#oh oh oh !!!!! I forgot to add but his eyes and teeth change color as well and do all the same stuff as the glowy stuff!!!

[kay-then-i-guess]

So, I had this idea as I'm getting close to finishing the Election arc of my Roleshuffle AU to go through my previous comic pages and point out everything I did wrong :) This is all for funsies, and I feel like my art has gotten a lot better with the Election arc. Plus, I think it's very important to go back and critique yourself to 1: see how far you've come and 2: to better understand where you tend to make mistakes. So, let's get critiquing!

Soooo starting off, I really didn't know how to make a comic. I had only done very brief, minor comic making before, so this was a completely new field of art that I wasn't used to. You can immediately see that problem in the first and second panel, since they. They aren't a panel. Nothing about them (minus the speech bubbles) indicates that this is a comic. I think the first would have benefited from each item being properly separated, and the other would have benefited from an actual image behind it; not a gradient. Speaking of the items, that's supposed to be Sam's hand at the top, and it is freckle-less (no clue why I forgot to add those lol). Some other consistency things that are weird is that L'manberg has no tower entrance, and there aren't any trees surrounding it in any other drawing. On notes of consistency, the sword there is supposed to be Techno's, but the design changed later to have a gold hilt. I guess that change never reached this panel, so now that just looks like a random sword stuck in the ground. Nobody's sword in the comic looks like that haha. Similar deal with Techno's crown: the spacing of jewels is not consistent with how I draw it in the rest of the comic.

Moving on! The next two panels of Connor aren't bad, per se, they just aren't good. (I'm mainly bothered by the fact that he doesn't have teeth in the first one.) Also, because I didn't want to draw hands and cut his arms off, it just looks like the framing of the panel is all wrong. Plus, I don't think I've seen anyone pose like that in real life. He looks like he's about to hug you, which is not the vibe I was going for. In both of these panels, we have what will become a reoccurring problem throughout: loooooong neck because I didn't draw a base figure before drawing the clothes. Connor's face should either be longer in these panels, or his shoulders should be higher. Either way, the neck does not look right. Another reoccurring problem you'll see is dull coloring/shading. I'm still working on this, to be frank, but these images all look rather dull. There's nothing unique about the lighting/colors, so it doesn't really pop like it should. Either I needed to add more dynamic lighting or be better at highlights.

Yet another case of long neck. Oh, and weird positioning on the facial features. The eyes feel stretched across his face instead of, well, where they should be. I also think in these opening panels I really fail to encapsulate Connor's personality. I was really banking on the fact that he's a silly little comic relief character in the canon dsmp, but his delivery is very dry/flat whenever I watch old clips of him. Therefore, in the early bits, he just seems a bit off because of the high energy I gave him. Next up we have a bad case of something that looked good in the sketch but did not come across after coloring. What I wanted to happen was his face to gain some anime-type shading that screams "oh no", but it just wasn't strong enough, so the end result just seems like I copied and pasted the same panel for no reason. Also, in the lower image, Connor's face does not look right. I can't really put my finger on why, but it's either because his eyes are uneven or that the facial features, once again, kind of stretch across the face.

aaaaand I originally wanted to go through the whole first part of my comic, but this is turning out to be very long. So that's a tomorrow project. Hope you enjoyed my critique!

[themurderofcrowscollective]

In minutes you're getting your human appearance tailored to your preferences, whistling a tune as you check yourself out in the mirror. Ginger hair, a fair amount of freckles peppered on pale skin, green eyes and a small tooth gap between your two front teeth. " I almost look like my brother, Rowan. " You giggle a bit before you change the hair color to brown and give your skin a bit more tanner color. " Oh that looks a lot better. Alright, I need a new name cause Garret would just give it away. Jared? " You look at your cat who seems to squint at the name. " Not Jared, got it. Richard? I could go by Dick for short. " Midnight looks up and down at you before he shakes his head no. " Fuck. " Sitting next to your cat, you sigh and think of a name until you snap your fingers. " Terry! I can be a Terry, this is a Terry face after all. " Your cat seems to enjoy it, meowing happily as you pick up your bags you've packed and access your phone, giving a confirmation that you're ready for deployment before getting Midnight into a cat carrier. " You all good in there? " Midnight meows in content as he loafs, a portal opening up and allowing you to step through. - - - Your name is now Terry Gallagher, you were born and raised in Dublin, Ireland and you like fishing, hunting, and secretly reading manga because you're still a diehard fan of Japanese culture and reading manga is fun. And you just so happen to know quite a lot about the spiritual world, but you've got a secret you'll take to the grave. Once stepping through the portal, you are instantly placed inside a helicopter with no one else inside. You seem to recognize the pilot who knows very well what you are, but to play it safe, he addresses you as your secret alias. " We'll be landing on the tarmac in about 10 minutes, Lieutenant Gallagher. " You only nod at him, holding the cat carrier on your lap. " It'll be okay kitty, just a few minutes longer. " Midnight does not seem to be bothered by the helicopter sound, in fact he's asleep. This little asshole can sleep through anything really, so you're not worried. In 10 minutes you land, and as the door slides open, you get out and squint a bit due to the sun being in your fucking face before you put on your sunglasses and adjust your eyes to find your newest Captain waiting for you. You forgot what it felt like to be alive, to be around living people so you can't help but look around and see the other men and women of the base leaving for missions or coming back, conversing with each other as you make your way to Captain John Price. " Sir, it is an honor to be here. " You salute a bit before Price returns the salute and smiles. " Welcome to the team, Lt. Gallagher! Come on in. " As soon as you're inside, you feel chills go down your spine as you follow him. It's been decades since you've been on an active base so you're a bit excited to be here again. Despite your eyes allowing you to see the spirits of those who've passed (who also recognize you without the human disguise) pass you by and wave or say hi, you're excited to be around living beings. He leads you into the breakroom designated for the 141, a special team you've had the honors of getting to see in battle. So many Shadows died during Las Almas which meant you had to have help in sorting who went where during that time, and you sometimes peeked in on what they did. You have a good idea on who everyone is, but you don't fully know them enough to even be called acquaintances. In the far corner is Ghost, not too far from him is Soap. At least you had photos to go with names when you were busy packing your stuff, or else you'd be the laughing stock for centuries among your fellow grim reapers. You scour the room and add faces to names. Konig and Horangi are at the table drawing together, Roach is watching a video with Gaz, Alejandro and Rodolfo are definitely making love eyes at each other and mumbling a few things in Spanish that you'd rather not translate to anyone, and Nikolai is getting up and approaching you. Oh shit.

" Shall I have this dance? "

Ghost has danced with Death countless times and only watched Death take his friends and loved ones with no ability of doing anything to stop it even more. He likes to imagine he's Death itself, until the day Death arrived atop a black horse in his dream... or should I say vision?

- - -

You are Death, not in a 'I'm-so-war-torn-and-edgy' way but in a more legit way. You were once a man named Garret, you had been slaughtered in captivity of the enemy and then woke up to find yourself being interviewed by the former Grim Reaper who instantly hired you on the spot as the new Grim Reaper.

Your horse is apparently your old cat named Midnight reincarnated so when you found him, you two were happy to see each other and an old bond between you both came back from the dead.

Some perks of being the Grim Reaper is wielding the scythe, yes you'll admit you're still a dork, and getting to travel the world freely. Since you're as dead as a doorknob, you also get to see the spirit world so you're a frequent visitor to Japan for the festivals held by the Mononokes and Yokais.

- - -

Every Day of The Dead, you visit old friends who've long died and still use your skills of speaking Spanish so they don't get rusty. It's great partying with them, and speaking of languages, you've mastered every language before you were signed up for field duty.

One night after being a sweetheart to a lonely dying man, letting him cross over to the afterlife, you hear your phone go ding so you take it out and see you've been given a new assignment. What strikes you as odd is that this isn't your usual task of finding a certain person across the world to help them move on but... to find a group of people who need to stay alive.

You accept it anyway, whistling for Midnight who comes galloping with a whinny. " New task Midnight, I gotta keep a group of individuals alive this time. A little strange but I'm always one for something new. " The pair of you start heading off with a portal opening up quickly in front, which you both enter through.

Upon entering through, you're back in your personal room with a letter on your bed. Midnight morphs into a black cat and sits on your bed, meowing while softly papping the letter. " Oh, thanks Midnight. " You pick it up and start reading it.

" 'Dear Mr. Reaper, upon accepting this task you hereby are required to wear a human disguise and it is important you do so as to not startle anyone. You are still free to go about your other tasks but you cannot forget that your group of particular individuals are of great importance.' Wow they still always seem so posh in these letters. Anyways... 'Upon further notice, your records from your previous life will not be used but you will go under a new alias with a secret life. It is up to you to remain anonymous, and once your task is fulfilled, you will be free from this task and go onto other tasks.' " You notice there's another slip of paper so you swap it with the other letter. " 'Your task will last until the designated timestamps of each individual.' " Below is a list of names and the ages they die. John Price - Current age: 48 - Death age: 90 " Goddamn. " Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick - Current age: 28 - Death age: 86 John 'Soap' MacTavish - Current age: 28 - Death age: 84 Simon 'Ghost' Riley - Current age: 29 - Death age: 85 For a moment you think the last two names are going to die together until you find a little sidenote. 'Simon Riley and John MacTavish are to die at the same time. They are bound by the chains of Fate and their love is written in the stars.' Huh. You've heard of those kinds of deaths, where love continues to live on even in death. You know a few guys like that too, but you've never experienced it in person. There are other names too. 'Konig' - Current age: 32 - Death age: 80 Kim 'Horangi' Hong-jin - Current age: 31 - Death age: 79 Another pair bound by chains. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson - Current age: 27 - Death age: 75 Nikolai 'Nik' Belinski - Current age: 49 - Death age: 90 Alejandro Vargas - Current age: 42 - Death age: 83 Rodolfo Parra - Current age: 41 - Death age: 82 And that makes a fourth pair. You catalogue the four pairs bounded by fate and take a deep breath, folding away the letter and putting it in your pocket. Midnight meows at you softly. " I know, this'll be one of the longest tasks I've done. But at least it's not eternity. " - - - (Pairs bounded by fate are John x Nikolai, Ghost x Soap, Konig x Horangi and Alejandro x Rodolfo. Yeh.)

[skullzy20]

PANEL DATABASE - SUBJECT 002

001 | 002 | 003

[dilftaroooo]

hi! can you please write a nsfw oneshot for dio brando x fem! reader ? to be a little specific; can you add a boss/assistant dynamic & corruption kink? tysm ( ◠‿◠ )❣️

mmm corruption kink. thats absolutely my fav, anon 🤤. i'll be more than happy to write it for you. enjoy!

(business office au)

you gotta earn it. (boss!dio x secretary!reader)

word count: //1.7k+//

synopsis: you want that raise? then show mr.brando what it is you're willing to give up to him. it's only fair.

tw/tags: dubcon, nipple play, corruption kink, size difference (not heavily mentioned though), business attire, afab reader, cute virgin reader.

"No."

Those words left you speechless; stiff in your spot as you looked into piercing, yellow, eyes. He said it in such a nonchalant manner, you don't think he even took a double take on your question. You spent so much effort to muster up the courage to ask your boss the question that you dread to be answered - but not in this way. He must have made a mistake.

"'No'...?" You echoed.

Dio leaned back in his seat, eye contact never faltering as he crossed his legs, burgundy colored dress pants ruffled at the movement. He tilted his head in a mocking manner as one well groomed eyebrow raised upwards.

"Oh dear. Perhaps my beloved secretary has gone deaf? I shall repeat myself once more: 'No' meaning, 'No, I will not offer you a raise.'"

Your fist clenched as you try to fight back the tears of humiliation and neglect. Why? Why did he refuse you? You worked so hard for him and you knew he knew that. So why won't he give you this raise? Leave it to Dio to crumble up your acts of valor and throw them into a fiery pit.

Trying to regain your composure, you speak up,

"But, sir, Why? I've done so much for you these past couple years; schedule your meetings, review your records and documents, compose orientations for newcomers. I even make sure to make your coffee each morning - a long black with two shots of expresso."

Your eyes were becoming wet. You were on brink of breaking down and crying right in front of your boss. You don't even think he was the slightest bit convinced by your retort. All he did was observe you with a wicked smirk plastered on his face. There was no change in his features but, reluctantly, you resume.

"Please, Mr.Brando. Please give me this raise. I-I'll try to do better for you! Just tell me what it is I need to do. Please, I'll do anything, Mr.Brando."

Dio stiffened. It was that keyword that gained his attention: 'anything'.

"'Anything', you say?" You nod and a flash of his white teeth glimmered from the building's colorless light on the ceiling. His chuckle was deep. "Think before spouting careless words such as that, my little mouse." The small squeak emerges from his office chair as he gets up, approaching your meek figure and you cower at his nearness. His fingers gently grasped your hair and you notice how well kept they were - manicured with a clear polish and decorated with gold rings. You didn't miss the Rolex watch wrapped around his wrist.

"Such pretty hair," He lightly plays with your mane before tightening his grip and hoisting your head up, forcing you to look directly at him. "You don't mind if I tug on it do you, love?" He adores the wince you let out, eyes scrunched close with pain.

"Ouch! Mr.Brando, Please stop-"

"Oh but you said you would do anything for me, remember? So I'm allowed to use you however I please. You want a raise, don't you?" Your face burns when his lips feather against the skin of your cheek. You heave out a low sigh at his deed. Dio deliberately consumes your reaction - savoring it like the smoothest red wine.

"Have you ever been fucked before, dear?" The amorous question made you whine. This was just too dirty. You shake your head for an answer.

"N-No, sir."

"Really? You've never been touched before? No one has ever pounded that filthy, little, pussy of yours? Tsk, tsk, tsk - What a shame. Looks like I have to change that." He lets go of your scalp but your head never moves, eyes still on his frame as you process his words.

"Wait, Mr.Brando, please. I've never- oh!" You were put to an abrupt stop when he picked you up from under your arms and legs before setting you down on his desk. It messy with scattered documents he found frivolous and purposeless, there were much more important matters at hand.

Tearing off your white dress shirt and bra in a blink of an eye, he gave your mounds a carnivorous stare, gulping at your nipples swell at his glance. He wasted no time kneading them. You let out a moan from his heated touch. It was foreign to you.

"What a lewd sound you made just now, Y/n. You like this, right? I barely even started." His fingers teased your stiff buds, pinching and pulling at them.

"Ngh- No, Mr.Brando..."

His touches were blunt and straightforward, they were rough as he assailed your fragile body. He was fervent to take it to the next step. He lifts your legs up to take off your pencil skirt.

He lets out a delighted sigh beyond seeing your choice of underwear. "Lacy panties? Was my little mouse expecting this? Getting all dressed up for your boss. You're such a nasty fucking girl."

"That's not true! I was in a rush to-"

"Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear from you. Shut up and take your panties off. I want to see how wet your cunt is." You obeyed under his stern tone - slowly stripping off your red-laced panties. You still had your legs closed, ashamed to show him your untouched flower but Dio pried them open by your knees. Your heady scent instantly fills his nose and he takes this time to observe your pussy, you were soaked - vagina pulsating, waiting for anything to be plunged inside, trimmed hairs placed on your pubic area, clit swollen with excitement. It was remarkable.

"Look at you, throbbing so greedily." He puts two thickset fingers in your sopping pussy without warning." An invevitable moan escaped your lips when he applied pressure to your g-spot.

"M-Mr.Brando - mmmm - that spot, you're hitting that-"

"Quiet, little mouse. As much as I love to hear you scream did you forget the setting we're in right now? I hate the idea of someone seeing this pretty pussy other than me." You pitch your voice down an octave - not too fond of the idea of being caught by your coworkers (especially by Jonathan).

His digits rapidly thrash inside you, bodily fluids flew everywhere. "You're making such a mess all over me. So sloppy. I have no doubt that this is what my little mouse wanted. Your grip is so firm around me." Your small hand cover your painted lips. You didn't want anyone to hear you but Dio was making it all too hard, he was hitting all of the right spots within you.

Pulling his fingers out, he unzips his flyer and sought out for his cock. His length was huge, you were unsure if you should even continue. His member intimidated you. Dio knew you were on edge, he softly coos at your expression.

"Aw, don't worry, sweetheart. You'll only feel a slight pinch." Aiming his shaft to your entrance, you recoil once he plummets inside of you, tip kissing your womb. What you felt was more than a pinch. it was easily comparable to being stabbed in your nether regions. Tears flowed from your eyes.

"Pull out! Please, it huuurts!" Your cries were ignored as Dio continued slamming into you like no tomorrow. He covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling your wails.

"Ah- You feel that? My cock jabbing at your womb?" His thrust slow down so you can feel every inch of him - veins feeling more prominent than before. "That's how deep I go inside of you. This tiny body of yours can't handle a cock like mine. Ha! And would you look at that, I can even see your stomach bulging from my dick. How filthy."

He traced his fingers along the bulge forming near your abdomen. He rams in you relentlessly. You gripped the sleeves of his business suit, wrinkling them while doing so. Dio was fired up by the calls of his name leaving your lips, making him go at a, almost inhuman, pace.

Vulgar slaps of skin filled the room and you were both close to coming. Dio's hot breaths reached your ear and his thrusts losses its initial tempo.

