don't fully understand what happened, but... I think I... died?... like actually died? Not just like when I loop, but like... like if I didn't..." [He explains while looking down, though once his gaze returns to meet you, he blinks a couple times from your expression.] "What?... What happened?" [You take a deep breath in, and slowly sigh it out.]

"... You died... We both did, but... you died first... and..."

"And we didn't loop... until you did?" [He fills in the blank as you struggle to speak, and you nod lightly in response.] "... but... but why wouldn't we loop?... Why did you-?"

"I don't know! I don't know why you didn't loop and I did! And the more I try to think about why that might be, the worse the answer gets!!" [You shout as you can't hold it in any more.] "What if my wish changed that?! What if I stole your life?! What if it was always me looping?! I-I-!" [You start to hyperventilate, your heart racing with a crazed expression painted over your face.]

SLAP

[You... blink a couple times, feeling one half of your face stinging before looking back down to Stardust, who was recoiled in shock at what they just did.]

"S-Sorry! You were freaking out and that worked on me when I got into spirals like that so... uhhh... you okay?" [You still need a second to recover from that, but give a light nod.]

"I... I think so, yes... thank you."

"Heh, don't thank me, yet another trick from Nille~... Really though, we'll figure this out, okay? No need to jump to the worst possible conclusion so quickly. And yes, before you say it, I know that's rich coming from me." [He jokes while sticking his tongue out a bit. You can't help but chuckle a little in response.]

"Right... You're right... we'll figure all of this out eventually..." [You take a deep breath to center yourself once more, then realizing something.] "You never finished explaining what happened... before we looped..." [His happier expression fell yet again, a more worried one starting to paint over his face.]

"Well... I saw it... I saw home... I started to remember everything, it's gone now but... it was there... it was all there..." [You stare in disbelief. The Island?... They had a way home, and this was their reaction?...]

"Why do you sound so upset about that?"

"Because I don't want that! Not like this at least! I don't want home if it means I have to lose everything again..."

"It's not like we aren't used to it at this point..."

"... I wasn't gonna be the one to say it... We should probably head back now, we still gotta stop that cart and all." [He tries changing the subject, You give a sigh and nod, leaning against the tree you sat beside.]

"You go on, I still need a moment."

"You sure?... I don't know if stewing in your own thoughts is gonna help much..." [You smirk a little as a thought comes to mind.]

"Was I this annoying as your guide?"

"Hah! Oh always~! At least I get to return the favor now~." [He teases, sticking his tongue out. You give a playful defeat sigh and get back to your feet.]

"Fine, fine, you're right. Lets go."

[kingqueensoobscene]

General headcanons for Blu!Scout x reader

Hello everyone!! I hope you had a happy new year!! I want to start a new series where I make headcanons for characters I haven’t written for yet to show you my interpretations of them. This is the first, please enjoy!

-I like to believe that unlike the Red Scout, he is much more experienced or gifted at killing. In the “Meet the Spy” video, which I know is Spy disguised as Scout, but Heavy bought it and he’s canonically a smart cookie, he says he has killed plenty of spies as if it was just like driving a car. And he is very cocky about it. When he has to clear a room, he doesn’t speak. His mind is focused for once; gauging the situation. You get whiplash from how quickly he can go from hyper focused to the annoying prick you know and love.

-He has saved your hide plenty of times. You’ve saved his too. Had a couple of enemy knives to your throat only for their heads to get blown off by Scout with his Babyface. 

“You alright, gorgeous?”  He would ask.

“Yeah,” he extended his hand down to you, “Thanks.” 

“On your feet, babe! Let’s go!” 

-He looks physically different from Scout in subtle ways. Their uniform is the same and they both wear dog tags, but Blu Scout has dirty blonde hair and green eyes. Blu started the hand wraps thing, which the Red Scout would copy because he thought it looked cool, because he would get his knuckles scraped as he has a habit of breaking his fall with his fist when sped across the field. The same long face as the Red Scout, just with bushier eyebrows. He also has freckles (I totally stole that from Lil Pootis). He also has a resting passive aggressive face, he looks unamused.

-He is diagnosed with OCD and experiences intrusive thoughts. It’s funny because he is good at staying calm in situations, but will think about them later on. But he likes to keep his worries to himself. He worries that something really bad will happen to you or himself one day; such as the respawn machine stops working and he won’t see you or Ma ever again. You have had to help him through a panic attack a few times, but he hates when you find him like that. He tries to get you out the door and lock himself in. He smokes to help his anxiety, but obviously, it makes his heart beat faster, making him worse and only helps temporarily. He will try and hide it from you, but you can taste it on his breath when you kiss. 

-He does not leave you without a kiss on the cheek or the lips. He’s more than fine with PDA too and he always holds your hand or if someone else needs you to get out of the way and he notices, he gently moves you by the waist. He gets cocky about it to the other mercenaries. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know you guys are jealous. I got the finest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on and they chose me! Suck it!” 

Literally no one is paying attention.

