#my crush for bartenders still lives on very strongly

[enamoredfaun]

perspective isn't my friend but i am trying <3

[hot-wiings]

The One Where You're Stuck At A Work Christmas Party, But At Least You Have Your Cute, Charming Coworker At Your Side.

Edited: 12-8-2020

"Would you like to pay for that upfront, or at the end of the night?"

“Isn't this an open bar party?”

You stared at the bartender with confounded and bewildered eyes and she nervously shifted as she stood, her eyes looking at the counter, occasionally glancing at other people at the bar avoiding your eyes. You took one strong whiff in her general direction and you could get a good reading on her aura, her feelings.

Molten Cheese; Anxiety. Rotten Eggs; Nervousness. Formaldehyde; Fear. 

It was your quirk that gave you such access to her vibes. You could smell emotions and feelings, provided you were within smelling distance then you could release your on pungent scents and alter someone's emotions, however, the stronger the emotions of a person then sometimes it would alter your mood. When you were younger you couldn't understand it, you didn't understand these feelings you felt or why you could smell people so strongly, as you got older you realized what each scent meant, the more pungent the stronger the feeling, the more floral meant someone was in a positive mood, and the more putrid meant they were the latter. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, this is not an open bar.  I can make a tab for you...”

You had to roll your eyes. Your company was probably the only company not to spring for an open bar for a Christmas party. You knew it was to discourage drinking, but they had to understand, as a hero, you dealt with a lot of things on your average day. The people you don't save, the countless lives that were waste and killed, children and the elderly, the horrors you saw on the battlefield. Sometimes you needed to let loose from all it, and whom more responsible to drink than a party full of heroes? Your bosses would digress.

Of course, none of this was the bartender's fault, and you felt slightly bad for getting upset after you smelled her aroma. She was young, obviously new to her job, and nervous to be dealing with alcoholics and tipsy people for the first time. Even if everyone here was probably a hero, it could still be very daunting. You never knew how someone would react under the influence, especially someone you didn't personally know.

“This is your first day on the job isn't it?”

“Is it that obvious? It's not just my first day, it's my first job.”

The girl nervously chuckled while she scratched the back of her neck, still nervously avoiding your eyes. You tapped your foot against the floor, her strong nerves beginning to affect your mood, and take over your nervous system. This was a great quirk to use on the field, especially in hostage situations, it helped you understand villains and easily sway their decision to harm people, but your mood was so easily affected by other negative emotions. It was so draining to try and change someone's mood to stop you from being affected, you changed one person, and soon three negative auras replacing it.

“That explains a lot, you're perfume is so pungent."

"Oh! You're the smelly hero, oh gosh- I- uh..."

Her eyes lit up as she realized who you were and she smiled, but the smile quickly faded as she realized what she had called you. It wasn't the first time someone realized who you were and it wouldn't be the last but never had someone so horribly botched your hero name. Maybe it was the nerves, the anxiety, the embarrassment, and every strong negative emotion she was feeling being absorbed up into your mood, but you felt completely mortified. You felt embarrassed with her and suddenly, you were crossed with the anxious thought about whether that's what your coworker called you behind your back. You wanted to cry. It was so irrational, but that's what her vibes were making you feel.

Christmas Cookies; Joy. Pine Trees; Relaxation. Candy Canes; Energetic.

The new smells engulfed you. They surrounded you as if you were inside a bakery. They entered your lungs, with each breath out and each new intake of oxygen it was there, you couldn't escape it and you didn't want to. It was distinctly joyful, distinctly happy and laidback, distinctly him. No matter how his smells changed on a day to day basis, you would recognize his scent anywhere. It was so pungent, so strong, and you could smell a lingering scent of the ocean. The smells wrapped you up and shifted your mood, they took away every negative emotion coursing through your body and replaced it with those of positivity.

You looked over your shoulder with a smile on your face as you spotted him. The Stun Gun Hero: Charge Bolt. He had a grin on his face as he sauntered over to you at the bar and occupied the barstool next to you.

"Sunset rum for the lady, on me."

The woman scurried away to make the drink with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. You turned to Denki and smiled. You didn't know if it was purely lack of brain cells, or what, but the man was always grinning. He was always smiling, he was always happy. Even on bad days, even when battling villains he seemed to reek of dopamine, serotonin, happy endorphins. You didn't know how he did it, but you were grateful for it. On days when you were stuck in the office doing paperwork or studying up on the villains you were tracking down, your coworkers seemed to bring you down. So many negative feelings from different people took hold of you, sometimes you couldn't handle all of them at once and you needed to escape it all.

That's when you discovered Denki Kaminari, a faint scent of happiness among the abyss of dark emotions. Sometimes you found yourself craving his scent, sometimes you found yourself just standing outside of his office door, just breathing him in. You were sure he'd find it weird that you stood outside his office door trying to get a whiff of his smell, but it was so much more than that. He helped you feel good, he helped the bad feelings go away and he didn't even know.

"You don't have to pay for my drink."

"But I want to, besides, I can tell you've had a pretty rough day."

“I'd rather be at home, management said I had to come, apparently I'm not social enough, and I need to strengthen my relationships with the other heroes.”

“What a pain. I came for the drinks, didn't realize they weren't free.”

The bartender set down your drink in front of you and you took a swig from it, letting the alcohol wash over your senses as you turned to Denki again. It was a strong drink and you could already feel it taking its toll, but Denki had paid for it, and wouldn't it be rude not to drink it?

“Fuck work parties, am I right?”

“Well, they're not all bad. The foods free, and I'm sitting here with a really beautiful woman.”

A blush makes way across your face, dusting your cheeks a pink color as you turn your gaze back to your drink. You thought about how to reply to his blatant flirting as you swirled the liquid around in your cup. He always threw comments like this towards you. After a training session, after you'd taken down a villain together, when you were stuck in the elevator, and even by the coffee machine. If it was anybody else but Denki, you would've filed a sexual harassment charge, but Denki was so kind and so nice about it. His smell wasn't hostile or putrid, it was always sweet. He never threw these compliments your way when you were alone, he always did it in the presence of others. He did that to avoid making you uncomfortable by giving you flirtatious attention alone, but you always took it as ungenuine feelings, but he did it so often, and so kindly, perhaps he did mean his words. Maybe it was his feelings affecting yours, or maybe it was the alcohol, but you flirted back in your own coy way.

“True’ and I have the pleasure of having the company of such a charming, handsome man.”

Denki lightly chucked at your words, flattered and surprised you flirted back. Through all his time knowing you, you just blushed and thanked him for the compliment. Truthfully, he was ready to give up on his attempts, but you had never told him you didn't like his subtle advances. His chuckle only increased the blush on your cheeks. You brought your cup up to your lips and emptied the remainder of the contents down your throat, letting the liquid courage wash over you completely, enhancing your sense of smell and making you slightly tipsy. You always had been a lightweight, and how were you to know sunset rum was eighty percent alcohol, that's sixteen times the amount of the average beer.

“So I- Are you okay?”

Your eyes were closed, making you look asleep. Leaning closer to Denki, trying to get a better whiff of him, you were practically falling out of your barstool. Denki stood up from his stool and gently pushed you back into yours so you wouldn't fall, but instead, you gripped onto his jacket and pulled him closer to you.

“I’m fine! You just- God! You smell like Christmas!”

Denki would have blushed or laughed at your words, but your tone had gotten louder and your words were slightly slurred. You were obviously drunk, or at least seriously tipsy. If he had known you were such a lightweight he would've ordered you a lighter drink. 

“Ma’am, can I have water?”

“Sure.”

“I don't need water, I'm not drunk.”

“Right, you want to jump my bones sober then?”

Your hands were still gripping Denki's jacket and your nose was in his neck, practically hugging him. In your defense, he was the one who made the first move by pushing you back in your chair. 

“I’m not trying to jump your bones! You just smell so good, you always smell good.”

You whined your words out and a deep blush came across Denki as your words entered his ears. Denki would never admit it to anyone, but the real reason he came here tonight was because he heard you would be there. Over the years of working with you, he had developed a small crush. You were so admirable, so amazing. You dedicated your career not to just saving people, but using your quirk to save the criminals, to understanding them and taking them down using pathos rather than violence. 

“I always smell good?”

“Yes! God yes. I love the way you smell, it makes me so happy and warm. Sometimes I walk by your office just to steal some of your serotonin.”

Your confession made Denki smile as the bartender set down a cup of water in front of you. Embarrassment flooded your body as you realized what you had said to him. When you were tipsy you could say some honest things, but this was a deep secret you'd been harboring.

“I shouldn't have drank, I can't believe I said that. I- I should go home.”

You stood up from the stool with your bag in hand, tripping slightly as you went. Denki quickly grabbed onto your wrist and tugged you towards him. Still buzzed, you didn't fight him and tumbled towards his chest. 

"Don't go, you're drunk. If anything happened to you, I wouldn't forgive myself. Have a glass of water."

"This is embarrassing. I'm not being creepy, I swear. Your happy mood, it helps calm me down."

“You know, my flirting isn't meaningless. I think your quirk is neat and special, I think you're neat and special. If smelling me helps you calm down, then by all means, next time come into my office."

You took the glass of water and took tiny little sips to help sober yourself up. A blush spread across your face again, Denki had just indirectly confessed to you. You thought his flirting was meaningless, you thought he didn't really like you like that. You had such a fear of rejection around him, scared he would find your smelling habits weird, but he didn't. You leaned up to Denki again, this time was not to smell him drunkly, but to place a quick, sweet, chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Think you can say all of that to me tomorrow when I'm sober?"

"Depends. Tomorrow's Christmas, do you want to see me tomorrow, or are you going to regret tonight? Regret accepting my drink, regret spending the evening with me."