"You're a few inches away from getting that raise, sweetheart. Just let me fill you with my seed." He bites the crevice of your neck - his teeth were sharp.

"Mr.Brando-! I'm gonna come...Agh- Mr.Brando... D-Dio!" Said man met his high after his name was yelped - relieved to let himself go, his cum spurts deep in your walls. You came shortly after by the feeling of him filling you up. Both of you sigh.

He hoists himself up off of you to put his dick back in his pants and fix his attire. You grimace at the slimy fluids now sticking between your legs. Dio scoffed. "Consider yourself lucky, little mouse. You finally got that raise you so desparately wanted. What's wrong with a little cum in you, hm?"

A bit irritated, you get dressed as well, getting ready to leave his office. But before you can exit, he turns you around to face him, eyebrow lifted in question.

"Leaving now? Have you forgotten what to say?" You assume he wanted some form of gratitude from you for giving you a raise.

"Thank you, Di-

"Hmmm? Did I fuck you so dense you forgot who I am to you?" You blush at his smile.

"T-Thank you, Mr.Brando."

"Good girl. Run along now." He slaps your ass before you leave.

"Dio, why do you smell like sweat? The only thing you do is sign papers and present at meetings." Jonathan frowned at Dio's pungent scent. The man chortled at Jonathan's exasperation. If only he knew what happened behind closed doors.

"Don't worry about it, JoJo. A little boy like you wouldn't understand."

"We're the same age, Dio."

"Oh yeah. You're right. You have such the resemblance of a child that I must've forgotten." Dio teases. The both head to the parking lot of their company to call to it a night. Jonathan clenched his teeth.

"I do not! Just what in the hell were you doing in your office? Working out?"

Dio roared out a large laugh at the word akin to what you and him did earlier today.

"Yeah.. you can call it that."

this fic belongs to @dilftaroooo

[fanficsandfluff]

The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana. 

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together. 

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT. 

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him. 

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here 

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) 

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so. 

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill. 

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself. 

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning. 

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color. 

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo 

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater. 

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other. 

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish. 

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh. 

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell. 

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it. 

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him. 

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening. 

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 6: Lies and Pressure

Shoot.

Because it wasn’t as if though he had a famous girlfriend he had been cheating on you, his ex-fiancée, with for who knows how long. And though the amnesia had seemed to make him more mellow - probably because he recognized nobody else but you and therefore clung to that sense of familiarity - you would still not consider him a friend. Also, technically, he was still an idol and probably had an endless sea of fans that adored him in every and any way possible.

So, he was neither eligible nor a friend, in addition to being an idol, and here you were, wallowing in your feelings. Great.

Before you allowed yourself to sleep, you decided to check with Sejin. The man was pacing back and forth in front of the door, and opened his mouth to speak when he spotted you. Immediately, you put a finger across your lips, silencing him.

“He’s finally asleep,” you whispered as you poked your torso through the opening between the door and the frame. “I’ll stay here until morning, but then I need to head to school. I think it’ll be good if someone can be here by then to guard him against nosy journalists or stop him from being all too problematic.”

“I can be here by six-thirty,” said Sejin.

“That will be perfect,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said instantly. “I can’t even imagine how the situation would have turned out without you here. The kid is lucky to have someone like you.”

You blushed at the compliment. “I’m just doing what any good friend would do.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you admitted hesitantly.

“Are you dating?”

“No!” you blurted, startled by the question. You slipped out of the room and shut the door as gently as you could after you, as not to wake Jungkook. “We’re just… family friends.” This was sounding a bit repetitive even to you now.

Kim Sejin regarded you closely for a beat, but then relaxed. “Good. He already has one girlfriend to take care of. I would have hated to see him grow up into a type of guy to have several women on the side.”

You were tempted to laugh, but managed to rein yourself in. “Agreed.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You fell asleep almost before you had returned to the vacant hospital bed. Now, your plan had been to wake up before Jungkook and sneak out quietly as not to disturb him. But what you had forgotten from your earliest days of acquaintanceship - sleepovers, yes, there had been numerous of them during your childhood - was his eerie ability to wake up before anyone else. By the time your alarm went off, he was already awake, watching you in the dark.

You yelped.

“Scared you.”

You only barely discerned his smile through the dark. “Stupid,” you grunted as you tried silencing the harsh ringing. “I could have attacked you and injured you even more. Colored your eye to match the splint.”

“Didn’t take you for the fashion-conscious type.”

“You didn’t react to me threatening to throw a punch at you.”

“I know you’re violent,” he replied. “Besides, I know Taekwondo. I would like to see you try.”

His voice was smooth, like a soothing summer eve’s breeze. Or rather, as if he just had drunk from the glass of water standing on the bedside table between the beds. You sounded like a troll, and probably smelled like one, too.

“I know you do,” you grumbled as you sat up and fumbled for the glass. “Now, what did you just say about my fashion sense?”

“You never struck me as someone who cared about his or her appearance, that’s all.”

You downed the glass of water. “‘His or her’? Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Still tired?”

“Not a morning person,” you answered as you rubbed your eyes. “Why are you so talkative? Didn’t you drink last… er, about six or so hours ago? Shouldn’t you be the sour, surly one?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you drink so much you-- oh.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you - amnesia is contagious”

“Clever,” you said with a chuckle. “But no, it’s not. I just have a case of bad genes.”

Your body ached as you rose and you stretched. You hadn’t slept in the most optimal position, nor any way near the amount you needed, and your body and mind made sure to remind you of that.

“You were going to try and sneak out without waking me, weren’t you?”

“Yup,” you replied.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?”

You threw up your hands defensively. “I merely thought you needed to sleep some more.”

“As do you.”

You turned on the lights and immediately found the room flushed with pallid light. You made a face and replied, “I don’t really have the freedom to do so. I have school and then errands to run because of you.”

You hurriedly unplugged your phone and checked the fourteen notifications you had received, thirteen of which were concerned texts from your parents’ driver. The last one was a message from Se-Eun, who wondered if you would pick her up as you usually did Monday mornings. You shrugged on your jacket and purse while replying to both of them. You didn’t think you could make it to Se-Eun’s, however.

“Try to rest, Jungkook,” you said absentmindedly while typing. “Be polite to the doctors and nurses. And eat something while you’re at it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Just then, a growl erupted from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t sit here, being fed by some stranger who treats me like I’m an infant,” he said sternly, his large brown eyes defiant.

“Just like you won’t wear the hospital gown or follow any other kind of normal hospital regulations?”

“Just like that.”

“You don’t remember you’re a world-famous idol, but you sure do behave like a diva.” You snorted. “Have fun starving until I get back then. I don’t have time to force-feed you right now, but I will later.”

Jungkook snorted, too. You headed toward the door after refilling the glass when he stopped you.

“(Y/N), before you leave…”

You spun around. “Make it qui--”

You felt your chest tighten. He was holding up your engagement ring.

Jungkook had picked it up and kept it after you left him.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t know what type of guy I was yesterday, but I don’t think I’d just walk around with gold and diamonds.”

“Maybe a new trend in the K-pop industry?” you managed stiffly.

“It’s too small for me,” he said as he slipped the ring onto his little finger. It stopped halfway down the digit.

You didn’t know what to say. This was your chance to tell him the truth: the two of you had been engaged ever since you were eighteen. But then, he had cheated on you and you had broken the arrangement. You could change all of that now. To be frank, you didn’t hate the idea as much any longer. You were the only person he trusted and, as you had acknowledged a few hours ago, you were starting to actually like him, no matter how scary that felt. And you would fulfill your promise to him - you would help him get through the amnesia.

But you couldn’t get the image of him and Park Yi-Jae out of your head. So even though it hurt more than anything else in the world, more than when you had broken your collarbone falling down a hill, more than all of Hye-Bin’s words and “pranks” combined, you decided to lie.

“There was a girl visiting you earlier,” you began as you felt your hand clutch harder around your phone. “Do you remember her? Slim and pretty, with short, curly brown hair.”

He frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she was just as weird as the guys.”

“You and she were--are in a relationship,” you went on while you inwardly prayed that you sounded convincing. “A romantic relationship. She is your girlfriend, Jungkook.”

“My… girlfriend?” The furrow between his brows deepened. “I don’t remember anything about a girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“Park Yi-Jae,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That’s the thing with amnesia,” you said with a voice you hoped sounded light and playful, at least in his ears. “You loved each other very much.”

“So you’ve seen us together?”

You forced yourself not to grit your teeth in anger. “Yes, I have. Just yesterday. You looked very happy together.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He simply held your gaze, his eyes trusting yet suspicious.

“If you say so,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I better leave now,” you said as you broke away. “I’ll be back sometime late afternoon with clothes and food. Call your parents if you want to be a bit helpful meanwhile.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Yeah.”

You left before he could add anything to prolong the conversation. You didn’t want to be there any longer. Still, though it pained you, you were proud of yourself. You had chosen the right option.

Yeah, sure you had.

Down by the front desk, you met Kim Sejin while he was purchasing some coffee from an old beverage machine. You doubted he had gotten much sleep, judging by the still present bags underneath his eyes, and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“He’s awake, hungry and probably a bit tense,” you greeted him with. “He’s not exactly convinced about the whole thing, but he has agreed to let me try and help him.”

“I’m afraid I have worse news,” he said grimly. “I spoke with a specialist just now, and he told me there’s a big chance that Jungkook won’t ever regain all of his memories.”

“That's not the worst thing in the world,” you replied, furrowing your brows. “He could have died.”

“Yes but with the situation being the way it is now, I don’t think Jungkook will ever be able to perform again, at least not with the rest of the kids. The director is already considering kicking him out of the group.”

“Why?” you exclaimed. “It’s not like he’s lost a leg or his mind or something - he can still dance or sing or whatever else you need him to do!”

You ignored the sharp look a nurse sent you as she hurried past. You were fuming. Here they were, this large company that probably made a fortune out of these seven guys - out of Jungkook. And they were just dropping him as soon as something - an accident - occurred?

“They just launched their biggest tour yet,” Sejin explained in a calm voice, though he also seemed disappointed. “The company poured a lot of money and planning into this. The boys are supposed to perform on a lot of shows and be on programs as well. But how are we - or anyone at all -  supposed to work with a kid who refuses to cooperate with people he doesn’t know? Who can’t seem to recall a single song or performance with his members? And don’t make it anything personal - the director is desperate not to lose him.”

“But what are you going to do without him?” you wondered. From what you had heard from Se-Eun, Jungkook was one of the most significantly popular members of the group, which probably meant his mere presence generated quite the revenue. And judging by yesterday’s concert, he had the most lines in their songs overall.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, probably considering the same things as you. “They might make it, they might not. Chances are, however, that without Jeon Jungkook, the Bangtan Boys will disintegrate.”

You placed your hand against your forehead and exhaled. You weren’t sure exactly what the idol life consisted of, but you had caught bits and pieces from Se-Eun whenever she rambled with her friends about the group. It wasn’t what you would have chosen to spend your youth doing. It just seemed too risky.

And now, all of Jungkook and his hyungs’ accumulated effort from years of work, promotion and practice could crumble.

His childhood dream could crumble.

“I’ve grown too fond of them to let it end just like this, though.”

You shook your head to clear it from your brief reverie. “What can you do?” you asked, hearing a budding idea in his tone.

“I think I can convince the director to cancel most of the concerts,” said Sejin as he scratched his stubble. “Though it might be a little tricky, it won’t be impossible or detrimental to the company since the money is best in Japan, which is where the tour ends. If the kid could somehow perform by then, I might still have a job tomorrow.”

“But as you said, he can’t and won’t cooperate with anyone,” you pointed out. “Not even with medical personnel.”

Sejin drank from his coffee cup, then grimaced. It had probably gotten cold from all your talking. “The doctor told me there is an unorthodox way of reintroducing memories to a person with any kind of memory loss. Unorthodox because it isn’t scientifically proven and because, more often than not, it fails and proves fruitless.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You really are a great friend,” he said, giving you an odd look of sympathy. “All of this relies on your ability to remind him of his life before the accident. Since you’re the only one he trusts, he might be more receptive to you showing and telling him about the other boys, their music and their performances. All and anything that might cause it to fall in place inside his head.”

“This sounds like a movie trope or something,” you said skeptically.

“As I said, it’s unorthodox. But it’s all we really have. There are no known cures or proper treatments for amnesia.”

“Very well then.” You managed a smile even though you felt the heavy mantle of responsibility weighing your shoulders down. “I’ll try. I have at least until the end of the year on me, right?”

Sejin’s expression fell and he groaned. “Damn it, I forgot you don’t know their schedule like the back of your hand.”

“What is it?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

Tension and trepidation already tightened your throat, but your heart was beating steadily. When you had offered to help Jungkook that night, you had known it would be tough. And as the conversation with Kim Sejin had continued, you had had a feeling that whatever he was going to say would be the opposite of good. Still, you hadn’t lost faith in Jungkook’s recovery. Even now, looking at his manager, you knew it would be bad since his face said as much.

But you had never thought it would be this bad.

“The beginning of the end of their tour starts May 30th. That means you only have a little more than three months to restore him, (Y/N).”

[blackvelvetwriteson]

Hey dear, it's me again, I wanted to say that I LOVED Holiday blues, it was so cute and I wonder if you could write a nsfw sequel, please? (only if you feel comfortable with it, otherwise feel free to ignore it).

Hi again! I love seeing your requests in my ask box it makes me feel amazing! I’m so glad you liked my writing, it means more to me than I can even express! I’ve got that request for you in; it was supposed to be done yesterday, but my tics were kicking in and I couldn’t concentrate- I hope this didn’t disappoint, and again thank you so much!

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

                                  (  ~ Kakashi Hatake x Black Female                                                                   Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Naruto Shippuden

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUTTY! Kakashi’s not too kinky, but for today we have a breeding kink at play and light choking. It’s not too hardcore, but it’s still worth mentioning!

SUMMARY: This is a continuation of PART ONE and this time, Reader-Chan and Kakashi spend some time together after decorating the house for the holiday season.

Find Part 1 Here

WORD COUNT: 7572

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

      You relished in seeing your boyfriend’s sleeping face before you walked back into the kitchen. In truth, you’d already started dinner since hotpots were generally dishes that took too long to make. You sashayed into the kitchen and turned the heat up a little before skipping to a small closet you had where you’d hidden some holiday decorations; candles, tinsel, wreaths, and statues of little angels in a small box, your eyes gleaming as you bit your lip excitedly. You kneeled beside the box still in your boyfriend’s getup, happy that he wasn’t pissed at you for wearing his clothes, smiling because you figured out that he was in his funk because he hadn’t been sleeping well. You moved quickly to make sure everything got done so that you could go pumpkin hunting, or maybe you’d ask Sasuke or Naruto to go see if there were any that even grew in this region, I mean “Village Hidden in the Leaves,” should have plenty of different plants and such right? You giggled softly to yourself as you took out a string of lights that you’d never gotten to use and you plugged them in and stretched them out completely, watching all of the purples and blues, magenta, orange, reds and yellows glow and illuminate your living room, though they couldn’t compete with how your bright smile beamed around the room. “Woah,” you whispered softly as you gently touched the dull tips of the lights, watching the reflection on your hand.

“I forgot how much I loved these things,” you laughed softly looking in the box, seeing how many more lights you had than everything else. “…. Apparently,” you say quietly as you bite your lip. You move immediately to playing holiday music quietly as to not disturb your sleeping boyfriend, and then you get to work after checking the hotpot which was still simmering quite nicely under its cover giving the house scents of sweetened soy sauce, garlic, meats and other ingredients. You danced around happily to “Mary Did You Know,” even though you weren’t necessarily religious, the holiday music of the time really brought out your festive interior designing skills. You skip over to your open window as the skyline turns purple and blue with the seafood greens fading a little more prominently now. You kneeled down and waved at the kids who loved to observe you- mostly because you were so nice to them and actually interacted with them- and they giggled and grinned, waving back in return, deciding to stay a little longer just to watch. They could smell your dinner and one of them even approached as you climbed on your window sill, weaving the first strand of lights through the curtain rod deciding that you’d add more later if needed. You swayed your hips to the music startled by one of the small voices and you looked down with a closed eye grin. 

“Hey there! What can I do for ya today sweetheart,” you chime out happily as you look at the little girl and she smiles back up at you. 

“U-Um oh yeah! Mrs. Hatake- Sensei,” she said softly and your eyes widened a little as you shook your head.

“Oh, u-uh honey that’s not necessary. We ai… We’re not married- yet,” you say softly. She nodded and corrected herself.

“R-Right… I-I’m sorry,” she said softly as she tilted her head. “How’s Ms. Hatake- Chan?” She looked up at you cautiously before proceeding. You gently pet her head and smiled a little, wiping a little bit of glitter off of her cheek with your thumb. 

“That’s just fine sweetheart. What’s up?” You say softly as you sit down on the window sill with your feet hanging out of the window. “Just remember to keep it down y’all,” you say softly as you slowly moved one finger over your lips. “Kakashi -Sensei is sleeping right now,” you said cheerily while the other kids approached and surrounded you. 

“O-Oh I just wanted to say that y-your dinner smells really good,” she said softly starting to scratch behind her ear under her pigtails. “A-And I was also wondering what’s that?” She pointed inside at the tinsel. 