-He takes note of everyone he has to work with. Though he can read and spell better than Red, he’s not great at writing, can’t get all of his ideas organized, so he draws what he notices about the others. For example, Spy keeps a picture of a young boy in his disguise kit and so, Scout drew Spy looking at the picture in the open kit in his left hand while the right dragged a smoke. They are amazing sketches that he never finishes. He only colors in hair or darker materials. He has so many sketches of you that he keeps in his desk drawer. If you compiled the amount of drawings he had of you, it would qualify as an anatomy and clothing study. 

-Wakes up super early. Can never sleep either due to his anxiety or his add. He will wake you up early whenever he does. Not usually when he is having an anxiety spell, he doesn’t like dragging you into that despite accidentally waking you up multiple times. He has a smoke, then makes you coffee, however you like, he will remember, wakes you up and makes sure you don’t fall back asleep. He will just keep pestering you until you stubbornly stay awake. He’s annoying and he knows it. If you don’t feel like talking, which is understandable since you’re up at 3:30, he will chat about the team or his life back in Boston.

-He has a thing for sweet treats. He always likes to take you out to the bakery just outside of the base and get you two a milkshake and some cake slices. The first time you two went, it was about 2 months into your relationship. You have not gone out of the Builder’s League since you got there, so Scout took you! It was a small little dinner that was rimmed with cherry red and a neon blue “OPEN” sign. He held the door for you.

“M’baby.” 

You seated yourself and grabbed the menus from the end of the table. You looked at all of the options, mostly the pastries. 

“I’m gonna get a malt. Ya want one, dollface?” 

“Sure, thank you!” You smiled.

The counter was a light pink, lined with a checkered, black-and-white belt wrapped around it. When he came back, he had a slice of pie, your pastry and one milkshake.

“I thought you got me one too?” You asked, puzzled.

“Yeah,” he handed you a bendable straw, “here ya go!” 

He put his red striped straw in the whipped cream and took a sip. 

“We’re sharing?” You laughed, flabbergasted.

“Isn’t that what couples do?” 

You chuckled. “You dork.”

[celestialmantdonna]

The Guardians were stuck in the middle of a war, in a place they had never been in, and accidentally uncovering a whole conspiracy against the royal family with extremely volatile social and political ramifications.

In other words, it was just another Tuesday for the Guardians of the Galaxy.

While King Raminas, Basch, Soryn, Caelen and Munoh planned Dalmasca's next move in the throne room, Groot was happily sitting on Reks' shoulder outside, after Drax had placed him there at his request.

Groot blinked wide-eyed as Reks let him pet the lizard. He beamed, reaching out to carefully pet the small creature. The lizards were so cute!

"I am Groot!"

"He says thank you," Drax translated.

"I am Groot!"

"Now he says the lizards are wonderful."

"I am Groot."

"He says his name is Groot. My name is Drax." The Kylosian remembered Reks' face, as he had seen him right after their arrival, but he didn't remember his name.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

"So what are you working on, anyway?" Quilll asked. He had been desperately trying to contact Kraglin and Nebula to no avail. "I thought you wanted to fix the ship."

"That's none of your business."

"Uh, I'm your Captain."

Rocket looked up from the green device he was working on, glaring.

"So?"

"So yeah, it's my business to know what you're doin'. It's part of my, uh... duty. As Captain."

"Are ya tryin' to tell me that Star-Lord, 'legendary outlaw', is dutiful now? Heh, what's next? Water burning?" Rocket chuckled. "Oh, wait, don't answer that, I know what's next. Us fightin' for the place where our friend survived a fuckin' assassination attempt!" He then pointed a tool at Quill menacingly. "You say a lotta nonsense, Quill, but ya really outdid yourself there, pal."

"Look, man... I'm pissed off too, alright? Mantis is... My father stole–"

"Stole her from her planet and family when she was a kid. Raised her as a servant. Used her for her powers 'cause he could create stuff from scratch but he couldn't control his damn emotions. I know. Drax told us the story, like eighteen times. It's a Kylosian thing."

"I guess... I know this sounds stupid–"

"Everythin' ya say sounds stupid, Quill," Rocket remarked with a smirk.

"Can you let me finish the damn sentence?!" Quill demanded and heaved a sigh before looking away. "I'm trying to say that... Ego... he raised her. So I see her as... a sister figure, kind of."

Rocket glanced at Quill again. He didn't stop working, but he did slow down.

"Y'know, you should say that to her," he said, his voice a bit softer, encouraging even.

"No, dude! I can't do that." Quill shoved his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

"Why not?"

"Because Ego's gone. She doesn't have to put up with his bullshit anymore. If I tell her I see her as a sister, I don't... I don't know, it would be like saying she should see Ego as her father. He stole her from her parents, dude. I can't just... ask that from her, she doesn't deserve to see that lunatic as her father."

Rocket shrugged. These conversations made him uncomfortable. Sarcasm, snark and sardonicism were much safer options.