Denki bit his lip, and a new scent came from him. A foreign one. You had never smelt such a thing coming from him. He had always been so happy, but now you could smell fear, anxiety, everything the waitress reeked of earlier. It appeared you were not the only one with worries and fear of rejection. Lacing your fingers with Denki's, you reassured him the only way your inebriated mind could think of, by using a pickup line.

"You wanna know what I told Santa I wanted for Christmas?"

"Hmm?"

"Told him I wanted you."

[jawritter]

Request: May I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader where the reader is very shy and she at a bar and some dirt bags are picking on her about her shortness and weight and dean stands up for her? Some smut and fluff ?? Also want to say you are a bop of a writer my love! ✨💕🥰❤️

Word Count: 2961

Warnings: Some angst I guess, language, hint of insecure reader, mean drunks at bar, SMUT, unprotected smut, oral (female receiving), I think that’s about it...

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

**MASTERLIST**

You had no idea why you agreed to come out again with Dean and Sam tonight.

It was always the same.... 

Dean would find him a little whore to spend his night with, and Sam would either find himself something to blow off some steam with, or sit at his laptop looking for another case to keep them busy with, because you all seemed addicted to the hunt as much as the next guy, and you were all at your best when you were killing things that shouldn't be allowed to exist. And you would sit alone at the bar, miserable, and avoiding other human contact as much  as possible.

It's what you expected anyway.

So when Dean threw baby into park you were out of the car, and heading into the bar without so much as looking at the brothers. Heading straight for the bar to order the strongest whatever they had. 

If you had to go home alone tonight, you'd at least get drunk enough to sleep without the nightmares.

To your surprise though Dean came, and slipped onto the barstool next to you, ordering a shot and a beer for the both of you before you could even get the bartender's attention. You looked at him strangely, and he caught it before you could even fix your face.

"What?" He asked you, as he threw back the shot the bartender slipped to him. Green eyes dancing with mischief as he looked at you.

"You're not going to start looking for tonight's lucky lady?" You asked him, and he chuckled a little next to you. 

"Na, not tonight." He said, brushing off your concern as he pulled his beer bottle to his perfect lips, and took a long deep drink.

"Think I'd rather hang out with you." He said, giving you a wink that, even though you'd never admit to anyone, made your knees weak. 

Dean had always had a soft spot in your heart, but you were too shy to ever admit to him that you had a crush on him, and plus he was way out of your league.

He was tall, strong, and gorgeous.

You were overweight, with more than a few extra pounds in places that made you feel self conscious on your best day, and to top it off you were short. Barely breaking 4'9. 

Sam often teased you that you still legally should be riding in a car seat. 

Dean never really teased you all that much about your height or your weight, sure he still teased you, but he had enough common sense to know what seemed to get under your skin, and he respectfully avoided any topic that made you uncomfortable.

Dean had just ordered the drinks when two guys came up, and sat down on the oposite side of you, The large, stupid, and obviously drunk one that smelled strongly of whiskey leered at you like your very presents disgusted him to his utter core. 

"Hey Roy?" The large smelly guy that honestly looked like his name could have been Lurch said to the much smaller guy that was just as drunk, maybe more so than he was sitting beside him. "When the fuck did they start letting whales into the bar? This one looks like she should be in a display take at the aquarium. Better call PETA and tell them they're missing their prized whale!" Lurch slurred, and Roy burst into a fit of laughter. 

You tried to make yourself as small as you could on your stool, trying to not even look at these two dirt bags that seemed to be sent by Crowley himself to torment you, Dean hadn't heard them because the music was so loud, and he was busy paying for your drinks, but when he turned he noticed the red sheen of your checks and furrowed his eyebrows at you questioningly. 

"What's wrong Y/N/N?" He asks, handing you a beer, and turning to face you fully.

He didn't have long to be confused, because before you could even answer Lurch spoke up again.

"Oh don't tell me you're trying to get with him Shammo, he's way out of your league!" Roy fell into another fit of laughter, and you looked down at your beer bottle, a tear slipping past your defenses in spite of yourself. 

Dean said nothing just got up from his bar stool and went over to stand in front of Lurch, a look of pure murder on his face, one that reminded you of his Demon days when Sam had dragged him back into the bunker and cured him.

"What's wrong pretty boy?" Lurch said, and that was all it took. Dean swung, landing a hit right to his jaw, knocking him cold off of the bar stool. 

Roy took off running towards the exit as fast as he could. Leaving his fat, smelly friend on the ground in front of Dean. 

Dean turned around to you, cupping your face in his hands, and looking you over. "You okay sweetheart?" He asks you, genuinely concerned. 

You were humiliated, embarrassed, and you could literally feel the whole bar staring at the three of you, seeing as Sam joined Dean on his left side, taking a look at Lurch still laying on the ground groaning.

"I'm fine Dean." You said, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you, instead he laced your hand in his, gave Lurch there another kick with his steel toe boot clad foot, started toward the exit with you in tow,  Sam said nothing, just followed along like this was nothing, but a normal Saturday night for Dean.

Dean opened the back seat door for you, and you climbed in. Grateful to be away from those two idiots, and that grimmy ass bar that seemed to be full of douchebags, Sam got in along with Dean, and the three of you made a short, but silent drive back to the bunker. 

You felt horrible. You felt bad that you were the reason Dean caused a scene at the bar, you felt bad that Sam and Dean didn't get to blow off steam like they had wanted to after a long hunt, and you felt bad that once again, you didn't seem to measure up enough. 

Lurch wasn't wrong. You have always been a little overweight, shy, and you are definitely short. That was just stating the obvious. Even though it did bother you, what bothered you even more than that was he was right about one thing for sure. Dean was out of your league, and even an idiot like that could tell it.

You did everything you could not to burst into tears in the back seat of the car, and ignoring the pair of green eyes that were shifting constantly from the road to the back seat, and when mercifully Dean pulled up into the Bunker's garage, you were out of the car before he could even put it in park and heading towards your room. 

You couldn't face Dean, and you didn't feel like an awkward 'chin up' talk from Sam that he would try to do. You just wanted to go to your room and cry.

Alone....

Which is apparently all you would ever be...

Alone....

You weren't in your room long before a light knock sounded through the mostly quiet room.

"Sweetheart? Can I come in?" Dean said softly. When you didn't answer him, and just continued to stare at the wall he let himself in, closing your door behind him. Slipping on the bed behind you, the bed dipping under his weight slightly.

You thought if you just ignored him he'd go away, but Dean was persistent, and your silence only made him more persistent. So he slipped under the covers behind you, and like he had every right to be there, slipping his arm around you, pulling your back to his strong chest. 

"Don't worry about what those dicks said y/n/n. Those drunk ass wipes wouldn't know what a real woman was if one walked up, and slapped them in the face." Dean said, running his fingers through your hair. 

Dean had never been this close to you before. Usually he would just knock at your door and tell you that dinner was ready, or that they had another case. Every once in a while he would ask you come watch a movie in the Dean cave with him, but never had he been this....intimate... with you, and it had your heart fluttering in your chest in spite of the tears that you were trying to wipe away from your face before Dean could see them.

"It's okay Dean," You said, ignoring the way you hated your voice after you'd been crying. "It's not like I'm not used to it. Men do that shit to me all the time, always have, that's why I don't go out with you guys very often, and it's not like what he said wasn't true." 

Dean huffed in frustration, wrapping his arm around you tighter, and then flipping you over quickly to face him as if you weighed nothing at all. Surprising you for a moment. His piercing green eyes stared into yours. Softer than you had ever seen them. Those little lines that you loved so much showing more today than they usually did.

"Baby girl NOTHING those dicks said at that bar was true, Sam told me he heard what they said to you, and was making his way over there when I turned around and noticed them. Your are not fat, you don't belong in an aquarium, those idiots were just pissed because they thought that you were with me, and some people are just so fucking misserable with their own lives that they try and do everything that they can in order to make everyone else as misserable as they are."

Dean brushed your check with his thumb. Wiping away stray tears that were still falling down your face.

"Your beautiful, your smart, you funny, you put up with our shit like no one else has even been able to before, you are not fat, your perfect, your a woman, your curves make you even more beautiful, just because your short doesn't mean shit. You could still kick my ass if you wanted to, and I've seen you take out freaks twice your size." Leaning down before you could say anything else Dean brushed his lips softly over yours, before capturing your lips in his, his mouth dominating yours quickly, his tongue sliding through your lips and gliding over your tongue in a slow but building give and take that had your toes curling. His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him, rolling you over as if it were nothing, hovering on top of you.  Breaking the kiss and leaving you breathless.

"Dean.."

"Shush." He said, putting a finger to your lips. Let me show you just how fucking gorgeous you are to me.

You sat there in wide eyed in disbelief at the man smirking above you as he sat up just long enough to rid himself of his top layers of clothing, then quickly coming back down to hover over you. Placing chaste kissing to your lips and all over your face. Making you giggle and blush all at the same time.

Dean's lips found yours in a deep, needy, passionate kiss, as his hands explored your body, riding you of your clothing as he went. Only breaking the kiss long enough to pull your shirt from your body, and throw it on the floor with all the rest of your clothes. Leaving you in just your bra, which he made quick work of getting rid of. 

Every little touch, every little trail his fingers made over your skin seemed to wake up something deep inside of you that you had never experienced before. A need, a burning fire, one that started as a smolder, but was quickly bringing to burn out of control.

The way his tongue danced with yours, the way his hands lingered on your thighs longer than most men you had been with ever did. The way he worshiped your body, trailing kisses over your stomach and between the valley of your beast. Teasing you as before finally coming up to take your nipples into his mouth, giving each the same attention until you were arching your back to get close to him. His hands never left your body.

All the insecurities, and the mean words you had heard all your life seemed to finally be melting away. Dean treated you like you were some precious treasure to him. He never said anything about your thighs being too thick, or your stomach not being flat and perfect.

His green eyes were hooded and dark with lust like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Sliding down your body, never making eye contact with you, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders he all but growled at your glistening folds exposed to him. 