“Oh that?” You looked over your shoulder and smiled a little. “I’m just working on decorating the house… I mean… For the h-holidays. Where I’m from this is what we do and Kakashi- Sensei is letting me do it after a talk we had,” you say with a sweet smile as she nuzzles your lap. You gently pet her head while looking at the other kids. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads about a thing I’m gonna have something for all of y’all here soon. Actually,” you say with a soft grin, leaning forward as they gathered around. “Y’all can help me out right now. Y’all ever heard of a pumpkin,” you ask as you tilt your head. Only about 3 of them nod, the rest of them stared at you blankly ready to help you however you needed. “Y’all go with these three, they’ll show you, I promise. I’mma need about 4 or 5 of them, so if y’all work together and get some, I’ll have special treats for y’all by tomorrow night,” you say with a soft grin. Instantly they grouped up and set off in search of the pumpkins you needed all shouting “ARIGATO MS. HATAKE- CHAN,” at you over their shoulders once they were far enough away they thought they wouldn’t disturb Kakashi’s sleep. You watched until they were out of eyeshot, sliding back in your home and skipping over to the tinsel pile. You looked it all over and took a white tinsel string in your fingers, gently massaging the soft materiel through your fingers before hopping back up on the window sill, gently weaving the strand through the lights so none was obstructing the other. 

“Ooh this is so pretty,” you whisper softly as you finished braiding the tinsel and the lights with the curtain rod, hopping down and dancing around a little more as the song changed to one you haven’t heard since you were little about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. You giggled again and gently twirled around the living room with a red string of tinsel and sashayed over to your fireplace, setting it up so that you could place candles on the counter inside of the tinsel. You also decided, while you were at it, to spark up your  fireplace and turn your music up just a little. Your house already started to look more festive and you decided that, for the moment, you were done with the lights and tinsel so you didn’t overdo it. You gathered up some candles and some of the angel statues and you smiled as you hopped back over to your fireplace, setting the candles up in such a way that there was a fall one after a winter one surrounding the three angel statues you put up. You stroked their porcelain cheeks with your nail and hummed softly as you smiled a little. You sighed quietly as you hummed sweetly to the song, sparking up a couple of the fall oriented candles, not noticing that Kakashi had walked out of the room and closed the curtains and was now leaning against the wall staring at you with his arms crossed. You still swayed your hips slowly, deciding that there was a strip that could benefit from an extra string of lights, and because of said thought you made your way over to the box again, gently unrolling it and plugging it in. This time they were more neutral cream colored, your eyes glistening at the soft glow. “Woah,” you whispered softly as you wrapped the lights around your body and looked for something that you could stand on and a couple of sticky anchors that wouldn’t be too hard to take down after the fact. You licked over your bottom lip and hummed softly trying to look around for a chair. 

Meanwhile, Kakashi had followed you closely and quietly, smirking a little, gently kissing your neck, taking you by the lights and pulling you back into him. You jump a little before you hear his voice and you smiled a little.

“K-Kashi,” you whined softly as you tried to fight your way out of the lights but you were tangled and you didn’t want to mess anything up. “Y-You’re s’posed to be sleeping,” you say as you look over your shoulder and peer at his vague smirk. “What’s that look for? So help me, I’ll force your ass back into bed,” you say with a slight pout.

“Shhh, baby,” he hushed softly as he kissed your neck again, gently allowing his teeth to graze your neck. Then he started to speak again, kisses punctuating every other word. “You know… I did get some sleep though… Right,” he said as his hands made his way to your hips and he pulled you in more. “You’re… Still wearing my clothes,” he said softly as he nipped at your ear.

“Y-Yea so? What about i-it,” you said shakily trying to stifle your soft whimpers. “Why aint you asleep again? Wet dream or something,” you tease before he nodded.

“Actually, yes. It started as nightmares… Then I eased myself back to sleep after reading a book… Then I started thinking about you and I woke up grinding against a pillow,” he said bluntly causing your skin to burn with a practically scalding invisible blush. 

“I-IT WAS A JOKE,” you said as you turned your face away from him to hide as if he could see your blush even if he wanted to. 

“Was it? Oh… Well, I wasn’t joking,” he said softly as he pressed his bulge against you and your legs started to shake a little. “Can you feel it? This is what you wanted.. Right,” he asked as he turned your head to look at him and his vague smirk grew a little less vague. 

“K-Kakashi! B-Behave yourself,” you tried to command as you bit on the inside of your cheek. “D-Dinner should b-be done soon and I have kids that should be back soon… I asked them to pumpkin hunt for me,” you say as you fight your way out of his arms. “Can you please untangle me so I can go check our hotpot,” you ask as you spin on your heel and look at him. He just stands there with a challengingly teasing stare and then he walks over to the couch, tilting his head some. 

“I’m sleepy, baby,” he said in that deep raspy voice he took on when he was both tired and turned on. You were practically dripping just hearing him talk, and as much as you would have loved to hop on him right there, you had to behave yourself. He stared at the fireplace and ran his fingers through his fluffy icy white hair and turned the TV on but had it on mute so you could listen to your music. “Everything looks good though.”

“…. Fine if you wanna be like that,” you grumble before looking around for something and you spot a small cup on the counter. “Substitution Jutsu,” you mumble under your breath, making the hand sign needed just barely before you took the place of the cup and the cup was in the tangle of lights. “You aint gotta be like that,” you say softly as you move to untangle the lights, extremely relieved that the cup was empty. You sighed softly and looked over at where your future husband sat on the couch, just waiting a moment to stare at him. 

He had a pillow in his lap and his breaths were shaky and labored. You should’ve known that he’d take care of it himself, as he wasn’t much of a fighter when it came to things like this. He was too dense to realize when you wanted him and when you didn’t in actuality, and as a result, he never pushed because he never wanted you to be uncomfortable. He was only halfway paying attention to the TV, his eyes fluttering as he bit his lip and rutted his hips up into the pillow. His eyes glistened as he let out a sort of loud moan, his fingers digging into the cushion, his legs trembling a little as he moaned out your name sort of forgetting you were there in the same room as him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he tried to edge himself. You just sat there with butterflies erupting in your stomach, feeling your nipples get a little hard and press against your bra, and without even checking you knew that you were already completely soaked just hearing his smoky tone as he called out for you and only you. 

You pulled yourself out of your trance before going to check on your dinner, catching an earful of Kakashi orgasming on the couch, his breathing stalled as he broke out in a fit of small moans that were a bit whinier than usual and you noticed that they were also a little louder. You bit your lip before looking down at all of the boiled ingredients and sniffed it causing your eyes to water a little. “Goddamn,” you whispered softly as there were excited knocks on the door. “Perfect timing because dinner just finished,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking all of the perverse thoughts out of your head before hopping to the door. “Hey babes,” you say to all of the kids as you kneel down to their height. Each one of the kids carried a big pumpkin and a little one. “Oh my goodness! Look at all of these pumpkins,” you say with teary excited eyes. You thought for a moment before looking over your shoulder at Kakashi who was standing over you with a sort of aloof grin on his face. “You guys can come in for a moment if you want, just to put the pumpkins inside and say hello to Kakashi- Sensei,” you say as the kids start to shovel in your house looking at the pristine festive wonderland in awe.

“Right there in the pantry will be fine,” you say with a soft giggle as you watch them neatly stack the pumpkins. They all give a bow to Kakashi who, in turn, bows back. The other kids bounded outside with giggles of goodbye to play a little bit longer on their way home while two kids lingered back in the house hearing Carol of the Bells playing in your home.

“W-What’s this?” The little girl says softly as she looks over her shoulder at you. 

“Oh this? This is music… I hear you and your friends singing and chanting all the time… But this is a holiday song, actually it’s one of my favorites,” you say with a sheepish grin as you take the girl and her brother by the hand. Here, you guys can take a look around if you’d like,” you say softly as you look over at Kakashi. He just watched with that formal and withdrawn expression he usually carried, pulling his mask up once more around others. You led them into the living room and smiled a little at everything as the two kids looked around the room with dropped jaws.

You twirled the girl and she giggled as she stumbled into you and she looked up at you. You twirled the boy and he laughed softly as he looked around and then you started to sing, his eyes locked on you as you started to dance around with them in the living room.

“Hark how the bells sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away,” you sing quietly as you dance with the children who were giggling and swaying and with you. Kakashi had heard you singing before but only in soft mumbles, but as he heard you now singing and teaching the song to the children in the room, he felt a pang in his chest, his breath drawn from him, his eyes widening a little as he watched you dancing with the kids in your house. 

“Merry merry merry Christmas, merry merry merry Christmas,” you giggle softly as you sing and the kids mimic you laughing and spinning around the room as you smile wide at the kids and your eyes fall to Kakashi to see if he was irritated or if he wanted you to wrap your little encounter up but you just saw his starstruck eyes absolutely adoring you as you started to dance around with a soft twinkle in his eye, an opaque smile on his face. You grin at him and lift the little girl onto your shoulders, her legs draped over your shoulders as she looked down at you dancing with her brother. Kakashi took the sight in and he sucked in a sharp breath trying to keep himself calm, wishing that these village kids were his own with you as his wife. He looked down at his feet and he listened to the chiming giggles and your soothing singing voice.

“Yeah! It’s just like that sweetheart,” you giggle as you teach the boy some basic footwork that went along with the song, and as most of the shinobi kids did, he caught on rather quickly and he started to sing having caught onto the song quickly. “Hark how the bells sweet silver bells,” you broke out into a fit of giggles before you could even finish the line. You picked the little boy up in the middle of his spin and twirled with them in the middle of the room letting him rest on your bicep. “Say, have you little ones had dinner yet? I think we have more than enough to share,” you say softly as you kiss the side of the little boy’s head and he looked away.

“N-Not yet… B-But we won’t intrude! We’ll get dinner on our o-“

“Nonsense,” you giggle softly as you dance your way into the kitchen with the both of the kids and grab a couple of bowls out of the cupboard. “We’ll feed you… I know you two don’t take too kindly to sleeping in other people’s homes, but just know that if you guys need a place to stay at least through some rain or through the winter or something, our door is always open to you,” you breathed out quietly as you kissed the side of the girl’s head and the little boy’s cheek, spooning a bit of the hotpot into the bowls for the both of them, leaving the heat on simmer. “When’s the last time y’all had a MEAL to eat,” you questioned as you grabbed out two pairs of chopsticks and took them over to the table and set them down in their chairs, their eyes sparkling as they accepted your chopsticks. You gently run your fingers through their hair before looking up at Kakashi. You walk over and lead him over to the table as well, pulling a chair out for him and gently pushing him to sit into it. You walk back to the kitchen, the center of his attention as the kids started to poke around their bowls with salivating mouths. “Well… I m-mean I guess it’s been awhile,” they both whispered before taking small bites. 

Meanwhile, Kakashi’s eyes were locked on you, his eyes sparkling as he watched you make his bowl, his mind running. It raced with how natural you looked with kids, how when you walked he could tell that you could do everything on your own. He adored everything about you, how you don’t look at him like he needs to save you, with how you seem to always have a level head about anything and everything, how selfless and compassionate you were; especially when it came to the kids of the village. He let out a dreamy sigh as you walked back over to him with his bowl and a pair of chopsticks in hand. You giggled softly as you caught onto the gaze realizing this was one of the first times you were able to show him how good you were with kids. You set the bowl in front of him, handed him the chopsticks, hugged him from behind and gently kissed his cheek. “Let me know how everything tastes, alright? I’m not used to making Japanese foods, but I think I’m gettin’ a little bit of the hang of it,” you giggled softly as Kakashi leaned forward. 

“That’s false. She’s an amazing chef,” he ‘whispered’ to the kids and they both giggled and nodded in agreement. Your heart swelled as you squeezed his shoulders gently and made your way back to the kitchen to prepare your own bowl. Like with everything you do, you did it with tact, your eyes glistening as you did so, quickly skipping to the table to meet with everybody else. Like usual, you took your seat next to Kakashi, one of your legs in your lap as you bow a little.

“Itadakimasu,” you whisper softly before stirring everything up, gently scooping up some food and nibbling on it with glistening eyes. “Oh wow… I don’t know how it should taste, but I think this is pretty good,” you say softly as you look at everyone with your friendly grin. Kakashi nodded a little and kissed your cheek gently. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said in that seductive tone of his. “This is VERY well done… And in this very… Comfortable home… I could get used to this,” he said with a soft grin, kissing your cheek gently, his hand resting on your inner thigh causing your toes to curl a little and your breath to waver. 

“W-Well… I’m glad you like it, baby,” you say sweetly, kissing his forehead before pushing his head away so he could eat. The kids giggle as they quickly continue to shovel their food in their mouths, mumbling softly with mouthfuls of food in their mouths. “Hark how the bells sweet silver bells,” they managed to mumble before giggling softly. “I’m never gonna stop saying that,” the girl said quietly. You tilted your head a little and bit your lip a little before speaking up, brushing your curly hair out of your face. The glow cast through the home gave your skin a sort of golden aura and Kakashi couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He bit his lip and continued to eat, that same distant expression on his face upon first glance. You looked at the kids and your heart melted at how they teased each other, how they were so close because they didn’t necessarily have anywhere else to go. 

“You both are precious,” you say under your breath as you noticed they were close to finished eating. “Did y’all want some more or are you both good to go?” You stood up and grabbed their bowls and took them over to your sink, grabbing down 2 thermos jars and 4 large mason jars, filling every container to the brim with the remainder of the hotpot.

“I think we’re okay Ms. Hatake-Chan,” the boy said softly as he hopped down and he helped his sister out of the chair. They made their way to the door and you stopped them with frowning faces, kneeling in front of them with the armful of containers you prepared for them. “H-Huh?”

“Do you little ones have names,” you asked softly as you looked at each of them in the eye. They both shook their head and you sighed softly. “Alright… How about you,” you point to the girl. “We call you Lily-Chan because you’re as pretty as water lilies,” you say and that causes her to giggle and play with her fingers. “And you,” you pointed to the boy. “How ‘bout we call you… Sora- Chan, because Sora means universe in Japanese if I’m remembering correctly… And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, in this universe that’s greater than you,” you say softly as you kiss their foreheads gently and slide the thermoses and the mason jars in their bags. “I hear it’s supposed to be cold tonight, so you guys take care of yourselves,” she said as they both fought back tears. Lily and Sora stood side by side and bowed holding their hands and sniffing quietly.

“Arigato gozaimasu Ms. Hatake- Chan,” they said softly and you picked their heads up to make them look at you. 

“You’re very welcome darlings,” you said quietly as you fluffed their hair and opened the door for them and smiled watching them walk out of your home. You made sure to wait until they were out of eyeshot and then you closed the door and looked over your shoulder at Kakashi who’s arms were crossed as he stared at you. 

“You’re… So… Amazing,” he said slowly as he pulled his mask down and moved his icy white hair out of his face so that you could see him completely. 

“W-Well… I mean… It’s just being a decent h-human being and caring for them kids.. I always do anyways… And it looked like they hadn’t been eating. I didn’t invade space d-did I? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own home either. 

“No no no,” he said softly as he took you by the waist and pulled you closer. “If anything it made me realize that much more how bad I want to have a family with you,” he said before pressing a soft kiss into your plush lips, his tongue wasting no time, swiping over your bottom lip, soft groans escaping his lips. You whimpered softly, gently pushing your hands against his chest, allowing him to have the lead. He pushed you into the door and he bit your lip more rough than he had before. You whined as you ran your hand down his side and his back on down to his thigh, trying to force his leg in between yours. He smirked against your lips, his breathing slow and labored, soft growls threatening to spill out, his eyes halfway opened staring at you. His leg slipped in between yours and you immediately started to grind against his leg, his breathing only picking up a little, his free hand now running up your shirt, unclipping your bra in one slick move, his hand gently groping your chest as he let out low moans. His enthusiastic hand worked at teasing your nipples, his teeth bore at you a little as he watched you grinding needily against his stocky thigh. “You like that? Hm? G-Grinding on Sir’s thigh like that,” he said as he jolted his leg up into your cunnie causing your back to arch as you let out a soft cry. 

“Answer me, baby,” he said softly as he bit his lip, one of his hands moving to grip your neck, his finger squeezing a little as he growled near your ear. “And tell me how much you want me inside of you,” he growled before he bit the shell of your ear causing you to gasp, your core hot as you felt you became even more soaked, your lip quivering to the point that you could barely even answer.