"Eh, whatever. But since ya asked, this," he pointed to the green device he was building, "is for Mantis. We don't know how many people are willing to try and get her killed, and I don't wanna find out. This will amplify her powers, since it's gonna take me a while to fix the ship, it was a pretty messy landing. This is faster." And keeping his friends safe was more important than getting out of there, Rocket thought, but he did not say it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

As Mantis and Gamora returned to the Guardians' room to wait for the maids, the empath thought of something.

"Gamora," she said. "I think it'd b-be best if you go to the throne room. You should tell them about what Vossler said to us."

"No." Gamora's reply was firm. "I am not leaving you alone. Not after what happened."

"You heard what he said. No one else was involved in the attempt on my life. I am safe, but... the King and Prince aren't." A flicker of concern crossed her face. Mantis could feel the weight of everything setting upon her shoulders. It had been a long day, but she couldn't let herself grow tired. Not when there was a pregnant maid in need of reassurance. "Please, Gamora... I will be fine. You need to tell them what we know."

Gamora exhaled through her nose and nodded, hands on her hips. "Very well," she said. "But only if you promise me you won't leave our room."

"I promise." Mantis nodded, and she returned to the room feeling surprisingly unafraid.

Mantis waited patiently for the maids to arrive. Once they did, she allowed them to help her put on a traditional Dalmascan garment, a long, simple yet nice dress. She liked the green details of it – Mantis loved dresses. When she was almost done, she thanked the maids and said they could leave, except for one of them who could stay and help her tie the ribboon around her waist and behind her back. Mantis had felt the life growing inside the young woman, and she didn't know whether the other maids knew or not, so she chose to be silent.

Once she was alone with the woman, the empath stayed still as the other helped her with the ribboon. When it was done, she turned around and smiled gently.

"Thank you. You are very kind." She wrung her hands to refrain from passively gleaning things from her. "Could you please stay for a moment? I would like to speak with you. I am Mantis. What's your name?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Gamora returned to the throne room where she and the Guardians stood immediately after their arrival, explaining what Vossler said after Soryn and Munoh left the dungeons. She expected to find Basch and Soryn there, but since they were gone, she spoke directly to Raminas and Caelen. After all, they were the target of the next assassination attempt. Gamora didn't know what the Archadian Empire was capable of, but she knew what war could do.

She told them that the guardsmen wouldn't betray the Crown. That they weren't a danger to anyone in Dalmasca, especially to the King, Prince and Princess.

"The guard who made the attempt on my teammate's life was lied to by sir Azelas," Gamora added. "He made false claims. Said she was planning to assassinate Your Majesty, and the guard trusted him. Of course, that was a lie. He was so threatened by my teammate's abilities he wanted her gone, but no one else was involved. He reckons he... went too far with over twenty women. The exact number is not known."

Another Time, Another Place (A Hollow Universe In Space) || closed with tarnishedxknight

@tarnishedxknight continued from here

The Guardians stood there, letting Captain Basch formally introduce them to King Raminas. They all then bowed respectfully except for Rocket, who only did so because Gamora pushed his head down. They trusted Basch for the most part, as he assured them no one would hurt them after telling them to leave their weapons at the ship. Quill and Gamora were the first ones to leave theirs; Drax didn't want to leave his knives, but did so after Mantis looked at him, while Rocket pulled a comical amount of retractable weapons from his pockets.

As they followed Basch, Mantis had stayed behind for a moment to approach Vossler. She felt much better after Munoh sent her some calm energy, and she smirked at the man. Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, her antennae aglow. "Whenever you open your mouth to say something unkind, you will wail like a baby. Honestly, it might be more coherent than anything else you have said," she whispered. She patted his cheek twice as if to seal her whimsical behest, and hurried to follow the Guardians as Basch guided them through the palace of Rabanastre.

Quill straightened and cleared his throat to speak to the King. Mantis took his hand; Quill was a little confused, but he allowed it since he knew she wasn't feeling great.

"Your Majesty," he said, once again lowering his voice in an attempt to mirror Basch's formal tone and presence, hoping it would make the King like him more. "We come in peace. We thank you for your time, and we apologize for occupying one of your docks. I think I have–" He stopped talking rather suddenly, and swallowed. "Uh... I think... I have..."

What was happening was that Mantis was frantically reading his thoughts as he spoke, using her powers to interrupt him because he was going to say he had the perfect stuff to make up for it, wanting to show the King some Terran music with the Zune. While Terran music was excellent, Mantis knew not everyone would like it, nor find it an acceptable form of apology.

"I have no excuse," Quill said instead. "And I have to... shut up... now."

[sweetest-honeybee]

For the crime puppets AU

It would be really funny if despite the blackmail Frank unwillingly becomes friends with Wally, like, not necessarily close friends. But at least to the point where they end up in a "wait, wait, wait, no, since when did I start to care!? No, no, no! God damnit!!" Situation

You don’t understand I have absolutely considered this and it’s SO funny to imagine. It’s just the:

Frank: What idiot is trying to steal the Mona Lisa ??

Frank:

Frank: wait wALLY NO-

[astaricn]

Tags

[trendfag]

in hindsight i do see how saying thats a lie instead of something like thats not true or just being like no i bought it contributed to the pressure cooker of the situation but i still get mad when i think about this