"So fucking perfect baby." He said, his voice deep and thick, making a deep shutter run down your spin before he ran his tongue through your slick folds. A deep moan fell from your lips as he growled deep in his throat. 

"Fuck sweetheart." He said, before devowering your sex like a starving man having his last mean, and God did the man know what the fuck he was doing. Most men didn't bother to go down on you, they were only worried about getting themselves off and leaving, Dean though, Dean seemed intent on making you cum before he even got started.

Your legs trembling at every lick and suck of his sinful mouth hand you all but panting above him. That familiar burn building in your abdomen. The coil threatened to snap, and when he added two thick fingers into you and curled them, hitting that spot most men never found perfectly, that was it. You fell apart around him. Your walls clinch down on his fingers. 

Dean slowed his administrations, but didn't stop. Working you through your release and lapping up everything you had to give him.

When  Dean finally crawled up your body and hovered over you, his thick leaking erection lay heavy against your inner thigh as he rutted himself against you, desperately needing some sort of friction.

"You okay baby girl." He asked, and you nodded before he began peppering your face with little kisses before his lips found yours again. When he was sure you were ready and your hands started to explore his large shoulders and back he made himself ready at your dripping entrance.  Sliding himself in slowly. Stretching you and filling with inch by glorious inch. When he was finally fully seated inside your tight heat he burned his head in your shoulder, kissing your neck and nibbling on your skin there, making your walls clench around him and he hadn't even started moving yet. 

A deep moan falling from his lips as your walls fluttered around him. He stayed still until you rolled your hips against him. Letting him know  you were ready for him to move. 

Pulling himself almost all the way out of you before sliding back in. Setting a deep steady rhythm. His tip hitting that same spot deep inside of you over and over again, and the drag of his manhood over your silk walls had both of you barrelling towards your end before you knew what was happening. Every time he was fully seated inside you a deep moan would fall from his lips. Sweat shining on skin in the dim light of your room as you held onto his shoulders, his body rocking into yours at the same slow, but deep pace. 

You could feel that familiar coil tightening again, and your walls were already fluttering around him. Dean seemed to be just as close as you, his hips beginning to stutter and his pace getting faster and more erratic.

His lips found yours again as he stilled deep inside of you, his warm seed coating your walls, throwing you over the edge with him, your walls clamping down around him as he swallowed your moans, slowly rocking his hips into yours, helping you both ride out your orgasms as long as possible until he finally stopped. Rolling off of you carefully,  and pulling you into his chest. His breaths still came in short bursts as his lips found the top of your forehead.

"You have no idea how long I wanted to do that." He said, his voice quiet and ragged from your previous activities.

You buried your face in his neck, not knowing what to say until he lifted your chin with his fingers again.

"Now I don't want my girl to ever get upset over what some dick bag says at a bar because he's never had a real woman in his life and doesn't get to see what I see. Your beautiful Y/N/N, and now your mine, there's not getting rid of me. I'm going to spend the rest of our lives, no matter how short they may be, showing you everyday just how gorgeous you really are." 

His lips found yours again in a kiss that made your toes curl, and his arms tightened their hold around you. 

You were his, something you never thought you would be, but yet here you were, safe and warm in his strong arms. 'His girl' as he kept calling you, telling you over and over again how beautiful you were, until you maybe, just maybe started to believe him yourself.....

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[nightmaretyrantvantas]

 Ok guys its finally finished!!

Introducing the last two main families in my anxciet au!

Please meet the princes

The Prince family

( from left to right)

Rebecca Prince

The boys’s Mother, goes by the names Mother, Ma, and Bec-bec

Her and Diana have been married for 7 years at this point, and been together for about 10(they met and started dating on and off since high school until they got back together permanently during college)

Punk mom punk mom punk mom punk mom punk mom-

She raised roman on her own for his first year before remus was born, in which she started dating Diana again more seriously

She majored in nursing and later in  sociology in college before dropping out to take care of her boys and raise them right

Shes currently going back to school for the sociology degree inbetween her current job

She works as nurse and receptionist at a doctors office in town

Shes in her mid forties current time( where roman is 22, remus is 21, and kingley is 14)

Shes a pretty tough love kinda parent, and doesnt mind rough housing with her boys when they get too out of line and rowdy( they all enjoy the playfullness of it)

But compared to Diana she is not the scary when angry parent, and she can actually be pretty lenient with the boys depending on the situation

She also tends to be the one who gives into their requests and in kingley’s case, puppy eyes, though she puts on a tough front when she does

Rebecca is such a softie for her family I just i cant she loves them so much

She makes dad jokes just to annoy and embarrass her sons, but only makes either classic dad jokes or purposely really bad ones

100% supportive of her older boys’s relationships, and loves to tease Roman about Patton all the time

She also enjoys building things, and helped build the play structure and treehouse that are in the backyard.

Shes probably the reason Remus has no filter, as she has little filter herself

Her hair is naturally honey brown but she dyed it recently to make a statement to a shitty coworker so currently her hair is purple blue and pink

Shes usually pretty reserved around anyone thats not her family, so its a bit of a shock when people see her playful and rowdy compared to her reserved, professional front

Remus prince

The middle child at 21 but hey he can (legally) drink!

Wild feral trash man no matter what, but now hes got a switchblade and two brothers hed fucking kill for( though he wont admit it about roman)

Hes dating Logan and shows a slightly softer side to him only, and hes ride or die with his boyfriend

He tried college but it didnt suit him, so he ended up dropping out and instead getting two part time jobs: one as a vet assistant and one as a bartender, both located near his current apartment

Hes been best friends with Ethen for as long as he can remember, they grew up together and he considers Ethen a brother practically, and remus would probably be in a bad place without him and Remus recognizes this

He has a love for theater and acting that he shares with his older brother Roman and was in pretty much every school performance growing up, and even majored in theater for a bit when he was in college

He also writes alot of original short horror stories 

Hes an adrenaline junkie and loves doing reckless things for the fun of it( usually dragging Ethen or Logan along with him)

He doesnt have a youtube channel of his own but he pops up frequently enough on Ethen’s channel when joining him for explorations that Ethen’s subscribers know him well, and love seeing him in videos

Hes only got two filter and their names are Logan and Ethen 

He wants to get a snakes as pets just as much as Ethen but Their apartment has strict rules 

That did not however stop him from bringing home a in rehabilitation small fresh water turtle home from work one day, and its the only exception to the no pets rule because Remus fought tooth and nail over the fact it was part of his JOB DAMMIT HES KEPPING THE TURTLE IT NEEDS CONSTANT CARE--

ahem. anyway the turtles name is Sir snappy and he adores her

He LOVES teasing both his brothers, even if it means getting teased back he can usually take what he dishes out

usually.

He also has a drivers license but does not currently have a car as he is trying to save up to buy a motorcycle 

Kingley “King” Prince

The youngest of the family!! The also the shortest!!

He goes by the nickname “ King” and has for a couple years now

Hes fourteen and hes very upbeat and cheerful!

Hes also one of Andy’s best friends( He isnt crushing on andy dont listen to remus) and theyve been friends since second grade

Did I mention that they have sleepovers as often as they can? Because they try to. Usually King, andy, and Liam are nearly glued to the hips unless they cant be

Hes got a wild imagination and lots of ideas that he loves to share and try to put out as songs, stories, drawings, etc

He has severe ADHD and takes medication to help him narrow his focus more, as well as to keep his energy levels more consistent so he wouldnt be hugely energetic in the morning and dull and falling asleep by noon. But the medication doesnt effect his creativity sometimes it even helps boost it because he can focus better on his ideas instead of getting too many ideas at once to focus on and work on

His hair has blonde highlights in the winter and looks nearly fully blonde in the summer

Hes got his mama’s caramel brown eyes and tanner skin, as apposed to his ma’s more peachy skin and green eyes

This boy loves to wrestle and roughhouse, hes got alot of energy that needs to be ran out by bedtime and what better way then wrestling his older brothers for the tv remote when they visit? Or playing games at the park or in the backyard until the sun goes down 

He also loves to sing and draw, he can usually be caught humming and you can find doodles all over his homework and school assignments

He also got braces when he was 12 and he loves them and always gets new colors for them as often as he can convinces his parents to agree to

Roman Prince

The eldest brother at 22!

He works at the local theater as a theater tech and assistant director and also performs in a good chunk of the plays put on as well

He loves his job, especially when they put on musicals

He has a college degree in directing and one in music composing

Hes known his boyfriend patton since they were kids since their families are really close, 

He also writes his own short plays and stories that are sometimes performed at his work!!

Oh and this boy our boy roman can cook, hes learned all his cooking from his parents and absolutely loves cooking and learning new recipes and experimenting with old recipes! He also brings extra food into work to share with his coworkers and the actors in case someone doesnt have food with them or the money to buy something( as some of the workers there are broke college students or high schools trying to get experience) He and Patton share this hobby and sometimes have playful cooking competitions in their kitchen!!

Hes got a huge dvd collection that fills tree shelves of a bookshelf in their apartment 

He also holds some acting lessons to younger workers at the theater in the case someone is struggling with a role or performace

Roman is also a very smooth motherfucker in the romace department when he wants to be. Hes romantic and pays alot of to little details and goes all out for date nights, whether theyre at home dates or going out dates he tries to make it as perfect to you as possible

Also he speaks spanish and likes to sing to Patton in spanish to swoon him on a bad day

Diana Prince

The boys’s other mother! Goes by Mama, Mum, and baba

Shes in her late thirties early fourties

did I mention theyve been married for years? I did? Good good

Diana is a blunt sweetheart with a bubbly, snappy personallity and a fiery temper

Shes really good with kids and has a degree in child psychology and works as a guidance counselor at the local high school

She also helps out at their neighborhood’s church with events and sometimes helps with services as an organ player

She plays piano and has been since she was young, she can also play the guitar

She absolutely adores her family but watch out if they break a rule or get themselves into trouble she is the stern one and does not let them get out of trouble. Puppy eyes are wasted on her you do the crime you do the time and the extra chores no arguing.