“I-It feels so good, f-fuck~ K-Kakashi,” you whined softly, gripping to his shirt. “Baby!~ F-Fuck- P-Please keep teasing my nipples like that, sir,” you whispered softly looking up at his keen gaze staring into you. “I-I want t-to feel you inside of me,” you whined softly before reaching to kiss him again wanting to feel his satiny smooth tongue in your mouth again. You felt extremely needy, your legs damn near giving out under you. “Baby!” You threw your head back and leaned into him, your hips jolting into him, his eyes glistening as he looked you over. He picked you up and took you over to the couch, tossing you on the couch before crawling on top of you, gripping your neck again and pushing you into the couch as he peered down at you. He started to grind into you wanting your legs to pull him closer, trying to fight through his sensitivity just to please you. He couldn’t wait too much longer, however, lifting the shirt you stole from him, his lips locked around your nipple as he lazily pushed his pants down and he pulled yours down too, one hand kneading your breast as his fingers pushed themselves in between your legs, his slender fingers plunging into your tight dripping hole. Your back arches a little and you let out a loud whine as your legs’s hold on his hips firm a little and he smirked a little, the tips of his fingers stroking against your special spot without any effort from him, and every single time his fingers curled up, your toes curled too, and so did your back. Within minutes, the accuracy of his fingers; the pressure, the stroke of his fingers, the way it swiped right against your sweet spot; had you a babbling drooling mess underneath him and the only thing that you could mumble out was “Sir please,” and “More!” He felt how you clenched around him, slowly and surely losing control of your babbles, whines, and loud moans, already practically crying because of how overstimulated that g-spot of yours it. Your legs were trembling and already you were teetering on the edge of cumming for him, but you wanted to hold out for him. He saw how much you were struggling with just his fingers and with one swift movement you were sitting on his face, one leg hanging off of the couch. 

OH, it’d been awhile since THIS had happened. 

You couldn’t even ask a question or catch your breath before you felt his slick slippery tongue enter you, probing your insides to find that spot you loved to have stimulated so much. Your thick thighs suffocated him practically, but you didn’t care, his shaky breath against your drenched throbbing pussy only added to the feeling. Your back arched with each time his tongue fell flat against your slit and lapped up every single las drop of your juices, pushing hard against your clit before diving deep inside of you once again, sucking you down before cleaning you up again, repeating the process all over again. Each time, your leg jolted, your abs tightened, your nails dug into his thighs- making his cock twitch in his pants just for you- and you threw your head back trying to keep your moans quiet but failing. “K-KAKASHI! P-Please I ca-can’t take a-anymore o-or I’ll go c-crazy,” you whined out loudly as you started to bounce a little on his face, your whole body tremoring as you came over his face and his tongue. He decided that a soft laugh and his teeth gently nipping and tugging at your clit would be perfect for the moment and all you could do was orgasm, your eyes widening before clamping shut, your breaths drawn out, your hips grinding into his face, your hand squeezing and stroking at his bulge causing him to push his airy soft moans into your pussy as his tongue continued to circle and plow at your insides. He loved how it felt to have you clenched around his tongue, and he loved especially how it felt to have your throbbing clit grinding into him, your hand pleasing him as he tongue fucked you. All of his lewd noises made it back to you, his slurping, his moans, and the faint drunken mumbles of your name he managed in between bites and sucks, the way his tongue stirred you up making you practically fall apart on the same couch he pleased you on. At this point, you were still cumming, and you couldn’t stop, but the fact that he wouldn’t let up either was new so you weren’t quite sure how to handle it. Your body tried to jerk away from him, your hips jolting up and away from him, your tears streaming down your face as you mumbled please over and over and over again wanting him to stop but wanting more at the same time. He only responded with a harsh slap to your ass before locking his arms around your waist and holding you down on him while he finished basking in your flavor. You figured the only way to get him to stop was to return the favor, so while he was busy eating you out, you took his cock in your hands, sucking on the plush tip that was dripping with precum already. He let out a soft moan into your cunnie and you felt his back arch under you, his cock twitching in your hands as you swirled your flat tongue around his tip to collect any of the escaping precum, your fingers steady stroking the rest of his length, your fingers feeling out every single vein and detail as you continued to try and jerk your hips away from Kakashi’s face. You couldn’t help but to let your moans and harsh breaths dance on his cock as you pleased him and he pleased you. You completely ate his flavor up, your eyes glistening before they shut and you continued to ride his tongue. You sucked hard, your cheeks hollowing out causing his back to arch even more, his dull nails trying to work into your thighs as you teased him by the inch, your tongue pressing him into the roof of your mouth which drove him absolutely insane. He whined out as his legs jerked a little, his arms not budging with letting you go. 

“Please,” you whine softly. “I-Inside,” you slurred out as you took him all the way down your throat, gagging around him, making sure your throat choked his cock out. His eyes glistened as he looked down at you, gagging and choking on his dick, his hips jolting trying to get in deeper but he couldn’t. It got to the point where you felt you were going to pass out so you stopped and came up for air, your soft whines barely audible to him. You tried your best to hold your noises but you couldn’t, squeaking as he pushed you forward a little. He hugged onto you as he slid himself inside, his lips pushing out his soft shuddery moan into your ear as you arched your back and slowly started to push yourself back on him. He already felt like he was going to pass out just from how well your throat choked his cock out and you couldn’t help but to bury your face into the couch as Kakashi gyrated his strong hips, grinding you into the palatial cushion. You couldn’t help but to push yourself back against him, even the slow pace he was known for about to make you cum again. He reached deep inside of you, and you forced him to go even deeper as you grinded your hips against him. He reached under your hair and grabbed your neck from behind, squeezing gently as he leaned forward again to nibble at your ear, whispering sweetly to you, your eyes barely even able to stay open. You clenching around him made him see stars, practically drooling over you, but while you couldn’t keep it together, he had to in order to drive you all the way to home base with pleasure. 

“Do you l-like it like this,” he whispered quietly in your ear, his labored breaths and soft moans melted into your ear again as he slowed down even more, his hips still strong as he reached inside of you. “H-Hm? A-Answer me, Blossom,” he commanded as he pulled your hips against him and held you in place feeling your slick riding all the way down his cock, his back arching a little. 

“P-Please, Sir,” you whine out quietly barely even able to speak that’s just how braindead you were from how much pleasure you were receiving. “M-More! N-Need… More,” you gasped out and he smirked with a soft hum of approval, his hands gripping the arm of the couch now as his legs became a little more stable and solid, his lips still touching your ear, his teeth nibbling away at the outer shell, his eyes glistening as he edged himself at your expense. You looked over your shoulder at him and he truly looked like a divine icon; the way he started to rock into you, a small bulge forming in your stomach because of it, the way every single one of his muscles flexed with even the smallest move, the way that the candles, fireplace, and the faint light from the TV cast a glow on him that was unmatched, carving his features out more, his body blanketed by a body of sweat, his expression quirked with how well you clenched around him. 

“I want you,” he mumbled softly in your ear, his speech and breathing short and choppy as he pounded into you a bit quicker, not meaning to be as rough as he was. “I w-want to e-expand our family,” he breathed out as his moans became more needy, his hips slapping against yours sloppily. Honestly, this was the fastest he’d ever fucked you, and at this point you were stuck seeing stars with your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your golden glow cast by the lights around you only making Kakashi more aroused. It was obvious that he was way more vulnerable, you could hear it in his moans, feel it in every single movement that he made, you saw it in the way that one of his hands moved from death gripping at the arm of the couch to tenderly slap, tug, and caress your beautiful brown skin. Tendrils of his hair fell just before his eyes, his eyes halfway closed, his body encompassing your own as you both fell into a quick rhythm. Your body was on fire with his next words, your eyes widening and glistening with tears that fell down your cheeks from how good he was making you feel; “I-I want to ma-marry you,” he groaned out in a choked moan before he slowed to an almost stop and he turned your head towards him, gently pressing his lips against yours again, his hand riding your side as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers feeling over your soft stomach, all the way up to grope at your chest so gently, even as your back still arched up into him. You both were a mess of moans, drooling over each other as you tangled your tongues, your teeth nipping at one another gently, your hand on one of his, your eyes now completely closed as he pushed you into the couch more, your clammy bodies trembling against one another before pulling away just to stare at each other.

“Please,” he said softly as he started to pound into you again. “I’m g-going to cum… D-Don’t look away from me,” he said softly, his glazed eyes holding back tears as he gritted his teeth a little. “I want t-to look in your eyes as w-we watch each other… F-Fall apart,” he choked out quietly, towering over you, tilting your head up so that you were staring at him. He fed you sloppy kisses as he pushed against your special spot, and it took another hard clench from you to send him orgasming again, his teeth clamping down on your lip before he pulled away, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his body quaking and vibrating the whole couch as he allowed his body to tense up, his hips to slam into you one final time, sharply chasing after air that didn’t want to come down, choked moans leaving him, his lips barely brushing against yours as he reached his climax, painting your insides white as they overflowed with his cum. Your own body gave out as you came, pressing your body up against his, your nails digging into his hand, your eyes crossing as you drooled out, screaming out his name, your trembling body falling against the couch as you allowed Kakashi to gently and slowly ride out his high, every single stroke hitting you at a different angle making your body twitch and tingle before you felt him pull out. He watched his cum mix with yours as it spilled out of you and he smiled at the bulge he could feel with his tender fingers as he caressed your body. He laid down behind you, his muscular body now completely relaxed as he just tried to catch his breath. He looked up at the movie playing on TV, spooning you from behind, covering the both of you with the throw that you decorated the couch with earlier. His strong arms made you feel protected, and when you were like this, both of your guards were let down and you let the love that you had for one another protect you both. His fingers danced over your skin and he moved your hair as he gently fed you kisses to your neck, your shoulder, and the top of your back as you absentmindedly played with his fingers and watched the movie that was on TV; which by the way was Home Alone. 

“I meant what I said,” Kakashi chimed sweetly in your ear and suddenly those butterflies were back in your stomach. “I want to marry you, Blossom,” he whispered softly. “I want you to be the mother of my kids… I want to spend the entire rest of my life with you,” he said softly, sounding like he was about to cry. You heard his breath shake and you could tell his sincerity and that made your heart absolutely melt for your man. 

“I would absolutely love to be Mrs. Kakashi Hatake,” you say softly, leaning your head back into his body, your eyes peering at him from below. He looks down at you, a blush nipping at his cheeks as you giggle softly, your hand reaching up to caress his tensed jaw. “And I would love to mother your children… I want you,” you echoed back to him softly, a small smile showing itself as he held your hand against his face. He couldn’t do anything but allow himself to truly fall apart, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let himself cry quietly, still kissing your shoulder and neck whenever he could. “Aww… My beautiful boyfriend,” you whispered softly, gently playing in his hair as he wept into you, clinging to you, trembling, completely emotional, raw, and vulnerable. You adored that he trusted you enough to show this other side of himself to you, and you also relished in his confessions to you, having never been told such sweet things before. “Is that what you were thinking about when I was taking care of Lily and Sora,” you ask sweetly, smiling at him over your shoulder. He looks up at you with puffy red eyes, smiling just a hint as he nodded at you. 

“It’s just… How you… Always look after people, especially kids I just… I admire it a great deal Blossom,” he said softly as you giggled. “You invited them into your home, and danced around with them… And fed them and gave them food… And opened your home up to them…. I can’t just… Ignore that. Especially because you’re the life of this village,” he chimed softly. “I have never seen these people so hopeful or lively… I have never seen the kids so open to playing outside… I have never seen people support each other here like they do now until you got here and spread a little bit of your magic around… And yet nobody takes care of the village kids… Ever. You love them, I can see that, and they love you too. Every day I have people coming to me; ‘hey can you tell Ms. Hatake-Chan thanks for’ this that or whatever,” he said softly, his eyes peering deep into yours and you tried to fight back your own tears. You didn’t realize how much of a role you played in the village because it didn’t even feel like a chore. It was what came natural to you, and you loved that you could create such a difference in just a couple of years. 

“I’m just doing what I love to do,” you whispered softly as you kissed along his jawline. “I love you so much, Kakashi Hatake,” you say as you lull him to sleep again, not wanting to until he was at ease. You sat up a little and allowed him to use your chest as a pillow, his arms still holding you tight, keeping you close, and you never felt more safe. “You’re my king… And I’m your queen… You’re all mine, nothing’s gonna change that,” you whispered softly as you watched his eyes close. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled sleepily, a small half smile creeping on his face as he slipped off into dreamland and you divided your attention between the movie and your sleeping boyfriend wanting to watch both of them over until you allowed your drowsiness to take over completely.

[vampcubus]

Quiet (Midoriya/Reader | Angst)

| A/n: You know there are some days I question how psychotic I have to be to find pleasure in the suffering that comes when writing angst. *le sad*  |

| See part 2 ... here |

✧❀ Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, big sad mood. ❀✧

✧❀ Words: 2800+ ❀✧

| Summary: As Izuku continues to chase his dreams you find yourself being pushed to the side until it seems you’ve been forgotten, and yet you keep quiet. But it seems today that the very person who forgot about you wants nothing more than to talk to you. |

.   .   .

You bit your lip. Buried your teeth into your tongue. Puffed out your cheeks and bit the insides of them. You kept your mouth shut for a long time, perhaps too long you supposed as you watched a familiar head of wild green hair walk past you along with Iida and Ochako.

You held your breath, closed your eyes, clenched your teeth. You wondered if things would have been different had you swallowed your damn fears and said something. Your eyes followed him as far as they could before he was just too far away.

You took in a deep breath and started walking. You had no real idea where; you kept moving until you were stepping inside of a cafe just off-campus. Your ears perked up at the sound of Midoriya’s voice and Ochako’s laughter, followed by a brief lecture from Iida. You turned to see the trio seated in one of the booths.

Midoriya’s face turns to the entrance of the cafe, but you’re already gone.

You close your eyes, knaw at your nails, and roll your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You wait for the pedestrian walk light to show before crossing the street, walking away from the cafe. As you walk, you don’t notice Midoriya looking out the entrance of the cafe. He deflates when he spots you walking away.

Iida and Ochako come up behind Deku to ask him why he’d gotten up so fast.

“I don’t get it, I was certain she went here every day.” Midoriya sighs and Uraraka places a hand on his shoulder. “I even asked Ashido to be sure.”

“Maybe we’ll see her later, don’t give up yet, Deku.” She reassures him, and he puts on a determined face, nodding in agreement.

.   .   .

You strolled into a familiar shop, smiling at the clerk who recognized you straight away, corralling you into an aisle of books with their newest releases. You skim the covers with your eyes, reaching out to pull a book out and flip through the pages every now and then. A book with skeletal cats and a red and black color scheme caught your eye and you picked it up, opening it up to look through it.

In your distracted state, smiling down at the pictures of cats above each page of text, you almost don’t catch three familiar voices as they wander into the shop. Midoriya approaches the front desk and the clerk greets all three of the students, asking what they were looking for. As they are distracted, you shut the book and place it back on the shelf, holding your breath as you discreetly slipped out of the shop, making eye contact with the clerk on your way out who seems to realize what’s going on.

“Actually we’re looking for a friend, we were told she comes through here often,” Midoriya admits sheepishly, hands wringing anxiously as the woman places a hand to her chin as if to think. “Y-you wouldn’t happen to have seen her today have you?”

“Is she the quiet one? Er… L/N, I think it was?” She wonders, and Midoriya perks up at the sound of your name.

“Yes, that’s her!” Deku smiles, eyes bright and hopeful, and the clerk can’t help but smile.

“Well, I’m afraid you just missed her, sorry kid.” She sighs.

“Oh…” Midoriya shrinks a little, clearly dejected by the news. And once again, Ochako comforts him, a hand on his back as he wracks his brain for another solution. “Well, she couldn’t have gone far, right?”

The three exit the store in search of the ghost of you.

.   .   .

You arrive at your final routinely spot of the day, smiling at the blissfully unoccupied picnic table tucked away at the edge of the park just by the forest, separated by a leaning chain-link fence. You look up at the dimming sky, the slight smell of rain and wood calming your nerves. You slide onto the rotting-wooden bench of the picnic table, pulling your knees to your chest in a comfortable balled-up position.

You pull down your hood and pull out your phone, putting in your earbuds and looking up at the sky, watching the sun draw ever closer to setting; waiting for the stars to come out.

Just as the green-haired boy starts to worry that he’s already missed you, he spots your small form at a picnic table at the edge of the park. He lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of you sitting still and not walking away. He gets Iida and Ochako’s attention and points to you, and they look equally relieved to have finally caught up to you after a whole day of hunting.

“Well, I’m afraid this is where we part, Midoriya I hope all goes well with L/N.” Iida salutes and the other two chuckle at their friend’s eccentric behavior.

“Thank you, Iida, I appreciate your help today.” Midoriya thanks him, bowing his head in gratitude and waving at him as he leaves the park to walk back on campus.

Ochako turns to face him and gestures for him to take a deep breath with her, knowing how nervous he must be.

“You’ve got this, Deku, I believe in you!” Uraraka whisper-shouts, raising her hand to offer a fist-pump which he gratefully accepts.

Once Uraraka is out of sight, Midoriya turns around and starts to make his way towards the relaxed shape of you.

“Okay, big breaths…” He mutters to himself as he approaches you, one big ball of anxiety. He stops a few feet away, just to admire you as you watched the sky without a care in the world, a small smile on your lips as your eyes traveled from star to star. “You can do this, Deku.” He tries to pep himself up, though the moment you shift he freezes and almost dashes off.

You uncurl from your ball and stretch your limbs out, turning your head away from the sky to change the song on your phone when you notice a shadow looming over you. You knit your brows together in confusion and turn around, heart leaping into your throat and forcing a gasp from it as you spot Deku a few feet away who stiffens as well when he meets your wide eyes.

You remove your earbuds and pull your knees back up to your chest, mouth opening several times to ask what he was doing here, but each time you clamped it back shut.