That is not to say that she wont listen and hear her boys out though, its just normally after hearing them out theyre still in the wrong( pray for remus is he ever got arrested for anything cough cough the homecoming incident cough cough)

Shes been friends with Emile since high school and sees his boys almost like her own, and cares for them as such. 

She speaks spanish and told Roman and the others from a young age, but Roman is the only one who kept with it strongly, Remus only uses it when he angry and King is still learning

Shes an amazing cook, on par or even better than Emile( a statement that has been yet to be confirmed)

She is also a confirmed lover of making big meals 

She loves being outdoors and playing with her kids

She also enjoys doing embroidery as a relaxing hobby

And lastly introducing...

The Daniel family!!

(from left to right)

Olivia Daniels

Logan and Liam’s mom! Shes a psychology professor at the local college! 

Shes been going by the name Olivia for about 16 almost 17 years now and shes never been happier!

Olivia is technically their step mother, as she joined the family after Logan and Liam were born, but very early in their lives( Logan was 10 and Liam was three)

shes in her mid thirties

Her and richard have been married for 12 years and are still going strong!!

olivia is more of a gentle soul kinda person, shes peppy and softer spoken and has a very soothing and trusting presence to her. Shes easy to make laugh and loves making people smile

She also enjoys bringing treats to her classes for her overworking students

Shes not much of a cook but she does try dammit

Looks super sweet but shes a force to be reckoned with if you fuck with her children let me tell you

She wouldve made an excellent therapist had she gone into that field, shes good at listening and offering solutions

She also paints in her spare time!! And sells her paintings at local art shows!!

Shes got the worst sweet tooth ever Richard has to hide sweets in the house

She also works at the same college Logan attends, same with his father

Shes the only blonde in the family with green eyes

 Logan Daniels

Out sassy skeptic! He’s 20 years old and currently attending college with a biology major and a astrology minor!

Hes pretty reserved at first glance, being the calm and common sense to both his best friend Virgil and his boyfriend Remus

But hes such a dork when you get to know him. He could go on for hours and hours about his interests(something Remus loves listening to)

He lives in a single person dorm on campus and works in the student union as well as does tutoring sessions for high schools for extra credits

Hes been dating Remus for a good four almost five years , and they met in freshman year of high school

His dorm room is covered in various posters for astrology and bands he enjoys, as well as a few old theater posters from Remus’s old performances

He was  goddamn punk during high school, and Virgil loves to bring this up to embarrass him

He likes to always wear business casual unless hes staying in, and even then sometimes he keeps to his fashion habits a little too hard

Hes a decent cook, but he doesnt refuse the offer of someone else cooking for him either( or even going out to eat now and then) 

Hes a very large and firm skeptic and greatly enjoys debating with virgil different aspects of his beliefs and paranormal experiences, and functions as the one between them to reason away happenings with logic as a way to ease Virgils nerves. 

But he IS willing to see his best friends side of things if he is provided solid proof. 

He also makes plenty of appearances on Virgil’s channel for a variety of reasons, and his fanbase really likes him

Hes also a very protective older brother, and is not afraid to verbal destroy anyone who hurts his little brother(much to Liams angsty horror) 

He does have a car that he put Remus on his insurance for, so if his boyfriend ever DID need to drive it he would without complications

Logan also does join the boys on explorations, though this is a more rare occurance as he’d rather help them edit the videos and put them out in a timely manner

Hes pretty good at managing his student budget, but he has those moments of splurging randomly for things( as we all do sometimes)

Hes got a really REALLY nice laugh that not too many people outside his inner circle have heard

His eyes are a dark blue just like his dads, and he keeps his dark brown hair messy but practical

Liam Daniels

Logan’s baby brother! Our boy is 13 years old!!

Hes andy’s other best friend, and the final link to their little trio

Hes the more stoic of the three, as he is entering his rebellious angsty teen years a couple years early. 

He loves space and the ocean, and wants to be a marine biologist someday.

Hes not the best at being social, thats why hes got King as their talker and hes the snarky fighter

This boi is alot fiestier than he looks but only his friends and family know that, and he will throw down if you even just look at his loved ones the wrong way( despite his height)

He doesnt always get social cues either which makes him come off kinda rude in situations but I promise he doesnt mean it 

Someone got his mothers sweet tooth but cant have too much sugar because it messes with his body too much

like when he crashes from a sugar high he crashes hard and its BAD

Hes the shortest of his friends, just barely half an inch shorter than Andy

He always looks half tired and like he needs coffee but he cant have coffee so...

he loves to read and his room is filled with so many books!!

He also has a stuffed animal collection but shush about that its a secret

Hes also a spicy food lover( at least to a point, nothing too extreme) 

He likes baggier clothes because theyre more comfortable, and he prefers comfort of fashion

His eyes are a brighter blue and he keeps his hair alot neater than his brother’s

Hes also very snappy, with a comeback for almost everything

Richard Daniels

The dad!! He works as a chemistry professor at the college and a part time physics teacher at the local high school( switching days)

Hes very tall at 6′2(compared to the rest of his family)

He looks really strict but hes surprisingly laid back about alot of things( though rules and discipline are NOT one of those things) 

He is in his early fourties

He took care of the boys on his own for logans first ten years and Liams three before he met Olivia

Hes got the scolding parent look and The Tone mastered and sometimes even uses both on his students to get them to behave, with wildly successful results

Hes very logical and skeptical of things “unrealistic”

Was a stressed out stick in the mud before he met his wife, as he was a new single father trying to secure tennure in a teacher job

Hes the cook in the house, and is really good at it.

hes a more silent understood supporter of his children, as he is much more reserved than his wife

But he as the biggest soft spot for her 

He always tries to raise his boys with a strong balanced set of values and manners

He also can play lacrosse, and was considered the best player back in school

He doesnt have a good relationship with his family aside from his mother, so the boys have only met their grandma on that side, as he doesnt want any toxic mindsets or ideals influencing his children( especially Liam)

compared to Olivia  he isnt soft spoken at all but he would rather dissolve issues with communication and clarification, not anger or violence( yeah LIAM)

He also enjoys watching documentaries and doing casual photography from time to time

And its finally done!! All for families are complete and posted!!

Im really proud of these!! Especially the prince family photo! It took me days to figure out the poses...

All art referenced is credited to @aimasup @underdog-arts and @fangirltothefullest !!

Anyway i hope you guys enjoy! And hopefully soon ill be posting some writings for this au too! And posting more drawings! Enjoy!!

Taglist

@phantommoonpeople

@sweetsweetemo

@leesacrakon

@amazable01

@starbucks-remy

@jemthebookworm

@max-is-tired

@seriously-a-dragon

@sar-kasstic

@soupspam

@strawberryjellystuff

@aimasup

@unsocialchapeau

@underdog-arts

@fangirltothefullest

[trashfor-imagines]

The Music Series: Haikyū!! Edition! | 6

A LITTLE MESSED UP ft. Bokuto x Reader

Summary: Short story: You’re the life of the party, but sometimes you accidentally on purpose get out of hand and surprisingly Bokuto’s always chooses to take care of you. Warnings: Alcohol. Smoking. Drunk behavior.

-

Music blared loudly through the bar. The band playing had a bit of a pop vibe to them that made everyone dance around. It was a Friday night which meant konpa. This was a tradition your friend group participated in on almost a weekly basis, barring exam time. It was different than a traditional konpa. Instead of an izakaya, the group, fluctuating anywhere between twenty to forty people, frequented the same seedy little bar in Shinjuku where the only five employees were friends of someone in the group. It was known for having live musicians, usually in the indie, DIY, punk genre and being frequented by mainly college students. Everyone loved listening to loud music to let off steam.

You had a particularly difficult week and had been looking forward to getting absolutely smashed. You’d gotten some scathing remarks on a review you’d written from your Classical Literature professor that was pretty crushing and your boss at the publishing company you worked at went in on you for not being more available - despite having explained twice already that you were an active college student. Then there was the fact your mother wouldn’t stop calling you just to chat and your next door neighbor was an old woman who lived alone and seemed to always need help with something and your big old heart just couldn’t say no to either woman. Honestly you were constantly running out of spoons and you wanted someone to take care of you.

Drinking game after drinking game, you played them all. Win or lose, as long as you were having a good time, you didn’t care. It was past midnight now and trains had long stopped running. You were dancing in circles with a group of girls you knew, arms in the air and bouncing rhythmically to the beat. Opening your eyes, you scanned the blurry sea of faces around you. You didn’t see him so you just keep dancing. It wasn’t until the band stopped playing and house music played, did you make your way over to the bar to order a beer.

Blowing the bartender - a boy you had classes with a few times - a kiss, you took the glass bottle with you as you meandered to the small enclosed back patio. It was deserted save for a person who was headed back in. You made a motion with your fingers to your lips and he passed you a cigarette before disappearing inside, the shutting of the door barely muffling the sounds of music and partiers. You stepped onto the bench carefully, sitting down on the back of it. The cigarette sat between your lips and you closed your eyes, feeling the cool night breeze that rushed through the city’s alleyways. Tonight was a great night. Tomorrow morning not so much. Your brows suddenly furrowed, realizing you didn’t have a lighter. A blast of music signaled that someone had just joined you.

Opening an eye, you couldn’t help the blush and lazy smile that appeared on your face upon seeing the man before you staring at you with a familiar and intense gaze. He was definitely drunk. Bokuto Kotarou was two types of drunk. First he was a charismatically loud and fun drunk, and if you got enough drinks in him, he would become serious and if he had his eyes on you, completely romantic and passionate.

Reaching up, he plucked the stick from your lips and placed it between his own. Slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbook, fumbling slightly until he could light it. He stomped out the match, taking a single drag of the smoke before giving it back to you.