“U-Uh h-hey, Y/N-chan! fancy seeing you here I was just looking—p-passing through.” Midoriya babbles with a nervous smile, trying to formulate a proper sentence. Though finally talking to you face-to-face suddenly became more difficult than he remembered. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

You bite your tongue, hold your breath, clench your teeth. Anything to keep the words from spilling. Words you’ve kept down for months.

You can’t just say nothing though.

“Hey, Midoriya.” Is all you can manage before biting down on your tongue again, avoiding his eyes. You know it’s not enough to weasel out of the conversation so you add, “Don’t worry about me, I should be going now anyway.”

Deku’s eyes widened when you got up from the picnic table, shoving your phone in your pocket, ready to leave. He panics, wracking his brain for the right words to say to stop you. Instead, his hand shoots out before he can stop it and grabs your hand.

“No, please don’t go yet!” He blurts out, sounding desperate as you halt all movement and look back at him with wide eyes. Your gaze drifts between his face and his hands as it grasps yours, lips parted in surprise. “I… can we talk for a minute?”

Why? Why does he want to talk now? What could you possibly have that he wants to talk to you about after months of distance, almost a year of growing apart until you had no part in his life?

“Um.” You gesture at his grip on your fingers and he turns bright red, flushing from his neck to his ears. He jerks his hand away from yours and squeezes out a ‘sorry!’

Despite your conscience, the voice telling you to just leave, you sit back down on the rotting bench looking expectantly at him as he stands there.

“Are you going to sit down?” You ask flatly, and the boy jumps with a ‘right’, scrambling to sit down beside you.

It’s quiet.

“Y/N?” Midoriya starts out, and you grimace at the sound, not liking the way each syllable fell from his lips in that nervous voice of his.

“Don’t act like we’re familiar.” You hiss, letting the annoyance slip out into your tone.

He stares for a moment, and you don’t miss the hurt that flashes behind those big green eyes of his. He looks like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Why did it make you feel bad that you had plenty of things to say and he had none?

“We’re… not?” Midoriya asks, the sound small in his throat.

What were you talking about? ‘don’t act like we’re familiar?’ The green-haired boy vividly remembers a time when you were very close, and he was the only one that was allowed to use your first name, the only one that could talk to you longer than five minutes without you closing off. You used to come over for playdates at his house and build blanket forts so you could read All Might comics and share dumb secrets. He can’t think of a time he wasn’t familiar with you, even if you had grown apart since you started high school.

You still kept in touch over text and he invited you over to study every now and then.

But now that he thinks of it, he can’t remember the last time he texted you. He can’t recall the last time you had a meaningful conversation outside or inside of school. But even if you didn’t see each other as much, he still considered you his friend. And he’s been crushing on you since middle school. Have you really become unfamiliar with one another? 

You haven’t been close lately, sure, but hearing you say that hurt his feelings.

“Don’t act surprised.” You groan, looking up at the sky. Did he really expect things to just be okay between you after basically ghosting you for almost a year? “This is the first time you’ve talked to me in months.”

Your words hit him hard, and he can feel the guilt crawling on his skin. He feels sick. He realizes just how true your words are when he tries to remember a time you talked in the past few months but couldn’t. It really has been that long.

“I-I’m sorry about that, I guess I was just… busy trying to become the number one h-hero you know?” He chuckles nervously, offering you a smile, hoping that maybe it would lift your spirits, or at least make you look at him.

“You never seem too busy for Ochako or Iida.” You deadpanned, resting your chin on your hand as you leaned over the picnic table. Midoriya’s eyes widened, and he tried to think of what to say, though he should have picked his words a bit more carefully because the next sentence even makes him wince as soon as it comes out.

“B-But that’s different.” Midoriya stutters, squinting his eyes shut and mentally kicking himself. What kind of excuse was that?

“How is it different?” You asked.

“I…” He couldn’t even answer you. What was he supposed to say? It wasn’t different, you were all in the same class, he had countless opportunities to talk to you and he just didn’t. “I’m sorry, that’s no excuse...”

 He hangs his head low, owning up to it.

“Sorry for what? Not talking to me for months or thinking that you could just walk up to me and be all buddy-buddy again?” You had to admit that it sounded harsh, and perhaps you were being petty, but could he really blame you? You spent most of your childhood only sharing his attention with Kacchan, and suddenly there was no room in his life for you.

“Well, you could’ve talked to me too… you haven’t necessarily been the most sociable either.” He mumbles, twiddling his thumbs together.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault.”

He sits up straight raising his hands defensively as you scowl at him from over your shoulder, the bitterness of your tone sending him into panic mode. He hadn’t meant it that way, he would never blame you for this.

“N-no! That’s not what I meant at all!” Midoriya sputtered. “Y/N please hear me out—”

“L/N.” You corrected and Midoriya felt himself choke on the lump in his throat and the tears start to well up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of you, he’d done that all the time when he was younger, and not once did you hesitate to comfort him no matter what he was crying about. Crying would solve nothing now.

“Y/N please, I-I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. But please don’t do this, you-you’ve always been an amazing f-friend to me, please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered, the tears starting to drip down his freckled cheeks.

“You’re the one who shut me out. Don’t twist things to fit into whatever narrative your imagination has written up.” You hissed.

“I didn’t! You keep saying that like I’m not trying to f-fix this, I care about you, and j-just because you stopped believing it doesn’t make it untrue.” Midoriya insisted.

“Fix what? Our friendship that you forgot about?” You scoffed, putting some distance between you on the bench. The resentment in your eyes as you say it shakes him to the core, terrifying him. The thought of you hating him makes him actually want to throw up, he feels nauseous just thinking about it.

“Please—” He chokes on a sob. “P-please don’t h-hate me, please don’t hate me.”

You stared down at the wooden patterns of the picnic table, trying to ignore the pathetic sobs and sniffles to your right. You hated seeing Izuku cry. You can remember a time you would’ve thrown hands for anyone who made him cry. It bugged you even now that you were the cause of his tears, but you were hurt too and no amount of tears can fix that. You didn’t hate him, you hated that this is what your long-term friendship had come to.

“I haven’t been a part of your life since we started high school, Izuku. Do you have any idea how I felt when we stopped talking? I thought that you were getting bored of me, that somehow I just wasn’t worth your time anymore.” You confessed, feeling the tears start to form in your own eyes. You hastily wiped them with the sleeve of your hoodie.

Midoriya sniffled, ears perking at the sound of his first name tumbling so unexpectedly from your lips. He missed being called Izuku, and he’d always admired the fact that you never stopped using it. He felt more and more terrible with every word that left your lips, letting him in on your perspective, how you had been feeling because of him. 

Bored with you? Never! You were always so important, so unique to him. You were the only one who believed in him before he got a quirk.

“I figured that hey, maybe you were just busy and so I didn’t bother you. I thought that hey, once you’re not so busy you’d call me, or text me, or something. But… you didn’t and I… before I knew it, you had new friends, a new life,” You sniffled, unable to muffle the sound behind your sleeve this time and Izuku’s eyes widened in horror when he realized that you were crying. “Without me.”

Izuku sobbed into his hands, the tears rolling freely as he cried. You looked over at his trembling form, letting your own silent tears dampen your hoodie sleeve. One thing about Izuku that you had always admired was that he was never afraid to express himself. There wasn’t a moment in the world that he was insincere with his emotions, whenever he cried he cried for real. So unlike you and many others, bottling up their emotions and hiding their faces from others.

You couldn’t watch this anymore.

“I-I need to go.” You got up to leave again and Midoriya’s head shot up the moment you moved, teary eyes watching as you stood up. “Goodnight, Midoriya.”

And with that, you walked away. Izuku let his head fall into his hands, he pulled at his hair in frustration, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles started to bruise. He cried harder than he had in a long time, muttering a million sorries into the night in hopes that if he said it enough you’d hear him, and forgive him. 

But just like he did when you waited for him to call, to text, to say something… you stayed quiet.

[i-need-air]

Truthful mess.

Summary: Truth quirk shenanigans. HCs type with Bakugou, Kirishima, Shouto and Shinsou.

Note: Still don't know how to add "Read more" on phone, still need to make a masterlist. At least I have coffee. [I’M DOING BOTH RN, BE PROUD;;;LOOKATTHEReADMORE] Ty for reading! ♥

Bakugou Katsuki:

× well, shit

× he fucked up real bad and now he had to pay for it

× noticed something was wrong when he thanked Kirishima for saving his life instead of giving him the usual snappy attitude

× made the redhead promise to keep the secret or he'll kill him

× seriously kill and incinerate his body and was 100% serious about it

× Bakugou tried his hardest to keep his mouth shut and everything went okay until you just existed in the same room at him

× he'd just get the fuck out because all he wanted to tell you was how good you looked in whatever you were wearing or how beautiful your face was when kissed by the rays of sunshine and he was so confused

× he literally wanted to word vomit all of that

× thankfully the police arresting the mf that did this to him informed Katsuki about the effects of the quirk itself

× approximately 3 days of spilling truths

× he could handle that

× easy

× but not really; the less he talked the more he needed to spill out his mind

× he'd still snap at people, they were just dumb and he voiced that but

× well, hello there, [y/n]

× he prays you don't waltz around him

× life can be a bitch though

× it happened while training, Cementos made an area for each of you to improve your quirks and guess what? you're placed just by his side

× you just waved at him and he ignored you

× asshole much; until you kick-dropped and broke a big piece of cement in half

× "Fuck, that was so sexy..."

× your head turned slowly towards Bakugou because that was his voice, definitely, no doubt

× but it was raspy and low and it did some things to your, ehem, lowers and holy shit

× Bakugou looked like a deer caught in the highlights; he was full "step on me" mode and????????

× instantly turned the other way and yes, he is blushing

× he just couldn't hold it in, man

× so you're confused, blushing, Kirishima is near-by shook as fuck because he's ✨ realizing things ✨ since of course he's now Bakugou's self-proclaimed guard dog

× and Bakugou is back at ignoring you, his friend and the world

× you decide to keep an eye on him because that was not normal and oh my god why is that voice still affecting you? did he seriously say that??

× meanwhile you catch him looking at you from the corner of your eyes

× boy is staring real bad

× so you just go his way

× he panics as you approach him and blows shit up

× "Don't fucking come closer!" you freeze because what the hell? you thought you were getting along? yeah he's been snappy recently but it's Bakugou, he has mood-swings

× but not like this? at least with you?

× also what he said before just gave you hope??

× so you decide Fuck it all and get closer, noticing how Kirishima also approaches, looking like a bodyguard

× you raise your eyebrow because Excuse you?

× "[L/N], you should leave him be for now–"

× "Get out of my way or I'll break you, Kirishima."

× so you're having a staring match with the red-head, almost nose to nose when legit a growl shakes you to the core

× "[Y/N]'s mine, Shitty Hair, back down." he said between his teeth, his palms sparkling, quirk ready

× so his friend backs up, hands raised in defeat but a knowing grin on his face

× even in full shock you expected him to ignore you again but he just stomps towards you angrily, teeth greeted

× "You have a thing for him, hmm? You like Kirishima?" he was glaring at you, breathing heavily but suddenly locked his eyes in your lips

× and while he's throwing this fit or whatever it was, all the class kinda stopped whatever they were doing to see what's going on

× but Cementos ain't having any of that so parts you guys with a cement wall and orders you to keep training

× Bakugou was never more thankful because holy shit what was about to happen?

× you're full mind-blown, remembering his words again and again not even focusing on training; you decide to talk with his dumb ass to clarify what he said and wAs he jealous? i mean he literally said you're his so—... HE FUCKING SAID YOU'RE HIS????

× after that he went back to his grumpy old man form, you don't talk again until days later, although you did try to approach him again, many times, because YOU'RE HIS????????

× it's when he finally realizes the quirk is wearing off and he's relieved because it got to a point where he couldn't sleep

× so when you confront him in the common room the next morning he shrugs it off with a "I thought I'd accidentally confess that I love you and that would've been a problem."

× he freezes

× you freeze

× he wanted to call you a dumbass and move on until he figures his shit up but...

× that's when he realizes the effect of the quirk was dying off in waves

× save him from the mortification and confess too, please?

Kirishima Eijirou:

× he's normally a truthful guy

× but not like this, man, not like this

× Fatgum saved his ass but it was too late since he already got hit by a quirk, although none knew what it was about, so his mentor was having a full Panic moment

× later on he was informed about it's nature and was confused because nothing changed?

× he still compliments people, he's still his old self and is actually so happy that's the case

× thinks he's manly because he's honest about his feelings

× although he forgot about a tiny little detail

× his big fat crush on you

× like he'd blush when you came around, almost stuttered when responding to you, would try harder when you were around because pretty please, notice him, shows off more, all the I-need-YOUR-attention bag

× because he's smooth but in a Kirishima way, you know?

× felt he had zero (0) game [so not manly of him]

× will hands down not avoid you; thinks it's lame to run away from this

× who would've thought this was the best thing that could've happened to him?

× still had his boyish charm, cute smiles, blushes

× but now we add the honest "You look amazing today. Well, more than usual." with a wink because if he can't stop himself, at least he'll make it work big time

× and oh, shit that's doing stuff to your poor heart because his compliments are all over the roof? wth is going on?

× everyone knew about his feelings for you but now they really knew

× literally takes him half a day to spill all out

× he did try to clear his mind of those feelings in class because that would be so awkward and weird; he spent so much time daydreaming how to confess before and doing it there was definitely not the plan, but something more personal and meaningful

× when Kiri saw you in the common room though, alone and minding your own business, a grin broke on his face and had hearts in his eyes

× Bakugou had to hear a lot of shit about you, tho just rolled his eyes; "whatever, shitty hair."

× because you're so flawlessly beautiful and you're not even trying

× your head snaps up at him, blushing

× OOP–did he just blurt that out?

× so he's laughing awkwardly because not like this, man

× but goes with it because We die like men here 😤

× cue word vomit about how great you are and this quirk hit him and god you're amazing and it's not a lie because remember when you first met at UA? well he thought you were an angel and when you smiled at him? perfection and your blushing face is adorable and needs to see it everyday and ok this quirk needs to stop–

× meanwhile

× [Y/N].exe has stopped working

× legit tho, he won't shut the hell up and it's adorable

× all day he's been super smooth about his compliments to you and now he's the sweetest mess ever

× and you only notice yourself smiling when he points it out and says it's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his entire life

× and even if that almost makes you 404 again you laugh and walk towards him

× which he follows and steps closer to you too

× smiling

× so he calms down when you're not freaking out about what he's spilling and goes back to being cha-cha-real-smooth again

× "I want to be able to call you mine"

Todoroki Shouto:

× another guy that doesn't really notice it at first

× he got hit by this weird blue-purple dust while on patrol with his dad

× and Endeavor went feral on this low-life villain deciding to attack suddenly

× low and behold, seems the guy wasn't a villain, just a civilian that sneezed and activated his quirk by accident

× quirk that landed on Shouto here

× which just stared confused because what?

× explanations happen, Endeavor is looking down at Shouto expecting something anytime now

× but Icy-Hot here just shrugs it off because it's okay, it's just 3 or 4 days

× funny thing is his dad asked him questions and realized pretty quick that Shouto has been really honest with him until now, which bummed him because Endeavor Is Trying™

× Todoroki Shouto was confident that nothing would go wrong so he forgets about it basically

× two days pass; class time happens

× is so fucking casual about it but it's so hilariously confusing

× he was honest before but he was quiet in general, that's why his honesty came in small dosages

× now he has no filter and won't shut up, he has this absolute need to share his thoughts

× my boy has opinions about everything

× but especially about [Y/N]

× oh yeah, he definitely tells you how that color enhances your natural beauty or how you're really smart

× is so casual and nonchalant, shooks everyone, leaves you full confusion mode while he just smiles and leaves

× legit doesn't realize it

× he complimented you before, that's the thing, but now he's really intensifying it but without changing the tone and execution and it's just a mess

× example:

× goes from "You changed your hairstyle. It looks nice." to "The way you style your hair now makes your eyes pop out more. I love it."

× lowkey proclaims his love about you; it's so obvious it hurts; you have to take it like a champ, man

× it takes Tsu to actually ask what's going on, in the first hour of class

× [even Aizawa is listening, pretending to sleep]

× explains why he's acting like this; "I got hit accidentally by a quirk that makes me speak only the truth."

× everyone just goes crazy while you're piecing stuff together in deep thought

× "Who do you think is the strongest in the class?"

× "Aizawa."

× lowkey a little shit

× "Between the students."

× "Me."

× big time a little shit

× it's until Mina asks who he likes that all hell breaks loose

× Shouto just turns to look at you, blinks and says your name

× just as everyone goes mental after a moment of silence, the bell rings signaling the next class, to which Aizawa [the mature man he is, acting as if this wasn't the best tea-spill he's gonna have at lunch with the other teachers 💅] wakes up, silences everyone and continues class

× every pair of eyes are on you all class

× Shouto is having an existencial crisis because he's actually realizing himself that he likes you

× a lot

× hands down he thought about how great you are, wondered deep in though at night why his heart beat so fast when you smiled at him, how come he got jealous???? when you'd pair with someone else to study or train... the boy didn't even know it was jealousy until now

× as in now he knew he wanted to hold your hand, have more inside jokes between you two, kiss you, marry you, wait what—

× you on the other hand are hyperventilating because Shouto likes you

× and you like him back and oH my god, wHAT just happened????