“It’s bad for you.”

“Then don’t enable me,” you replied, taking a drag.

“Like I could say no to you,” he scoffed, turning to sit down on the bench and carefully inserting himself between your legs. He pulled your legs over his strong shoulders and relaxed, gripping your thighs to keep you from accidentally falling backwards.

“Bokuto, take me home,” you whispered.

“In a little bit. It’s only two. Since it’s almost the end of their shift, the guys want to play a few more drinking games with the staff before we go.”

Finishing your beer and cigarette, you and Bokuto walked back inside and sat on the couches where the drinking crew sat. After several rounds of Pin-Pon-Pan, you were officially thrashed and could hardly keep up. Your owlish savior excused you for the night and the two started the long trek home across Tokyo to his apartment. He had switched beer out for water long ago, lying and saying it was vodka every time you asked him. You were quite the difficult to handle type of drunk, constantly side tracked and absolutely bratty, full of demands. Despite it having been two years since the two of you met, you hardly changed from when you first met.

A boy you knew from one class had brought Bokuto to the third ever konpa your freshman year of college. There was almost an immediate spark and the two of you were all over each other, even going to his apartment afterwards. The morning after, you didn’t stick around and disappeared. He came to the next konpa, the same thing happened, and the two of you agreed that as long as you were both into it and were single, this could keep happening. The rest was history after that, and that’s how Bokuto became your weekly dick appointment.

You still caused this man the same problems as always. Bokuto, however, matured in a sense. It depended on the situation really, but he was more serious about certain things, like his career. He decided he wasn’t going to finish college. Instead, he was going to try out for the Black Jackals after this semester. He remembered how after he told you his decision, you had acted quite recklessly at the following konpa, more so than usual. You had said some nasty things to him, kissed a stranger, and had been such a nightmare that friends asked why he even bothered with you. He simply smiled at them and, when you passed out in a booth, took you home and put you to bed. That’s what confirmed to him that you cared about him and this realization made him feel even more strongly about you.

“Bokuto, why don’t you fix your roots?” you asked, reaching up to touch his hair. At first he attempted to swat your hand away before finally lacing his fingers with yours, trying to keep you from falling behind.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Let me fix it for you. It was so cute when it was growing out.” Your free hand joined your intertwined ones, gently grasping onto his wrist. Pressing your lips to his bicep, you peered up at him. He was so handsome and tall and-

Looking down he smiled at you. “I’ll think about it.”

You grinned and your gaze wandered past him to the store window and your eyes widened, a burst of energy escaping you as you pulled him over, wanting a better look at the dress in the window. “Look how cute it is. Do you think it’d suit me?”

He watched as your eyes sparkled and he couldn’t help smirking at you. “You look good with or without clothes. Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

You narrowed your eyes and playfully slapped at his shoulder. “You dog.” Looking back at the dress, you sighed, “This store’s so expensive. Let’s go.”

The two of you continued on your way. It had barely been another fifteen minutes when Bokuto realized he was basically dragging you. He sighed, realizing you were getting exhausted. Peering back at you over his shoulder, he stopped walking, casting his gaze upward as if to ask God why. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back.

Opening one eye, you smiled at him. “Piggyback, please.”

“Come on, (Y/N), I’m tired too,” he pouted.

Stomping your feet you frowned at him, “I said please though!”

He sighed and squatted down enough for you to hop onto his back. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” you replied dismissively, climbing on.

Bokuto reached back and gave your ass and firm slap before standing up straight. “If I didn’t, then how do you explain why I always put up with your nonsense?”

“I hate you,” you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He sighed, "When are you going to finally admit you love me?”

“When you mean it,” you mumbled.

“Silly girl, don’t you know I mean it every time?”

By the time you made it to his apartment, you had sobered quite a bit. The two of you cuddled up on the couch in your underwear, making out and watching Japanese game shows between intimate physical moments and sweet whispers. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you’d been thinking of what he said when he was carrying you the entire time. Don’t you know I mean it every time? It was hard for you to digest.

He was a very honest guy, but you spent years digging in your heels when it came to having feelings for him and becoming anything other than friends-with-benefits. You remembered he hadn’t been mature or serious enough for you when you first met. He was that fun guy; the one you fooled around with, not married. You had been nursing a broken heart from a high school sweetheart at the time as well, deciding that you weren’t ready yet and you certainly weren’t going to date the first guy you slept with after your break up.

But you weren’t broken hearted about that boy anymore, and he wasn’t an immature goofball anymore. For the first time, during the span of knowing him, you opened your eyes that night and re-evaluated him; how he always seemed to be the one to take care of you, how whenever you freaked out on him he stayed by your side. Bokuto was always there for every meltdown and he was always the one you thought of when you needed someone to help you fix your problems. It’s why you can’t stand the idea of him leaving school for pro-volleyball. It feels like he's leaving you and... You never want to be without him.

Oh fuck.

Like clockwork, you woke up first with strong arms wrapped around you. Stretching out, you carefully slipped from his grasp. He slept like a log for the most part so it wasn’t difficult to make your morning after escape. You managed to shower, find the aspirin, and make a pot of coffee before you headed home. Setting some aspirin and a glass of water on his nightstand, you took a marker from his desk and wrote on his hand before pulling on your clothes as you walked out the door.

Several hours passed before Bokuto awoke. Groaning, he turned to his side and saw the empty space where you’d been and sighed. Just once he wished you’d actually stay long enough for him to wake up to you. As he reached up to rub his face, he paused at seeing the black marks on his hand. Fully opening his palm, he stared in disbelief.

I love you.

-

tag list: @hihiq​

[athenarogers-blog]

hiya! it’s been a couple of stressful days, but i’m here with my first intro! sally’s intro will be coming shortly after i double check that it’s okay to change her job lmao, but here’s the first one for athena! like this if you want to plot! just be advised that there are triggers for parental neglect, drugs, drug dealing, drug overdose, and near death experiences under the cut! 

{ Athena Rogers } is { 30 } originally from { Queens }. They spend their time as a { bartender }. They live in the { Belcrest } and have been known to be { cavalier and distant } but can also be { caring and hardworking }. They strongly resemble { Jade Tailor } and go by { she/her } pronouns.

bio

so Athena was born and raised in the Queens

her childhood was rough 

dad was never around and her mother worked to meet her and Athena’s needs 

there just wasn’t a lot 

it was easy for her to fall into the wrong crowd 

she was smoking and drinking by 14 

dropped out of high school at 16 and made money by dealing drugs 

eventually when she was 21, got her bartender’s license 

she abused drugs from 14 to 27 when she almost died from an overdose 

it was then that she realized how bad her problem was and went to rehab 

had to go twice, relapsing after the first time

the second time seems to be sticking fairly well now 

a lot more serious about her job and life now 

still having a hard time getting her footing in the social department and feeling like a real adult 

she feels so behind her peers in nearly everything and deeply regrets it 

is very closed off, it isn’t easy to make friends with her 

comes off as a real asshole sometimes

but she does secretly have a big heart

she is a cinnamon roll that’s been burned and thrown into the trash, but still a cinnamon roll

also, she’s the biggest bi to bi

possible connections

regulars that come into her bar and they short of have a friendship

old friends from childhood, maybe one that was friends with her before she fell into the bad crowd 

her roommate maybe?? 

someone that she feels very protective over for some reason

fwb

a crush either one she has or your muse has one on her

unrequited love mayhaps

idk man just hit me with what you got

[rezares]

Reza Kasraoui-Müller Five* (8)  Identities

 *five identities he claims, two he doesn’t acknowledge, and one he is struggling to

Word Count: 1366

 Father - In late 2009, an agreement was made between a sorcerer and a fairy, to conceive a child. The fairy and the sorcerer had slept together before, but were always nothing more than ‘allies with benefits.’ But the fairy wanted a child. A child, but not a husband. The sorcerer wanted neither but agreed to supply the other half of the DNA for the child. As the fairy’s pregnancy progressed, however, the sorcerer realized he couldn’t just have a child in this world and not be involved, so the arrangement was modified to be a co-parenting situation between two people that are not, never were, and would never be in love.

 On August 27th, 2010, Sabiha Ibitsam Ghadir Basira bint Reza Kasraoui was born in Hammamet, Nabeul Governorate, Tunisia. Reza’s life revolved around her from the moment she took her first breath. Her mother, a fairy named Rafika, had to practically pry her from his arms to nurse her.

 Sabiha is Reza’s greatest joy and he cannot imagine ever being separated from her again. To Reza, being a father - Sabiha’s father - is his whole reason for living. Before he is anything else, he is that wonderful little girl’s father.

Sorcerer/Magick - It’s predicted for this to be in the number two spot, but I actually struggled whether or not to place this here. Because frankly Reza feels disconnected from the experiences of most sorcerers around him - currently. I think...Reza himself would more closely identify with ‘magick’, and with pan-magickal struggles and social justice.

 Like...Reza probably has more in common as far as lived experiences, with a British werewolf than a British sorcerer. Because British werewolves and Tunisian sorcerers are both heavily discriminated against. Magic is illegal in his home country, he’s been put in jail and denied housing and work for being a sorcerer. British sorcerers, while inconvenienced by restrictions and regulations, simply do not face a comparable level of stigma to sorcerers in Tunisia.

 Reza would probably say that prior to living in Austria and now Swynlake, he would have identified more strongly with “sorcerer” as not just a label, but an entire piece of his identity. Tunisian sorcerer culture is rich, complex, and really forges a community. It means something very specific to be a sorcerer from North Africa. Now in Europe, he doesn’t as strongly identify as a sorcerer. At least, he doesn’t...think of himself as part of a community of any sort that would also specifically include say, Howl, Hera, or the Qin sisters.

 In Swynlake, Reza feels more connected to this abstract pan-magick identity. He feels closer to Hades than to any sorcerers here other than his sisters and his apprentice, Aurora.