× lunch break comes, nobody moved from their seats while Todoroki just walks by, stares at you, slight blush on his face

× "I'd like to speak alone with you. About my feelings. Towards you. I like you."

× nice alone chat, Shouto 👏 👏 👏 👏 👏

× legit nobody is breathing, not making a single noise, waiting for your reaction

× so through stutters and all, you have to grab him by his wrist and get the hell out, the attention being too much

× before you reach a quiet place to talk he just stares at your hand

× "I like it when you touch me. Your hand is warm and it makes my skin tingle–"

× so you're a blushing mess when you let go of his wrist fastly

× "Do you not like me back?" [insert kicked puppy face]

× [insert you telling him that you do, but all the attention in class was killing you]

× "Good. Now hold my hand properly."

× that day Shouto learned that being bold with you was the perfect way to get the sweetest reactions out of you

× it's called teasing and Todoroki Shouto will never stop

Hitoshi Shinsou:

× Shinsou had a Reputation™, ok?

× Calm, cool, collected, that's Hitoshi Shinsou

× so how come Monoma did him so dirty?

× it seems the blond borrowed a quirk from someone he knew and fled to school to just bring Hell on Earth

× but the only person he managed to throw the quirk at was at Shinsou

× it wasn't even intended for him, but for Bakugou to embarrass him

× so here he was, Mister Tired-of-this-fucking-world now having another reason to be done with everything

× the boy wasn't dumb

× made a strategy just as Monoma was apologizing for the mistake

× somehow the blond took a liking on him and even if he was now part of class 2-A, Monoma proclaimed he was a 2-B at heart; moving on...

× 3 to 5 days of not talking lies

× great, amazing, marvelous, incredible, fantastic

× Rule #1: Avoid [Y/N] at all costs

× which would prove rather difficult since you're part of the same group he was in

× and you were starting to be really good friends

× something he loved/hated because yes, he wants your friendship but he also wants much more

× so when you came to class, would you look at that! Shinsou is sleeping!

× when you went to lunch with the squad? he fled the scene, not opening his mouth

× asked to borrow a pen in class? didn't even look into your eyes as he just gave you one

× after 3 days of this you were starting to get annoyed

× and Midoriya was writing shit down in that notebook of his mumbling stuff every single time Hitoshi bailed

× what you didn't know is that the whole Dekusquad caught on to Shinsou's shenanigans and demanded answers

× well, Ochaco did and she instantly got them because she's terrifying when serious

× so Izuku is in deep fascination with the quirk, Iida is stiff as fuck and Uraraka has this really creepy I-know-something-you-don't smile on her face; Shouto was existing there too, minding his business 🍵

× you really tried to grab a hold of Shinsou but he wasn't even answering your texts

× time to make a game-plan

× and the easiest way to understand what's going on was through Deku and that suspicious notebook of his

× it wasn't even that hard to get it because you got the perfect opportunity basically thrown in your lap

× he was mumbling your name as he was writing down

× you literally demanded to see what he's writing about involving you

× the boy went full panic but before he could manage to escape the situation, the guy that's been avoiding you grabs you by your forearm and tugs you in the hallway

× there he was, purple messy head you wanted to smack, looking all uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck

× "Ok, listen, I have something to tell you and I want you to know through me, not through that notebook" he sighed, eyes avoiding you

× and while you're hurt and exhausted he just mumbles "Who knows what type of embarrassing stuff he wrote there..."

× hold up, he blushing?

× so while you're processing that he explains

× "Been hit by a quirk..." yada-yada, this and that

× "Ok, but why have you been avoiding me of all people?" you just go hard on him for a little bit, not hiding that you're hurting "Do you not trust me?"

× he's caught off guard

× "Because I love you and I'm scared you'll never look at me the same."

× longest silence of his life

× he never felt the need to fill a silent moment more than now

× so he mumbles

× oh, yah, he just blurts it all out while looking everywhere but you

× "I mean you deserve better than a guy with a quirk like this. I didn't want to make things uncomfortable between us so I thought avoiding you was the best, just so we can continue being friends and–"

× he's a fucking mess and it hurts you that he's saying stuff like that because holy shit you love this sleepy idiot?

× of course you kiss him to silence his rant

× and when you separate from it and start to reassure him he's just a m a z i n g, how dare he say stuff like that and how dare he avoid you for so long; now it's his time to kiss you back slowly and sweetly

× cue instant, lazy smile

× "You're adorable..."

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (2)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“I thought I told you to keep these out of sight.”

Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brock’s drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brock’s hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.

He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.

Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.

The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronte’s collection.

You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of years’ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didn’t get any… ideas.

You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didn’t mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.

It hadn’t always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didn’t always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didn’t bother to ever step inside.

You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.

He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. You’d married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldn’t wait another second. You’d believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.

His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.

Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.

You never saw a penny of that money again.

It didn’t take long before you learned of Brock’s connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.

You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naïve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.

You confronted him with the pieces you’d put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime he’d committed and the blood money he’d made since.

He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadn’t even realized how isolated you’d become until you were desperate to leave. He’d found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships you’d had before you even knew they were gone.

So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your father’s wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.

He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.

Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your father’s money. He’d forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.

So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.

You were content. Numb, but content.

But something was different now. You couldn’t place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.

A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.

***

You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts you’d frequented in your time before Brock.

You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.

You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.

Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Marselli,” you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, “I’ll take a—"

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear, I know it by heart,” she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadn’t changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.

“It smells amazing, as usual,” you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.

Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasn’t the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. “This is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!”

“Hmm, guess so,” you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. “Have a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!”

“Will do, honey! Stay warm!

The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran Café Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftali’s son made the school musical.

The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.

“Y/n’s here!” Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. “What can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, too…”

“Whatever you think, Mateo,” you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. “So, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Don’t hold out on me, kid!”

“Who knows?” he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song ‘Something’s Coming’ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.

“That’s amazing, kid! I’m so happy for you,” you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. You’d known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. “I want a ticket when you open, you hear me?”

Mateo’s cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. “Bernardo doesn’t really sing a lot but I’ve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.”

“Well, count me in as team Shark,” you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. “Don’t forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my aunt’s house last week. They were lovely.”

“Sure thing, Y/n!” Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.

There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.

Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the café, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, you’d run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and they’d take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.

You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.

This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didn’t notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk in the first place.

The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.

“Oh shit! Sorry about tha–” The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brock’s world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. “No harm done, kid. Really. I’m perfectly fi–”

“Please, ma’am, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going,” he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to convince him that you’d never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.

“Wait!” you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.

Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didn’t get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.

***

When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncle’s death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.

You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.

“Come on, Pete, you know I’d call if I couldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?”

He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.

“Aunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,” Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. “The banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so it’s okay if you don’t want to walk that f—”

“I don’t mind,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. “It’s a nice day and I’ve got time.”

That got him smiling, at least.

As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.

“How’s Michelle?” you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, she’s—uh—she’s good,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?”

You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldn’t help but feel grateful you weren’t in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasn’t much different now as it was then.

“What about you? How are things with Brock?”

You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where you’d last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.

“Oh, you know, same as usual,” you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.

There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didn’t force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.

He’d seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasn’t around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasn’t because of your father.

“Come on, kid,” you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, “I’ll race you to the bank.”

It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and you’d be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Pride, Peter.”

“How about donuts from McQueen’s?” he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright – so he was serious now.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.”

“Done.”

***

An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt May’s there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.

It had been a while since you’d spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since you’d spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brock’s world.

You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.

He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You weren’t the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.

You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.

A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, you’d even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.

Humming to yourself, you didn’t notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.

You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didn’t recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.

James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadn’t already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.

Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.

Brock’s jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife,” Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.

You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.

“Why don’t you let Clara make something for you, baby?”

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.

Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you replied.

“Baby,” Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“You’re also in the middle of the kitchen and I’m hungry,” you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. “You have a thousand other rooms in this house, you can’t go anywhere else?”

You’d come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.

“Karpov, please escort my wife somewhere she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have Clara bring her dinner when it’s ready.”

James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.

You weren’t a child and you didn’t need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brock’s face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.

You’d seen that look before. It wasn’t one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“Ma’am, please come with me,” James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.

It wasn’t him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydra’s world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didn’t matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.

Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brock’s eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.

It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.

His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.

You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk you’d come to loath.

“Keep an eye on her, Karpov,” Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.

There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.

“I don’t need a babysitter, just so you know,” you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Oh, I am fully aware,” James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Think you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I don’t piss off the boss?”

You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.

“I suppose I can be fine with that.“

A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didn’t care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but you’d come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydra’s reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.

James seemed to find them unsettling.

“I actually have something for you,” he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.

You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husband’s enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.

He didn’t say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.

He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.

It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.

Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldn’t quite explain. It had been years since you’d known kindness like this inside this home.

You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This – this book in your hands – was something else entirely. You couldn’t remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.

James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and you’d only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.

“I know it’s not a first edition but,” he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “it was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. It’s, uh, seen some things… clearly.”

He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.

“Do you want to see the library?” you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. “You know, if you’re stuck with me for a little while?”

James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.

You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that you’d only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.

You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasn’t making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.

“I know you said you saw it before, but–”

“Not like this,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.

You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.

Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brock’s men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time you’d laughed in that home in a long time.

“You can borrow it, if you like,” you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.

“Think I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,” he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didn’t recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” you shrugged, stepping closer. “There’s no use in having a library full of books you can’t read. It’s what they’re here for.”

“Not sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,” he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasn’t one you were allowed to have.

“It does, actually,” you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I insist.”

You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.

“Guess it’s the least you could do now that I’ve gifted you such a relic,” he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, “don’t knock my new favorite book.”

“Favorite, huh?”

Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you weren’t tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.

But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didn’t matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.

Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.

A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.

“Miss Y/n?” a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.

“Just a moment,” you called back.

You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment – or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.

He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brock’s employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.

“That one’s new around here, isn’t he?” she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.

James didn’t seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.

He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.

He was genuine. It had been a long time since you’d known anything like that within the walls of this home.

And it terrified you.

[gretavanfleetposts]

Hello, can I get a ship? I just wanted to say off the bat that I use he/him pronouns and for the most part identify as a guy, so idk if that changes weather or not I'm elegable for this, but ig I'll shoot my shot anyways. I'm 5'1, a cancer, I love folk music, my favorite color is green especially a good sage green or dark royal green, I love shows like what we do in the shadows, criminal minds and american horror story, my favorite song atm is Sugar in a Bowl by Of Monsters and Men or Rich Girl by Hall & Oats but it changes a lot, I also really love King And Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men, I love DND and fantasy and writing for stuff like that, I also like auto drama podcasts like The Penumbra Podcast and The Two Princes, I also like a good dnd podcast here and there like The Adventure Zone, I can play the ukulele, my friends are my favorite thing in the whole world, I'm ok the chubbier side and have a fashion since that's kinda folky bit changes between masculine and feminine a lot, I had add and have been wondering if Ihave autism as well, idk what else to put so yeah I hope that's enough, thank you! 💖

Of course you can!! Absolutely all are welcome on this blog! Thank you so much for submitting!

❤: you sound like such a fun person! What We Do In The Shadows is one of the funniest shows i've seen, and i dont know anyone else who watches it so lets be friends? You seem like you have such a great imagination and creative soul! The fact that you cherish your friends so much is so so sweet, i feel like you are the kind of person that makes people feel special and loved, and we need more people like you in the world!

Ship: Josh 💎

Because: i can just see that he would match your love for fantasy and imagination! Like how cute would it be to start a new DND campaign with him! He'd definitely be the one to get really excited and jump around when you kill a powerful monster! I think he would really appreciate your taste in music, and would love your fashion sense because i could see that you two would compliment each others style so well because he also dresses kinda folky! I can just imagine you playing the ukulele and him looking at you dotingly at how adorable his person is then he'll end up singing along with his head in your lap while you're strumming the notes of all the songs you know! In short, he's obsessed with you

Scenario:

You're lying on the couch, watching Criminal Minds

it's at the juicy bit where they finally uncover the perpetrator

when Josh comes bouncing in through the front door, completely distracting you from the reveal you've been waiting a whole half hour for

"Guess what i saw that made me think of you" he'd say as he walks in front of the TV

he pulls out a beautiful black wide brimmed hat with feathers on the side tied tight with a leather band from a paper shopping bag

you stand up and take the hat from him, trying it on in the mirror

he stands beside you with his finger nail between his teeth

he really wants you to like it. he saw it in a shop window and knew that you needed to have it, it was yours before he even bought it

you did love it, it sat perfectly and framed your face like artwork

you had mentioned a few weeks before that the one you always wear was getting old and torn, and you were so touched that he remembered all these days later

you grabbed his hand that was still hovering around his mouth and tell him how much you love it

his eyes beam with happiness and a big smile spreads across his face.

he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a kiss

"oh i almost forgot!"

he goes back to the bag that he left on the floor and pulls out a duplicate of the hat he bought you

"i bought myself one too, so we can be matching"

you immediately blush.

he's so adorable

you finish your day with a few more episodes of Criminal Minds with Josh beside you critiquing the film work

you laugh to yourself

you wouldn't want it any other way

Thank you for all the support! I hope you liked it!

-🌙

get shipped here!

[the-edge-of-great]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ JATP WEEK - DAY ONE: FAVORITE CHARACTER(S) ♥

(i don’t have one favorite character, so i wrote something from different POVs of my main five :)) @jatp-week 

also i forgot ghosts don’t sleep. we’re pretending like they do today

––––––

FLYNN

“Flynn, no pressure, but I’m performing tonight,” Julie says while Flynn is dipping her brush into the black paint. “So, you know, make me look pretty.”

Flynn gasps, almost jerking her hand when she looks back at Julie. Julie catches her wrist before she can fling paint everywhere. “You didn’t tell me you were performing tonight!” She pauses, looking over her current progress. “Now I’m nervous.”

“I have total faith in you.” Julie’s eyes dart between the paint brush and Flynn. “But show me how it looks so far?”

Pursing her lips, Flynn shakes her head, grabs Julie’s shoulder, and aims the paintbrush at her cheek. “No way. You didn’t let me see until you were finished.”

“But—” Julie freezes when the brush touches the corner of her mouth, and her eyes quickly move to something behind Flynn. Her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Hey, hey!” Flynn cries. “No moving.”

“The guys are confused.”

“I’ll explain. You stay quiet.” Flynn gives her a second to stop laughing before continuing the delicate line she’s trying to curve across her cheek. She takes it slow—agonizingly, if Julie’s eyes are anything to go by. “So,” Flynn begins loudly to the dense air around her, “we’re getting ready for Day of the Dead, which is a holiday Julie’s family celebrates. I’m trying to draw a sugar skull design on her, like she did for me.”

Julie has always been the residential sugar skull designer in the house. She always drew Carlos’ face, her mom’s, and Flynn and Carrie’s. Usually, she does herself too, but this is their first Day of the Dead without her mom, so Flynn has decided to take the paintbrush into her own hands and surprise Julie with something beautiful—or try to, anyway.

Flynn’s face looks awesome. Julie painted only half in white with a fissured edge down the center of her face. From her eyebrow to her cheekbone, her eye is circled in green and lined with black. Half of Flynn’s mouth stretching to the middle of her cheek has been transformed into skeletal teeth with a vibrant green glow. Her dimple has layers upon layers of dark and light green paint, carefully blended to look like a real skull indentation. Small black circles line the top of her eyebrow, and thin black lines curve across the empty space of her cheek.

For Julie, Flynn is going for a more simplistic look—all of the drawing talent in the friendship seems to have been swallowed up by Julie. Right now, she’s focused on a curved black mouth stretching from one ear to another, adding extra detail to her lips to create a stitched effect, and then? She’ll figure it out from there.

“And I’m not taking any opinions from them,” Flynn declares. She holds her breath until the second line finally meets her ear and she’s finished with the mouth base. “They’re probably biased.”

Julie smiles as Flynn grabs her paint cup. “Actually, Alex says he likes what you’re doing so far.”

“… I’m only taking feedback from Alex.”

Julie laughs. Flynn can’t fight back her smile. “Reggie and Luke like it too,” she adds, smiling up at the space behind the couch. “They think I look scary.”

“How do I look?” Flynn asks, brushing her hair out of her face and looking up at the air, as if she can really see them. She wishes she could.

“They say you look amazing,” Julie translates. “I did that, by the way, so thank you.” She grins at them. Someone must reach for a fist bump, cause she moves her fist across the couch.

“Okay, if you’re going to stay, you can’t make her laugh.” Flynn leans forward, carefully painting over the tip of her nose. “She has a performance tonight, and if I mess up, you can’t fix it. I forbid it.”

“No—” Julie whines.

“You knew the risks when you agreed to let me do this!”

“You didn’t give me a choice!”

Flynn smacks her. “Stop smiling!” But she’s grinning too. It’s hard—how can you look at your best friend and not smile? Flynn waves a hand between them. “Okay, okay, we have to get this done. My hand is tired.”

Julie chuckles. “Okay.” She glances to her left. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I’m performing tonight. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Then why’d you tell me?” Flynn demands.

“To make sure you don’t make me look bad!”