Activist  - Reza, before anything other than being Sabiha’s father and being a sorcerer, identifies strongly with being an activist for magick rights. His pen name for pro-magick writing, Ares, the god of war, was a fitting alias.

 It isn’t just magick rights, though. During the Arab Spring, Reza was heavily active locally in the movement that ultimately toppled the Ben Ali dictatorship. He cares a lot about social justice and in every society he lives in, whether Tunisia or Swynlake, he actively seeks to speak out and fight against injustices.

 His activism is intersectional, no matter what continent he’s on.

 Muslim - This one is interesting because of its placement on the list. I thought Muslim would be fifth, below Tunisian, but it’s not and I’ll explain why in the Tunisian blurb.

 Reza is...not the strictest Muslim. He drinks alcohol and has sex outside of marriage - you know, breaks “rules” that are convenient for him like every person of faith does. But he finds comfort and community in Islam and his Muslim identity is very important to him.

 As a now out magick, Reza is unable to even enter Saudi Arabia, and is therefore unable to complete his hajj, one of the five pillars of Islam. It legitimately hurts him, but he tells himself all the time “God will understand,” and make sure he gives to charity more than is simply required by Islam.

 Tunisian - The fifth most important identity of Reza’s, is his nationality. I thought it would be higher, honestly, like maybe second or third, but as I psychoanalyzed Reza more, I realized that while it was important to him, and that he’s proud to be Tunisian...it’s number five.

 Because Tunisia’s rejected him in a way. He can’t live freely in the country that he loves. He is Tunisian but Tunisia does not see him as part of her.

 I thought Tunisia would be above Muslim on his list of identities, but I’ve come to find out that apart from his most important identity - as Sabiha’s father - he feels more strongly about the identities were he finds community. He finds more community in being Muslim here in Swynlake than with being Tunisian.

 Demiromantic - So, honestly. Reza has never heard this word, he doesn’t know what it is. But he’s demiromantic, booooorderline aromantic. Like he’s not ace, he’s quite heterosexual, but he’s never...loved anybody. Like that. And never had a longing to.

 He has the capacity to - he’s not actually aro, but he’s not able to love somebody in that way unless there’s a strong emotional attachment. Reza’s never had an attachment that strong to somebody emotionally. Even with his daughter’s mother, he wasn’t even that close friends with her, they were just a sorcerer and fairy who had mutual friends and sometimes hooked up.

 He had few female friends in Tunisia that he got very close to. While attitudes toward men and women interacting are less conservative generally in magick circles, people still can raise eyebrows if single men and women act too chummy. So Reza’d only ever really had male true friends; and he’s hetero, so of course none of those strong emotional bonds turned to something deeper.

 Like, he finds it odd that he’s never really had a proper “crush” on a woman, but he just writes it off as “my life up until now was fucking wild, of course I didn’t have time for that.”

 Disabled - This is one Reza both isn’t fully aware of, but is also aware of and in denial. The bomb set off by anti magick extremists at a sorcerer’s wedding Reza attended that nearly killed him had left him with permanent effects.

 Before the attack, Reza made most of his money as a server, bartender, fisherman, or construction worker. Even after the nearly two years of surgeries, physical therapy, and re-learning to walk again, doing these things is now impossible for him. He cannot stand up for eight, ten, thirteen hour shifts waiting tables or slinging drinks. Standing for more than a few hours at once is extremely painful. Sometimes he’ll have pain flare-ups if he’s not even doing anything.

 He keeps thinking one day it’ll get better, that it’ll go away, but he’s coming to realize this isn’t going to change back to normal.

 POC - This is the identity that like, Reza always was aware of, but has only recently come to understand what it fully means. I’ll explain.

 Reza is a man of color...from a country populated by people of color. Of course he was aware of global white supremacy - Western European beauty standards, colorism, etc -, and he was aware that he and his sisters were a bit different than most of their neighbors, as they were half white Austrian, but like….eh. Lots of Tunisians with two Tunisian parents were lighter-skinned than Reza so.

 Prior to about four years ago, when he lived in Austria for medical treatment, Reza hadn’t ever lived a racialized existence. For the first almost thirty-two years of his life, his ethnicity and Muslim faith were two things that made him blend in, not stand out.

 It’s only in the last four years that Reza’s had to grapple with what it means to be a person of color in a predominantly white society -- because he’s from a society of other people of color.

[bnrnont]

name: edward kenneth grey nicknames: kenny sometimes , mostly grey age: twenty four sexuality: pansexual / romantic pronouns:  he / him occupation: bartender sign: sagitarrius pinterest: HERE spotify: HERE

hey hey hey i’m snottie and i just happened to scroll passed this group in the tag , but i couldn’t be happier. i have the perfect muse for this place and i hope you all like him as much as i do. i have yet to really get a chance to play him , but i’m that 70s show trash and i love steven hyde ( even tho danny sucks butts ) but yeah so if you want to plot or do anything involving that 70s show or my knock off lil burnout of my own then definitely slide in them dms

( MATTY HEALY / CIS MALE ) did you catch edward kenneth grey the other day? as always, he was being his usual humble & eccentric self, despite being twenty four years old. i wonder if they’re still a bartender at the tangerine around here. it’s nothing but half smoked joints, glass ash trays overflowing with cigarette butts, fast food wrappers, crushed beer cans, messy brunette curls , and band t-shirts when it comes to them, isn’t it?

born november 28th , 1954 the illegitimate son to a negligent mother and some random guy , he lived with his mother until he was a teenager when he was fostered by a close friend’s family ( yeah yeah i know i’m not creative but i also do not deny that kenny is heavily inspired by steven hyde )

his mother was an addict and he basically raised himself for the most part bc she was always running the roads looking for her next fix , she was a stripper but they still lived in a shitty house without heat or a/c and like everything was always broken and it was just never clean

basically he was really embarrassed by it and he was dirty a lot , just a real mess of a kid who had extreme anger issues and problems with authority but luckily he found friends who were the only reason he got by tbh

yeahhhhhhhh so he was abandoned by his mom one day when he was in hs after she deemed him ‘old enough’ to take care of himself but one of his best friend’s parents wouldn’t stand for it and took him in not long after finding out he was on his own

it took a while but he warmed to them soon enough and considered them family , even respected them , and lived there until he was twenty

he eventually was able to move out and found work as a radio show personality that did fairly decent and he was able to uphold the lifestyle of drinking , drugs , and partying that he so enjoyed for quite a while

he to this day is v suspicious of the government and authority , hates cops , and any organizations , BELIEVES STRONGLY IN ALIENS

grey was comparatively less intelligent in earlier years and more “street smart”. however , gray does falls into the archetype of the intelligent “ tough guy ” just like hyde.

his intelligence is often undermined by his refusal to apply himself, but he is one of the smarter members , if not the smartest member , of his group of friends (wc).

he has a witty, blunt, and sarcastic sense of humor. he does not take things seriously , but the compassion , gratitude and love he has for those around him can be evident.

regarding serious matters , he shows compassion and empathy and gives very good advice. he has a sense of propriety and responsibility yet is not proud of it as he is more accustomed to his party / stoner lifestyle.

he pretends not care for anyone around him and sometimes he really would much rather spend his time alone.

enjoys cooking and exercising actually ? smokes a lot of weed and cigarettes ? drinks a lot of beer and wine and whiskey ?  highkey a conspiracy theorist !

though he may seem sarcastic and careless , as well as manipulative at times , there is a more mellow side of him.

he called/calls adults by their first name ( which the practice of naming parents and other adults was considered taboo in the 1970s ) especially when addressing one directly.

he does drive a black 1967 chevy el camino bc i say so gdi , wears a lot of sunglasses , a lot of ripped denim , lots of band t-shirts including but not limited to: santana , judas priest , eric clapton , AC/DC , KISS , led zeppelin , jimmy page , lynyrd skynyrd , pink floyd , the beatles , black sabbath , jethro tull , jimi hendrix , the doors , the rolling stones , ted nugent , rush , aerosmith , john lee hooker , the allman brothers band , blue oyster cult , sex pistols , ramones , the who , and the grateful dead.  

his guilty pleasure is frank sinatra and other motown music , he also doesn’t mind country music , but he’d probably never admit it bc ‘long live rock and roll man’

along with many bands grey holds a passionate love of led zeppelin , the group he wears most frequently and would totally have said “ if god didn’t want me to wear them so much he wouldn’t have made them rock so hard ”.

he likes to watch little house on the prairie , and dislikes the music of pat boone , styx , ABBA , peter frampton , andy gibb , and the little river band. in fact , he once broke up with a girl because she liked the little river band.

he wears his class ring on his pinkie and is super proud of himself for graduating at all bc he hated school and honestly they probably just passed him so they didn’t have to deal with him anymore , he probably failed a grade a time or two who knows. lol was def voted most likely to commit a crime or end up in jail ( they were right )

he knows how to operate a manual transmission , really loves cars thank you v much and is super proud of his ! !

( tw: drug mention ) it is no secret that he is a junkie , but his first choices are always marijuana and alcohol even though he will most likely partake in anything offered his way tbh

he has a job as a bartender at the tangerine rn bc surprise he got into a lot of shit for being fucked up all the time so bye bye radio show personality so he just needed a job to get by. he could probs use a roommate or something idk so hmu to do that

this was a mess and absolutely all over the place and i’m sorry ? he’s basically just steven hyde and i’d love to build a bunch of relationships like from that 70s show bc i’m a stan that has seen it beginning to end more than once so….. honestly i could make this so much longer but i won’t hmu to do stuff i have discord or you can just im !

[hollywritesinstardust]

Sister Sinner: Chapter Three

Request: Do you do cross-overs? I was thinking Neal Caffery’s younger sister works with the BAU, her brother, Mozzie, and Peter on a case, and ends up crushing on Derek Morgan.

Fandom: Criminal Minds/White Collar

Characters/Pairings: Derek Morgan/Reader; JJ, OMC

Words: 2,497

Y/N - Your Name

            The first part of the operation was supposed to be the simplest, but to you, it was the worst. Sitting at a bar, sipping on an apple martini, waiting to be approached by a strongman within the closely-knit family, felt like you were a gazelle at the watering hole. At least when you were engaged, you had cards you could play. You may not be able to win in a fight if the person was any stronger than Mozzie, but as long as you could run your mouth, you were never entirely helpless. Of course, that required having someone to run your mouth to.

            There was a wire underneath your clothes and a small tracking chip installed inside one of the medium-sized stud earrings you wore. The wire was wrapped around your abdomen and you could feel it between your breasts where it was threaded over your bra. Your high-necked blouse ensured that it wouldn’t be seen, but no matter how many times you let the feds deck you out, it never felt normal. Your pleated skirt was the only part of your ensemble you might’ve normally worn. Your shoes looked nice, but they had heels that Sara could substitute her baton for.

            You were out of your depth a little. In truth, the majority of your experience with violent crimes had been as a victim, not an investigator. Adler, Larssen, Wilkes, Dobbs and Collins – they’d all tried to hurt you, typically because they wanted something to hold over Neal’s head. Luckily for you, your resourcefulness and a little help from Neal (and occasionally, you grudgingly admitted, from Peter) your worst injuries had amounted to a minor concussion and a broken bone. You knew it could’ve been a much different story, so whenever you could avoid it, you didn’t get involved.

            This time, though, people were dying. Maybe years ago, that wouldn’t have been enough of an incentive for you. When you were on the run with Neal, Mozzie, and Kate – your own little crew – you had lived by a few principles, one of them being that you had to look after yourselves first. Now you understood that just because it might get you hurt didn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. The FBI was out of ideas. Their only semi-legitimate alternative was likely to decimate someone’s real life, assuming they weren’t killed, and of all their consultants, you were the one who probably wouldn’t get murdered. If you refused, more people would die, and you couldn’t take that on your conscience.

            Someone pulled out the bar stool to your right and sat down heavily, twirling around so their legs were under the counter. You resolutely didn’t look until you had finished your martini. You wanted to act like you weren’t nervous or in a hurry. It wasn’t too difficult – you’d been hit on enough to learn not to make your responses very obvious.

            Finally, you put down your empty glass and turned your head to look at your guest. The bartender had stopped by, but he had waved the man off. He looked big, heavyset – strong. Not someone you wanted to make mad at you. Opting for Alex’s tried and true approach – seductive and cunning – you rolled your shoulders back with your hands in your lap, licking your lips as you faced him.

            Sharp brown eyes, thick black hair in a buzz cut, and what looked like a prison tat on the lower left side of his neck gave you a pretty good idea of his temperament. His biceps and pecs were visible through his solid black shirt, a shadow of thin stubble decorated his jaw, and his nose was crooked from being broken. Even if you didn’t know how to tell prison tattoos apart from others, you would’ve been nervous to be alone with him.

            Not for the first time, you questioned exactly how quickly Derek would be able to get to you if you had to raise the alarm.

            You’d always been pretty cynical, but you’d learned to keep your mouth shut when you thought not-so-nice things. In this instance, you wondered what the likelihood of him crushing your fingers would be if you shook his hands. Whatever the statistic was, it probably looked better for you than the odds of being pummeled if you pissed him off, so politeness it was.

            “Sofia,” you said, lightly accenting your voice. Accents could make or break a role; you and Neal could mimic most of them. Rossi had been impressed. You gave your new alias’ last name and held out your hand, fingernails manicured in hot pink.

            “Gio,” he responded in a grunt, looking over your shoulder. As you’d predicted, his grip was firm almost to the point of being painful. He held on longer than strictly necessary, and you fought off a grimace and the urge to shake your hand out when he let go.

            Flagging down the bartender, you ordered yourself another martini, and a gin tonic for your new pal. He seemed like the type to enjoy gin tonics. The bartender mixed the drinks in front of you, even doing a trick by throwing the mixing canister, but you were a bit more interested in making sure your neck wasn’t going to be snapped.

            “Well, Gio, I trust you understand my situation.” You kept your voice light and took your drink straight to your mouth when it was handed to you. For the muscleman’s part, he didn’t even touch the alcohol supplied to him. You swallowed and licked your lips again, combating a dry throat. “There’s a very nice collection of very nice toys being brought through from Canada.” You avoided words like armament and smuggled – you wanted to be direct, but you also wanted to act like a halfway-competent smuggler. “I’d like to get it off of my hands.” You offered a thin smile and held up your fingernails. “That much residue really isn’t good for my cuticles.”

            Though you strongly doubted Gio – if that was even his real name – gave a damn about your cuticles, you seemed to have struck a chord. He stared at you contemplatively. You smiled saccharinely and tapped your nails on the counter. Gio wasn’t the one who was calling the shots. If he was, then honestly, the BAU didn’t need you to be the one undercover; they could’ve just sent in an agent or one of Ruiz’s department’s CIs. You had to assume that he was wearing something that either recorded your conversation or streamed it live to one of the bosses, or someone who the Gambinos trusted.

            Regardless, you played nice. You did exactly as you were supposed to and delicately chose your phrasings, discussing with tact a heavy-duty artillery that would be untraceable to the source (your gain). Gio asked thinly-veiled questions and made what sounded very obviously like a poorly-obscured threat on the behalf of the people he worked for, to which you mentioned aloofly that he should try the tonic; the mixologist knows what he’s doing.

            Neal had had operations that went much worse, much sooner, so even as more than an hour had passed, you relaxed gradually without changing your posture externally. A con artist that didn’t know fear was a dead con artist; you knew better than to take your nerves lightly. As they lessened, you became more optimistic that Derek was right, and this would be a quickly-burned persona with no more bloodshed.

            “There is one more thing.” Gio had trouble understanding your English when you started to speak a little faster, so you’d courteously slowed down closer to his pace. The heavy Italian accent and the punctuated pauses made everything he said seem just a little more intimidating. It was a little unfair. “Miss Sofia, my employers do not appreciate being spied upon.”

            “It’s bad for my business, too,” you flippantly agreed.

            “So perhaps, you can tell me,” he said, shifting his shoulders, his muscles bulging as his hands curled into fists on the countertop beside his full glass of liquor, “Why there is an unmarked automobile outside.”

            You scoffed, hoping against hope that the backup team would let you handle the situation. Part of you desperately wanted them to skedaddle, but the other part knew that, not only would that be suspicious, but if they went too far, they would lose the signal from the wire and then you would have no backup.

            “I thought that was one of yours.” You stiffened, biting the inside of your cheek and peering across the bar. Ostensibly, you were looking for a red flag. In reality, you were trying to see if you recognized any agents in place to help you out. You couldn’t find any.

            Gio’s hands moved while you were distracted. The next thing you knew, the hand that had tried squishing your fingers was attempting to pulverize your wrist. You couldn’t help the audible hiss that escaped you, or the instinctive act of jerking away, but the Italian held on. His uneven but sharp nails pinched your skin while the pressure around the thinner part of your wrist forced your flesh to dig into bones.

            Forcing yourself to keep cool, you held your arm under the table. If anyone saw a woman being held like that, they might try to intervene. While normally you would’ve appreciated a diversion, now you wanted anything but. “If I had wanted to be manhandled,” you furiously whispered, glowering, “I would have gone to the cartels. I’m sure they’d be more than willing to make a trade.”

            There was a delay between your words and the release of your wrist. It was enough to make you suspect that Gio was actually listening to someone talking into his ear, but you didn’t dare to ask. Prentiss’ warnings about not pressing for information echoed in your mind. You were offering; once you had them hooked, they’d give you the info themselves, and they’d feel confident doing it. The less flighty they were, the better everyone’s odds of surviving.

            Gio moved his hands back, but still looked like he had more than half a mind to either roofie your martini and drag you into a big white van or drag you into the bathrooms and put a bullet through your insides. The sooner you were out, the better – maybe you could talk Neal into taking you for coffee once this was over. Coffee sounded good, and having someone else watching your back? Even better.

            “How can my employers be certain?” He questioned you suspiciously, giving you the evil eye. You bit back a sigh and hoped that, if the BAU had been preparing to save the day, they now realized your life wasn’t in immediate peril.

            You considered spinning a story about how many people there were in New York, and tax evasion, and unlicensed vehicles to cheat insurance rates or whatever. Even you knew that wouldn’t fly. La Cosa Nostra was too careful; as Reid mentioned, the undercover cop who’d gotten the evidence on Kuklinski had very nearly been killed himself, as they hadn’t realized until it was almost too late that the hitman had been intending to make the cop his next victim.

            You ran through your list of underworld contacts, sorting through some of Neal’s and your aliases and contacts while you bought time by scoffing and looking into your drink. You sipped from your martini while you rapidly thought, shaking your head in disbelief at the question.

            Nick, Steve, Lucy, Ben, and Emma – all the wrong backgrounds. James isn’t credible anymore. It seemed like the majority of aliases that could’ve actually been useful had either been burned during FBI investigations or discredited by some unforeseen circumstance. More than once, you’d had to skip out on a con because you’d realized something more important was happening, including but not limited to threats on yours, or someone else’s, life. While Neal had been in prison, you’d created an identity named Johanna. You’d burned that name yourself to protect a civilian who your mark had been planning to attack. You were far from morally straight, but you had priorities.

            “Rydell,” you decided on by the time you’d set your glass down, shooting an offended and deadpan stare at the strongman, whose eyes hadn’t left you. “Gary Rydell. I make his problems disappear, he gives me favors.” You jerked your head towards the doors. “The unmarked is… insurance.” You smiled thinly. “No one lives in this business without insurance.”