Flynn scoffs. Her finger lifts Julie’s chin to make their eyes meet. “Girl, it’ll take a lot of paint to make you look bad.”

Julie grins.

“And Luke better not have said something equally as cute just then.”

“No—” Julie says it like the idea is overly ridiculous, and Flynn wants to roll her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Mmhm. Hold still.”

Julie and Luke are dating. Flynn isn’t sure how that works—him being a ghost and everything—but Julie makes it make sense. And what can Flynn say? As long as Julie’s happy…

Forty-five minutes later, she sits back with a sigh to admire her work. One of the guys poofed into Julie’s room to grab her makeup bag, so Julie’s eyes are shining with pink and purple eyeshadow to match the pink patch surrounding her right eye. Flynn finished Julie’s eye with a thin black ring and pink and purple circles curved halfway around the top and bottom of her eye. Her nose is black—Flynn’s sure she’ll add more detail in her room later. Then Flynn will complain that she messed with a masterpiece, even though she’ll love whatever additions Julie draws in.

“Wow, okay,” Julie says, looking at herself in her phone’s camera. “This looks so good. Way to pop off, Flynn.”

Flynn waves herself. “Thank you, thank you. It’s my hidden talent.”

Julie grins over her phone. They share a beat of silence before bursting into laughter. Julie leans forward, throwing an arm around Flynn’s shoulders and holding her phone above their heads. They take bursts of pictures, some serious, most silly. They play with Snapchat filters, film TikToks. It’s fun—Day of the Dead is always fun. Especially this year: the year Julie found her music again.

–––––

LUKE

He knocks before entering her room. As he passes through the door, he can hear Flynn and Carlos arguing about what color icing should go on the cupcakes. Alex and Reggie are down there too; he hopes Alex doesn’t let Reggie do anything crazy tonight.

Julie’s sitting in front of her mirror, humming and painting over her eye. She glances at him as she walks in.

Luke chuckles. “Flynn’s not going to be happy you’re changing her design.” He pulls her desk chair over and takes a seat next to her.

“I’m not changing it.” Julie dips her brush into pink paint. “I’m just… adding some stuff. I had an idea.”

“Flowers?”

“Dahlias.” She side eyes him and smiles. “My mom loved dahlias.” She balances her palette on her knees, steadying it with one hand while leaning forward to paint a second flower at the corner of her eyebrow.

“Here,” Luke offers, reaching under her arm to grab the paint. He holds the palette next to her, and when she reaches over to dip her brush, she smiles in thanks. “So, what exactly is Day of the Dead?”

“First of all, it’s usually pronounced Día de los Muertos,” she begins. Oh God, he loves when she speaks Spanish. “It’s a three day festival where we celebrate the lives of those we’ve lost. My dad’s side is coming over—we always celebrate with the Molinas. My mom was Puerto Rican; they don’t really observe this holiday. But she celebrated with my dad when they first started dating, and she fell in love with the holiday.”

“What’s so great about it?”

Julie waves a hand at her face. “The makeup. The costumes. The music, dancing, food… Just having family around. Being completely immersed in our culture.” She shrugs at him. “We speak Spanish sometimes around the house, but it’s my grandparents’ first language. They had to learn English when they first came to America, but they prefer Spanish.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“Panama.” Julie pauses, carefully painting leaves around the base of her dahlia. “My grandparents have ofrendas set up at their house—ofrendas are altars where we leave offerings for those who have passed. Tonight, we’re going to the cemetery to visit Mom’s grave.”

He notices the way she falters when she mentions her mom. He hates when that happens; always wants to kiss away the sadness. When Julie puts down her paintbrush, he takes her hand in his.

“Hey,” he whispers, running his thumb over her knuckles.

Julie takes a deep breath. “We didn’t celebrate last year; it was too close to Mom passing away.” She shrugs. “We didn’t have it in us.”

“This is your first year without her,” Luke realizes quietly.

“We have an ofrenda downstairs for her. Dad and Carlos did most of it. I was supposed to find some stuff in the studio, but—” She shakes her head. “It’s just weird. This was her favorite holiday, and now she’s—” Julie rolls her eyes. “I know it’s been a year, but—”

“Hey,” Luke interrupts. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers linger against her skin, cupping her cheek, mindful of the paint. “This is your first year without her. It’s okay to still be sad, Jules.”

Julie’s next breath is shaky; her eyes are glossy as she looks away. “Can’t cry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Flynn will kill me.”

Luke laughs. Behind him, he hears the whoosh of Alex and Reggie poofing in her room. Julie smiles weakly at them.

“Were we interrupting?” Reggie asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Alex shakes his head. “Sorry. He kept stealing Flynn’s cupcakes to give to Carlos, and I knew he’d either scare your tía or Flynn would hit him with a spatula if we didn’t get out of there.”

“Carlos deserved to win—”

Julie laughs out loud. She wipes at her eyes carefully; Luke hopes she’s forgotten her grief for now. Luke grins at her. He loves her laugh. Have I mentioned he’s kinda just in love with her?

“We have a little bit before my family arrives,” Julie says, checking her phone. She tugs her lip between her teeth. “And I have extra paint…?”

Reggie bounces on his feet. “Yes!” he cries. “I want a face painting!”

As soon as Luke steps away from the chair, Reggie is there, knees bumping against Julie’s. “Make me look cool.”

Alex lays across her bed, resting his chin in his hands as he watches them. Luke hands the palette to Julie and steps out of her way. While she works on pouring more paint out, he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to her hair. Then he takes a seat next to Alex.

Luke grins. “I want next!”

–––––

REGGIE

He knows the party is really in full swing when the sugar skulls are beginning to set in and the children running around are almost as loud as Julie’s cousins playing music in the living room. Carlos’ real teeth are black; they match the set Julie painted on him. It looks a little creepy; his tía Victoria demands he go brush every time he grins at her in passing.

Reggie ducks past people as if they won’t pass through him; it’s still weird to him, and he knows they feel the same way. At some point, he was separated from his friends. He sees Luke and Julie every now and then—Julie’s making her rounds with her family, and Luke is by her side, always—but he hasn’t seen Alex in a while. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Alex is even still around. Would he leave a party? He’s done it before. If there’s a chance he can hangout with Willie? No doubt. But would he leave Julie’s party to hangout with Willie? Hm… nah.

His favorite thing, he thinks as he walks through the house, is the atmosphere. There are so many people around—and most are Ray’s siblings! Julie mentioned in the middle of face painting that Latino families are often big, but he wasn’t expecting this! He loves it, though. Sometimes he lingers in a room before moving on, and he hears stories about Ray from his siblings: childhood mishaps and teenage antics.

And with so many siblings comes cousins. They range in age, from Carlos’ to Reggie’s. He overhears Carlos tell the other kids about the ghosts that haunt their house—Reggie leaves with a personal promise to prove him right later.

On his second walk through the living room, he finally spots his friends: Alex is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Flynn with Luke next to him. Julie stands beside an older man with a long beard and a guitar on his lap. Just as Reggie’s about to cross the room to them, something catches his eye.

It’s a shelf to his left, spotted with candles, photos, and flowers. He steps closer, curious. There’s a picture of Julie’s mom in a frame on top, he thinks. She looks… familiar. On the first shelf down is a pair of drumsticks and guitar picks. Reggie frowns. Why are there… drumsticks? He reaches for them. They couldn’t be Alex’s… could they? Why would his drumsticks be—

“I told you our house is haunted!” Carlos cries, and that’s when Reggie notices how quiet everything is suddenly. The drumsticks bounce against his fingers and roll back against the shelf wall.

“Reggie,” Alex hisses behind him.

“Dude, your drumsticks are up here!” Reggie cries.

“My—What?”

Julie moves when no one else does. She’s not looking at Reggie, but he begins apologizing anyway, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching for the sticks. “Whose are…?”

“I found them in a box of your mother’s things in the studio,” Ray explains, walking over.

Reggie throws a knowing look at Alex. Alex frowns and summons his drumsticks. They appear in his hand in a flash, and when Reggie turns back, there’s still a pair in Julie’s hand.

“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know she played.”

Ray chuckles. “Your mother played every instrument she could. Now, there’s a difference in playing and actually sounding good… Drumming is not something she excelled at.”

This earns a round of laughter from their family. From Julie, who’s beaming under her makeup at the new information. From Alex, who adds a “If that isn’t a mood” under his breath.

“What—” Luke argues. “Dude, you’re literally a drummer.”

“I make it look easy.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“The guitar picks are hers too,” Ray adds, pushing them into his hand. “Look, they have the logos from each of the bands she was in.”

Julie looks them over. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve grabbed these from the studio. You told me to find things for her ofrenda, but I—”

“Hey, it’s okay mija,” Ray interrupts. He squeezes her shoulder. “It was actually fun going through her old stuff again. I, personally, haven’t seen these in years.”

Reggie realizes he’s smiling long before Julie finds her strength again. He loves the father-daughter moments they have, even though he has a nagging feeling that he should be over by Luke and Alex and not intruding. Their relationship is addicting, though. He’s never had that with his father.

Maybe… that’s a can of worms to open on another day.

“Speaking of talent,” the man with the guitar says, “Julie? Cantar para nosotros?”

Reggie doesn’t know what he said, but Julie does. She nods. As they part ways—Ray moving past to fix the ofrenda, Reggie walking toward his friends, and Julie heading for the front of the room—Reggie squeezes Julie’s shoulder in passing. They share a quick smile.

“Good luck,” he says. She can’t respond, but he knows her smile is for him.

–––––

ALEX

Alex has never experienced this type of music live. They have a whole band up there—two guitarists, a woman sitting on a cajón box, and Julie with vocals in the center.

“And now you see Julie’s other band,” Flynn whispers to them. “The Molinas.”

The song begins softly. Alex can’t understand anything Julie’s singing, but he doesn’t have to know the words to hear her voice. As the beat picks up, so does her volume. He can see the moment she loses herself completely to the music; it’s the same at their own concerts: her eyes squeezing shut, one hand pressed in front of her and the other at her side. She can’t stand still, either. Julie steps over her younger siblings sitting on the ground carefully, but she’s bouncing on the soles of her feet. The music’s contagious—by the time she’s danced around the room and made it back to where she started, the whole room is clapping on beat. They’re grinning at each other, some singing along, some cheering.

Alex can’t fight a smile. It’s impossible. He looks at Luke and Reggie—they mirror him. The energy Julie and her family has created is infectious, as music should be; even if he still doesn’t know what she’s saying.

Julie ends the song on her own with a stretched out note, instruments falling away with each beat she holds in a breath he can’t believe is possible. Everyone watches with bated breath, anticipation, building excitement for this girl. Julie Molina—Alex shakes his head in disbelief. What a damn star.

Flynn leaps to her feet when Julie finally takes a breath. “WOO!” she shouts. “Go off girl!”

Alex finds himself laughing when the room erupts into cheers. Luke is practically vibrating with excitement. Reggie shouts with Flynn.

Julie takes a bow, shoulders bouncing with quickened breath and eyes shining under the dark makeup.

Flynn yanks her into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, that was incredible!” she cries.

“Seriously,” Alex agrees. “You killed it.” He fist bumps her, hidden from the rest of the room in front of Flynn.

“I have no idea what you said, but it was beautiful,” Reggie adds, starstruck.

Luke grins at her. “You never cease to amaze me, Jules.”

As the excitement dies down, so does the party. The family disperses in groups until Carlos and Julie are hugging tía Victoria goodbye, and Ray is closing the door to a finally quiet home.

“So,” Ray says, turning to his kids. “One last thing to do tonight.”

Carlos nods. “I’ll grab the candles.”

"And I'll get… everything else," Julie adds. She glances at Alex and the others on her way up the stairs.

They meet her in her room. Alex sits on her bed. "So, what's next?"

"We're going to the cemetery to visit Mom's grave," Julie explains, opening her closet. She grabs a bag and joins Alex on the bed. "You guys can come if you want. People light up the graves with candles and lights—it's beautiful."

Sounds beautiful, but—Alex looks over at Luke and Reggie. They meet his gaze with as much hesitation as he feels.

"I think we're going to hang back," Luke admits softly. "It's, um… I think it's kind of weird for us, you know? Since we're…"

Julie blinks. "Oh, right. Duh. Of course." She shakes her head. "That's okay."

Alex smiles. "But we'll be here when you get home."

She nods, returning his smile. Her eyes flicker to something behind him, and she hurries around the bed. Alex is just turning to her when Reggie gasps.

“The box," he whispers, eyes wide.

"Don't act like at least one of you hasn't been in here already," Julie mutters, opening the box on her bed.

Alex and Reggie throw a look at Luke, who's chewing his lip sheepishly.

"What're you doing?" Luke asks, moving to her side.

"I—" Julie quickly tucks a piece of paper into her pocket. "I'm just… It's an offering for her."

Luke frowns. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's—"

"Julie!" Ray calls up the stairs. "You ready?"

Julie sighs. "Yeah, dad!" She shifts her weight, glancing between them. "I'll tell you guys later, okay?"

Reggie nods. "Yeah, of course."

She takes two steps toward the door before turning back to them. "Group hug?" she asks hopefully. "Real quick?"

Reggie immediately wraps his arms around her. "Like you even have to ask," he mutters. They chuckle. Alex rolls off the bed, and he and Luke join in. They've been doing this a lot more: hugging. Ever since they've been able to touch each other, this has become their thing. Not that Alex is complaining.

When Julie pulls away, she's smiling so wide. Alex smiles back, but he can't help thinking there's something behind that skeletal grin. He doesn't ask; none of them do. They let her go, despite the feeling gnawing at him. Later, he decides. Hopefully they can figure it out later.

–––––

JULIE

The cemetery was always Julie’s mom’s favorite part of Día de los Muertos. There’s a chilling beauty in a sea of lights across acres of land, crowded with people who can all relate on some level.

Rose Molina’s grave is lined with white and blue candles—she always loved the ones that smelled like the ocean. There are guitar picks scattered across the stone, most of which didn’t come from them. Ray suggested previous bandmates; Julie has never met the previous bandmates. She wants to one day; hopes to.

They stay with her for a while. She doesn’t know how long they sit by her, telling her stories about what’s happening in the past year. They have a lot to catch up on—Julie’s sure this is Carlos’ first visit since she died. It’s definitely Julie’s. Her dad’s been here a few times, only once or twice. She wonders if there have been any recent visits.

There are tears in her eyes when they finally stand to leave. Her dad catches it somehow—she’s sure her dark makeup shadowed by the dim light would’ve covered her—and before she can blink, he’s wrapping his arms around her in a tight hold. She would’ve buried her face in his chest if she had washed her paint off. But she didn’t, so she doesn’t hug as tight as she wants, and she pulls away too soon.

As they’re leaving, Julie remembers the note in her pocket. “Wait,” she says, falling out of step with them. “I forgot something.” She lingers, shifting her weight. “Can I meet you in the car?”

Carlos frowns. Dad nods. “Of course,” he says softly.

Julie watches them go, disappearing in the crowd. In just a blink, she’s alone. The note is heavy in her chest. With a deep breath, she turns back to her mom.

“Hey,” she says, sinking to her knees. “I have something I want to show you.” She crosses her legs under her and unfolds the note in her hands. “Remember that song we started writing while you were in the hospital? Stand Tall? We never… got to finish it…” With trembling hands, Julie slips the note beneath a picture frame Carlos left at the base of the stone. It’s a moment captured after Julie’s performance at The Orpheum: her, Carlos, Dad, and tía Victoria, posing under the Julie and the Phantoms sign.

“Well, my friend Luke helped me write that second verse,” she continues. “He’s—He’s kind of more than my friend. You know who he is, and what he is.” She laughs. “Don’t judge me too hard for this relationship, okay? He’s really… a great guy. They all are: Alex, Luke, and Reggie. They’ve helped me in… more ways that I can put into words.” The next time she laughs, her voice is shaking. She sniffs; the black on her nose smears across her hand when she rubs her face. “Anyway, um, I just wanted to give you this. And I wanted to tell you thanks. Thanks for sending the guys to me. Thanks for giving me the courage to get back into music. Thanks for…”

Julie shakes her head. The tears are back—she tries swallowing them back. Maybe if she can just hold it in for a little bit longer, at least until she takes the paint off—

“I really miss you, Mom,” she says carefully, slowly, like every word takes all of her strength. “A lot. Every day. I miss you. I miss you. I love you.”

Someone stops behind her stone. Two people, actually. Julie sniffs. She wipes at her nose again; she doesn’t care what she looks like now.

“Julie?”

That’s weird. Sounds almost like—

“Carrie?”

Julie brushes off her pants when she climbs to her feet. She sniffs again, eyeing the pair across from her: Carrie and Trevor Wilson. Trevor is holding a bouquet of flowers; it takes her breath away—dahlias.

“We were just coming out to pay our respects,” Trevor says. He separates a dahlia and hands it to her.

“Nice makeup,” Carrie says, not unkindly. She’s actually smiling, kind of like she used to when they were friends.

“Thanks, I—Flynn did it. Well, not…” Julie gestures to the smudged paint.

“Right.” Carrie reaches into her bag and offers a wad of tissues. Julie takes them with a smile. They share a nod, Julie thanks Trevor for the flower, and they go their separate ways. At least Julie doesn’t feel as heavy as usual when she walks away from Carrie.