            Gio – and therefore, the Gambinos – seemed to buy it. You made sure to keep your attitude up so it seemed genuine, carefully paying attention to the nuances of things said. Your stress had returned threefold, but you applauded yourself for maneuvering out of certain death (or worse). Though you weren’t exactly looking forward to explaining to Neal that he shouldn’t use that name for a while, you were mostly just glad that he’d had an alias you could lean on. If anyone looked up Rydell, they’d find charges like smuggling, fraud, obstruction, evading arrest – possibly even racketeering, depending on how Peter fenced that last go-round right after Adler’s death. For a person like Sofia, Rydell was a suitable contact.

            “This has been enlightening.” Gio offered you his hand again. Instead of taking it, you pursed your lips and lifted your right arm, showing off the bruises already beginning to color into your skin. He chuckled (this isn’t funny, you jackass) and put his hand down.

            “Truly,” you dryly concurred.

            “We will be in touch.”

            Gio left as quickly as he came, and though you watched him go, you were impressed with how such a big man moved so swiftly, especially in a crowd. You pushed your glass away from you, spared a snide look at the untouched tonic, and laid out a fifty-dollar bill on the counter to cover the costs. Sliding off the table, you straightened the hem of your shirt down over the top of your skirt, found your balance on your stilettos, and made a trip to the women’s rooms.

            Inside an empty stall, you pulled up your skirt and took your phone out of a thigh holster. You weren’t allowed to carry a gun, but you didn’t need licenses to buy holsters. Especially when you actually got them from Mozzie. You didn’t have pockets and you needed a way to securely hide your phone. While the BAU could hear everything from your end, you had no other way of communicating with them.

            The dial tone rang only twice before it was picked up. “Yes?” It was JJ’s voice, patient and quiet, with no discernible background noise. She didn’t say who she was, just in case someone else had stolen your phone and was checking your contacts to make sure you weren’t lying.

            “It’s me. He’s gone.” you said, keeping your voice hushed. You were alone in the bathroom, but didn’t think it was possible to be too cautious. “Did you get all that?”

A/N: Chapter 3/?; as promised, tagging @bestillmystuckyheart, @skeletoresinthebasement​, and @werewitchling​!

Canonical aliases referenced include Nick Halden (multiple episodes), Steve Tabernacle (multiple episodes), Benjamin Cooper (2.02 "Need to Know"), James Maine (4.01 "Wanted") and Gary Rydell (3.01 "On Guard").

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Waffles and Coffee

Imagine being in a relationship with Bucky and having issues with him not really being able to trust you as much as you do love and trust him. 

Note: Ha. I don’t know. Fluff a tiny bit. Warnings: Maybe abuse. I really think it would be a stretch though. I tried not to get that vibe out of it although: fair warning. Disclaimers: Not my character.

  "I'm talking to you!

- Yeah I heard that!"

He was shoving his stuff in a luggage. You had fought more than once that day. It had been like that for the past week. Your relationship was degrading as time passed and you did not know what to. You could not bring yourself to break it off, but apparently, he was ready to consider it. 

"Bucky...Where are you going with that?

- Steve's. Do not bother to call me. Someone will be picking up the rest of my stuff tomorrow.

- But..."

He was already gone. Tears dropped down your face without ever stopping. 

You did not sleep that night. Natasha knocked at your door at the brick of dawn. 

"How are you?"

Your body was aching. You hummed, slightly shrugging. A rare thing happened: she hugged you, strongly enough to warm you a little.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry about what happened."

You both sat down in the living room. Well, on the living room's floor. Natasha picked up what was left of mint ice-cream and a bottle of vodka. You stretched out a hand.

"Give me the booze."

Raising an eyebrow, she settled for a shot of vodka and a spoon for the ice-cream. 

"Want to talk about it?"

Your mouth full you tried not to choke on the mix of strong alcohol and icy sweet. 

"I dunno. I mean... Yes. Maybe. Nat' please be honest, did he tell you something? Anything?"

Her jaw clenched. 

"Please. I don't need it. I just want it."

Her hand went to one of the glass and she gulped it down. Taking your hands in hers she tried not to breathe to heavily, setting her eyes on yours. 

"Actually, he made me promise to tell you something. I slapped him for that."

Your heart clenched. 

"He... He does not want to come back. When I dropped by, he literally demanded of me to come get his things. He did not wonder about how it would make you feel. I think he has made himself stopped caring...

-...about me."

Eyes empty, vodka was poured down your throat. You did not even realize you did that to yourself before Natasha took the bottle out of your hands. 

"No! Of course not! Just listen to me. He is hurt. As hurt as anyone can be. But he does not want to talk about it. Steve and I, we hoped that... maybe you could tell us what went on yesterday... Try to figure out how to help both of you..."

You broke down. Natasha got some tissues out of her purse. She took you in her arms, and cradled you. 

"It's... It's all my fault Natasha... I questioned our relationship a-and now..."

Another sob brought up some more tears wetting your friend's shirt. 

You felt pathetic. 

" Shhh... Just calm down OK? It will be alright.

- No, it won’t!" you pushed her away, now standing up. Angry with yourself you lashed out. 

"You don't understand! I... I don't know what happened. Some things were setting me off... To me he is everything. Or at least a huge part of my life right now... But... He always drifts away... He doesn't want me to get involved to help him in any way. Not even when he is having nightmares right beside me... He is pushing me away every fucking time! I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

The young women pushed herself to her feet, took her jacket, her purse and left. Her face was stern and she did not even took the time to say goodbye. 

You had not been able to sleep properly the next night, nor the one after. You had to go to work nonetheless and did not manage to cover it up. Your colleagues were looking at you sideways, already talking behind your back.

Two weeks went by like that. You were trying to get on with your life without him. Without any of them actually because no one called you nor talked to you during that whole time. You had your best friend on the phone every night now. Natasha was monitoring you. She was checking how you were eating and sleeping. She never mentioned the night she went out of your apartment like a fury. 

Not until that Saturday's morning in fact. 

She showed up at your door at 8 trying to keep herself from screaming. 

"Hey. Can I come in?

- Of course. What's going on?"

Hushing past you, she sat you down on one of the kitchen's chairs. 

"Listen to me very carefully."

As she was telling you what had happened, your eyes were widening trying not to burst out of your orbits. You got your car keys still in your pyjamas and slippers. She indicated the place to go to. 

When you arrived, you were ready to kill someone. Or to disassemble them. 

The bar was crowed but not because of the very good beer. People had been calling out friends and neighbours to witness the scene. 

One of the Avengers' member fighting a civilian. 

Bucky was not drunk. He was pissed and somehow that was worse. Apparently, he had been staying in this bar since the evening before. Meaning he stayed all night with the mere humans who were having a blast for a bachelor party. Also, meaning everyone was drunk when he was pissed. 

So, when the best man took it upon himself to try and force him into a selfie, very early that morning, he did not like it. Now, the poor guy was bleeding from his mouth and his nose. All things considered he was in a pretty good state. 

Natasha forwarding you, the crowd let both of you through. 

"James!"

His face was bruised. He looked you in the face before glaring at Natasha. As the poor guy tried to stand up he tried to punch him. Some of man in the room were already stepping between them. 

"Leave him be before I disassemble you and make you eat your own shit !!"

Before even thinking it, you were throwing yourself in front of Bucky. 

"Doll, what are you even saying?

- ...God, I missed your voice."

Your bodies crushed into one another. He was so warm against you. So alive. 

His touch was setting you ablaze. If you could have, you would have done him right here and there.

You separated for a breath, struggling to even raise your ribcage without him, it was setting a fire in your lungs. 

"I missed you so much, love. 

- Then, why did you leave?"

Bucky struggled to answer. 

"I was afraid...

- About what?

- Just let me answer alright ?!"

He dropped his arms, walking a bit around you trying to get his mind around the fact that you had gone out of your own comfort zone to help him. To be with him.

"I am so sorry... I just..."

Tears filled his eyes. You did not dare to move.

"Natasha kicked my ass the day she was supposed to get my stuff back. She literally kicked my ass. I have been living off of sofas for the past weeks. Even Steve did not want to take me in if it's not saying something... I didn't know what to do, what to say to you to mend things up... Anything happens to you it happens to me doll. If you love me... If you love me you're bound to get hurt and I don't want that...

 - Shut up. That's just bullshit and you know it. You've been there for my worst moments. For the grief and the joy. What do you think was going to happen now? That I was going to run away? You're just it for me Barnes. I love you. There is no one else for me in this life but you."

People around you started to talk. Natasha shushed them all, before driving them out of the establishment. 

Meanwhile, James was looking at you like you were a ghost. His words were getting out of him without any sense to it. At least at first. 

"I... you... But... Natasha... Why? How?

- Because. " you smiled softly, taking his hands back in yours. His eyes met yours. 

“ Will you marry me?"

With the surprise the only thing you thought about was to sit down on a stool. His body followed yours, not sitting down nor moving from your side. 

"Where did that came from?

- I'd say the fifties." he joked. 

You slapped his stomach. The only thing you could touch thanks to his height. 

"I'm serious. 

- Me too. I believe you are the only one I'll ever love."

Your arms went tight around his waist. 

"Alright. Let's get married then."

He looked you over raising an eyebrow. 

"Really? I thought you'd be more reluctant about it. 

- Why? Haven't we waited long enough? What would your parents say Sergeant Barnes about marrying a girl like me, huh?" you chuckled. 

 "Well, they would be very proud. Very surprised too. 

- How is that?

-  They never thought I would settle with anyone. Until I met you."

As he was about to kiss you, you put a finger on his lips. 

"Didn't you forget something, Mister Barnes?

- I don't think so, love...

- Sure?" you asked. 

"Well... Maybe one thing. Where do you want to eat after we get married?

- You know the answer to that one. 

- Waffles and coffee?

- Of course, waffles and coffee."

 On that you both left the abandoned bar, finally letting the bartender the charge of closing his business.