At home, when her face is clean of any paint and she can see herself again, she steps into her animal slippers and makes her way down to the studio. The guys are waiting, just like they said they would. They smile when they see her, and she smiles back, but her gaze settles on the piano, and then she can’t look away from the piano.

Two years ago, she played a song while her mom strutted around the studio, pretending to sing terribly and still managing to sound like an angel. The year before that, Julie and her family sat on the floor surrounded by candles and told ghost stories because an earthquake knocked out their electricity (that’s where Carlos’ fascination comes from). The year before that, they—

Julie’s lip quivers. Her fingers curl around the arm of the couch, her vision blurs, and everything hurts. Someone’s in front of her in seconds—it’s Luke. He’s holding her close, tight against him, fingers in her hair, and she just breaks.

Her hands tighten into fists around his shirt. She buries her face in his shoulder; now that she’s started, she can’t stop. She tries to speak, to explain, but—

“Shh,” he whispers. He rubs circles into her back. “I know. I know, baby.” He kisses her hair. “It’s okay, Jules.”

She doesn’t try speaking again, and when Alex and Reggie join the hug, she just cries harder.

When she wakes the next morning, she’s on the couch. Luke’s behind her, an arm around her waist, legs tangled. Alex is in front of her, sitting against the couch with his cheek pressed against the cushion. She grimaces for him; that can’t be comfortable. On the floor, with his head in Alex’s lap is Reggie, curled in a ball against the couch. They never left her side last night.

With a heart swelling with warmth, Julie snuggles closer to Luke. Her movement causes him to hold tighter, which takes her breath away.

Julie smiles at something across from her before going back to sleep.

Laying on the coffee table in front of Alex, at the edge, as if it doesn’t want to leave her side either, is the dahlia.

[endlessly-searching-for-you]

Happier Times

During my Christmas break, I binge read Endless Summer. Just as I expected, I fell in love with my two favorite characters all over again. And since I probably had too many marshmallows last night (hey, it’s been 2020, we all deserve a treat, right?), I came up with this fic idea. It’s sickly sweet and fluffy and cheesy and everything in between. Also, probability? Never heard of her.

Be warned and enjoy :-)

Here’s to happier times: stay healthy and safe! May 2021 be everything 2020 wasn’t.

Book: Endless Summer

Pairing: Jake x MC

Warnings: none, just sweetness and fluff (get some toothpaste ready)

Word count: ~2600 (10 minutes reading time)

The house was haunted.

Well, it was either that, or Taylor was losing her mind.

Between the two, she would rather have a ghost.

It all started innocently, with a missing laundry basket. At first, Taylor thought she left it in the garden, but it wasn’t there. She searched the house from top to bottom, but it wasn’t there either. “It couldn’t just get up and walk away! Have you taken it?” She asked her husband, but Jake shrugged and turned away, murmuring something she’d rather not hear.

It was a long shot, anyway. Jake never did laundry, not unless he really had to. He’d rather scrub the floors or wash windows. If she had to guess, it was because you didn’t have to do it as often, but she chose not to complain. She wasn’t a big fan of the household chores, either.

Next was her favorite coffee cup.

Taylor bought a set of six identical cups when they moved in, but this one was special. A little chipped and faded from years of washing, and still her favorite. Every afternoon, she would sit in her spot by the window and have a coffee in it. It was her “me time,” as sacred as it was short.

Gritting her teeth, she opened the fridge to grab a snack, but to her surprise, the food was also gone. Well, most of it. It was easier to explain——she didn’t know what it was with men and food, but she already got used to the sight of empty shelves. She only hoped he had the decency to restock it.

“Do you need anything? I’m going to the store.” Jake peeked through the door as if reading her mind, and she gestured hopelessly at the fridge. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He shot her a dazzling smile and left before she had a chance to say anything.

“Wait! Have you seen...” She uttered finally, but the loud click of the front door told her it was too late. With a sigh, she plopped in her chair. Coffeeless. It certainly didn’t help brighten her mood.

“At least the weather is great,” she whispered to herself. That much was true. The rains finally stopped, leaving fresh, crisp air behind. The sun was already hanging low, but she could still see stray rays fighting their way through lush greenery, and the blue sky matched the color of her husband’s eyes.

She smiled at her thoughts. So many things have changed throughout the years, but the way Jake looked at her didn’t. The warmth she felt inside when she thought of him didn’t, either.

And if she had a say in the matter, it wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

Speaking of going anywhere, though—they could take a break and go to the beach. Sand would probably be still damp, and ocean waters cold, but it wouldn’t matter. They had a soft spot for the beaches from the very beginning. It was time to add another happy memory to their collection. Tomorrow, she decided, checking the weather forecast.

When she climbed to the top shelf, she wasn’t even surprised her bag and blanket were no longer among the other beach items. It was just her luck today. Cursing under her breath, she slammed the door a little too hard, summoning a cloud of ancient dust sleeping on the wardrobe.

This day just kept getting better and better.

Huffing and sneezing, Taylor reached the bathroom and stared in disbelief. The laundry basket she looked for the entire morning was back where it’s always been. Adding insult to injury, it looked like it was laughing at her anguish, mocking her with hundreds of its tiny eye-shaped holes. She ignored the insolent box and turned on her heel, trying to ignore the trembling hands.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “Nothing’s happening. I’m just tired. I need to go to bed earlier. Or maybe have a drink. Yes, that’s a good start.” Mumbling under her breath, she went back to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. Then closed it and opened it again. And again. And again.

The more she looked inside, the more the wine bottle wasn’t there.

It was the last straw.

A sudden cry startled Jake. What on Earth happened? It didn’t sound entirely human. Without hesitation, he ran to the kitchen only to see his wife, as human as she ever was, waving an angry (and a little... dusty?) fist at the furniture. He tried to retreat silently, but she turned and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You! Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Huh?” He looked her up and down. “You mean, more than usual?” He tried to joke, but under her death glare, the words got stuck in his throat.

“I keep losing things,” Taylor sniffled. “First the laundry basket, then my favorite cup—”

He wrapped his hands around her and whispered so low she couldn’t hear him, “Good riddance.”

“—and now even the wine is gone!”

“I’m sure we’ll find it,” he tried to cheer her up. “Just maybe not right now?”

“Why not?”

“You deserve a break.” He stroked her back. “And, uh, a shower. What were you doing, anyway?”

“Don’t ask. I think the universe hates me. At least today.” 

“Well, I know exactly how to cheer you up.” Jake beamed. “I’m taking you on a date. I already asked our neighbors, they don’t mind having more kids tonight, so we’re free. You know, just you and me, like in ancient times?”

“Come on, we’re definitely not ancient!” She laughed in protest. “But you’re right, it’s been a while. Give me five minutes. Where are we going?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Taylor felt the car coming to a stop. She still had no idea where they were going—just before they left, Jake asked her to close her eyes and stop peeking, and to her own surprise, she obliged. Now that he held her hand and helped her out, she didn’t even need to open them to know. There was only one place with that smell and salty breeze.

“Just in time to watch the sunset, eh?” She turned to Jake with a smile that quickly turned into a scowl when she noticed the bag he was holding. And all the missing items sticking out of it, her favorite mug and wine bottle included. “Don’t tell me it was you.”

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad.”

She shook her head. “You could have told me.”

“That would spoil the surprise,” he murmured apologetically.

“But why my mug?”

“It was on the front. My bad.”

“And the laundry basket?”

“I forgot where you put this thing,” he swung the bag.

Taylor looked at her husband, trying to keep her dignity, but the laugh she kept inside finally broke free. It started small, with shaking shoulders, but before she knew it, she lost control entirely and doubled over, grabbing on to Jake for support.

“That was... something else,” she wheezed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Sorry. Thank you. It definitely was a surprise.”

“Mm-hmm.” He grinned and nodded at the blazing sky. “What do you think?”

“Ten out of ten. Just look at the colors,” Taylor sighed in admiration, draping the blanket over their shoulders and snuggling to his side. “Also, great company. And food” —she curiously eyed a flattened sandwich before taking a small bite— “probably not poisonous. Overall, would recommend.”

Jake looked at her with his signature half-smile, and she felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body. She raised her hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, then pulled him in for a kiss and nestled her head on his shoulder with a happy little sigh.

Just as she was drifting off into sleep, she heard his low voice.

“I got a letter today.”

“Oh?”

“From the court.”

“Oh.” She gasped, any remnants of drowsiness gone in an instant. A while ago—a really, really, really long while ago—they decided to try and free Jake from his charges. Their friends helped—actually, they did most of the work, from Aleister hiring lawyers to Zahra unearthing real evidence—but they never got any response. 

Not until now.

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to read it.” Jake admitted, smiling bleakly at the thick letter he fished out of his pocket. “I’m feeling like the Schrödinger’s cat right now. Both guilty and innocent until we open it. It’s funny how I couldn’t wait for it, and now I’m not even sure if I want to know.”

“Are-are you—” She stuttered, trailing a finger over the envelope. “Are you afraid you won’t be able to come home?”

“No,” he sighed. “It’s not that. The truth is, it’s not my home. Not anymore. My home is here. With you. No matter what they say, I am home.”

“Oh, Jake,” She wrapped her hands around his waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess.” He ran his fingers along her cheek and tipped her chin up for a kiss.

Taylor hesitantly pulled out of the embrace. “Well then, if you don’t read it, I will. Worst case scenario, everything stays as it is, right?”

She tore the envelope and unfolded the letter. Despite her apparent bravado, Jake could see her hands were trembling. She turned page after page, and when she finally raised her head, he couldn’t read her face. It was completely blank. Nothing, nil, nada.

“Well?” He blurted out. Deep inside, he felt his heart drop. It wasn’t right. His wife wasn’t good at hiding her emotions. She would smile, her starry eyes would twinkle with joy, she would never stare at him like that if the letter brought good news. His shoulders slumped, and he stared into the distance, blinking away tears. He could feel Taylor’s arms wrapped around him, her shaking shoulders and hot tears soaking through his shirt, but he dared not look.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know it was a possibility. Only now, when his luck took a turn for the better, he wasn’t seriously considering it.

He would get over it. He had mastered “getting over it.”

Just not now.

“Jake? Do you hear me?”

He looked at his wife, dumbfounded. Her whole face lit up. It didn’t make any sense, but she was beaming.

“You’re free,” she whispered. “You’re free.”

“What?!” He grabbed the papers from her hand and scanned line after line, not understanding half of the jargon. Still, the crucial sentence, written in bold, was not open to interpretations. All charges were dropped.

He was no longer a wanted man.

He wanted to shout, sing, dance, everything at once—but all he could do was stare at the letter.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I thought—You looked so—”

“I was shocked,” Taylor smiled apologetically. “I couldn’t believe it either. I shouldn’t be surprised, I knew you didn’t do anything, but—oh, you have no idea how happy for you I am right now!”

She jumped into Jake’s arms, throwing him off balance, and they both tumbled into the sand, giggling like a pair of teenagers.

“I just... can’t... believe... it,” he muttered, stopping to place a kiss on her lips after each word. “I was sure we lost.”

“But we won.”

“Yeah.” He helper her rise to her feet. “We should head back home, then. Pack our bags. I’ll get the plane ready, so we can start tomorrow morning.”

“So much for ‘my home is wherever you are,’” she let out an exaggerated sigh followed by a giggle.

“I mean, I don’t want to go back there forever. For a few days, a week.”

“For as long as you need.”

They stared into each others’ eyes for what felt like an eternity, even if only a few seconds passed.

“Can you pack my suit?” Jake finally broke the silence. “And a nice dress, and... you know, fancy things?” He waved his hand hopelessly, and Taylor only raised her brows in response. He whispered something into her ear, and her eyes grew wide.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But I swear, Jacob Lucas McKenzie, if you keep anything, and I mean literally anything, from me ever again...!”

***

Jake fixed his tie for the millionth time. There was no point in denying it—he was nervous. And it wasn’t even his wedding.

It’s just been too long, and—

“Ah, to hell with it,” he muttered and raised his hand to knock, only the door swung open before he had a chance to do it.

“There you are!” A tall brunette in a frilly bridesmaid gown pulled him inside, clearly relieved. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, stealing a look at the bride, who unsuccessfully tried to tame a stray lock.

She’s all grown up now, he realized with surprise. He half-expected to see a scrawny redheaded teenager, always at odds with the world. That’s how he still remembered and imagined her—except it was well over a decade ago. The young woman he saw right now looked happy and self-assured, and, well, beautiful. He couldn’t not admit otherwise without taking a dig at his own looks, and he was rather proud of it.

“What took you so long?” The bride finally gave up on her hair and extended her arm without as much as looking at him.

“Er, it’s a long story. I don’t think we have time for that.”

Rebecca turned with a gasp of surprise. She expected her cousin, and not her prodigal older brother. Nobody expected him to show up at her wedding, not after he disappeared without a word all those years ago. To be honest, most people probably even forgot she had a brother, the black sheep of the family.

She didn't.

Jake could see all the conflicting emotions on her face. He was glad when she finally settled on a smile and flung her hands around his neck, hugging him really tight like she tried to make up for the lost years.

“This was for everything,” she said with a smile, pulling back. “And this” —Jake staggered back when she slapped him across the face—“is for everything else.”

“I guess I deserved it,” he agreed, massaging his jaw. “Don’t worry, that’s how we show love in our family. You may go!” He shooed away the flock of bridesmaids.

“It’s been a while, Becks.” He smiled softly at his sister, and she snorted in return.

“You tell me!”

“I’m sorry. Really sorry.” He squeezed her hand and stared into her face, not unlike his own. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But it did, and I’m sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

“I already did. But tell me one thing. Is it safe for you to come here?” Rebecca beamed at his nod and looped her arm through his. “We have to talk. But please, not now. I don’t want them to think I changed my mind.”

“If you want to run, just give me a word. I have some experience, you know.”

“God, no.” She laughed. “No running today, I promise.”

As they walked down the aisle, he kept glancing at his sister and ignoring the guests’ gasps and murmurs. Her gaze was fixed on her fiancee, who in turn was grinning sheepishly at the altar. Funny, how he never took her for the marrying kind. But then nobody took him, either, and there he was.

Maybe you just needed the right person. At the right time.

Because he was sure you didn’t need the gossiping aunts, no matter what customs said.

“Thank you,” she said when they stopped. “I’m happy you’re back.”

Jake smiled at his sister and her fiancee.

“So am I. Good luck, you two.”

He resisted the urge to wave to the crowd and instead darted to where he noticed his own right person. And as he held her warm hand, for the first time ever, he finally felt all the puzzle pieces were in place.

He was, after all, a lucky man.

***

@choicesficwriterscreations :)

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Feather Boas and Hors’ D’oeuvres

A/N: This is part two of my Halloween themed fics for @badsext. It’s the Robbie x reader one! Upon writing this author’s note (I write them before I start writing the story), I have 12 works in progress, counting this one. I have no idea why in the name of the lord I have decided to do this shit, but I love writing, and love writing for other people. Here in this household, we support all bodies. All bodies are beautiful, and you better be loving yourselves beech. I hope this ends out well.

Warnings: food, bad words, mention of insecurities, self hatred (but it’s recovered, don't worry luvs x)

“Robbie, I am NOT wearing that outside. Where the hell am I meant to go wearing that, love?” you ask, looking at the outfit he prepped for me with hesitance.

“You’ll be fine dear, just don’t turn too much or y’know. Everything’ll spill out.” he says, turning me in different directions.

“Yeah, yeah. I might have to deconstruct it, and add more fabric, Robbie, this is a LOT.” you say, poking and prodding at yourself, trying to suck the infamous tummy ™ in.

“Ahh, stop that now. That squish is perfectly fine, and your organs have to go somewhere. You’re fine just the way you are. No need to suck that in, nobody needs that much breath control. Not even a strong swimmer, love. Unsuck that belly, and let’s get on with all this, okay?” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your head.

  You take the costume off, careful not to rip any of it, and put it back, waiting for Robbie to open the door, as he does. You put on your regular clothes, and decide to snoop around a bit, and look at the more absurd options in the Costume Shop. Some of this shit just does not make sense, please, society, change, and for the better this time. You do not want to wear a bathing suit outside, in 60 degree weather, just so you can say “I went Trick or Treating”. Not doing it, sorry. Those thoughts ran through your head as you went through the store, letting out a chuckle at the thought of breathing in nothing but rubber for an extended amount of time.

“Have you been having fun, going around, no worries.” Robbie asked, sneaking up from behind you, his cold arms creating goosebumps along your flesh.

“I’ve been talking to myself about just how not okay some of these costumes are.” you said, mentioning the puzzle pieces.

“That’s my problem with these things. What happened to the days where everyone went outside naked, and thought nothing of it.” Robbie asked, catching himself as he saw neon pink feathers.

“Periods exist, and it’s just too damn cold for me to go outside like that, you know that.” I say, following his eyes and sensing the chaos about to ensue.

“What about this huh?” Rob said, wrapping a painful neon pink boa around his neck.

  You shook your head at his antics, and he chased you around the store with the wretched thing, trying to capture you with it. Along the way, he collected many more items, including fake blood, vampire teeth, copious amounts of candy, and a tiny top hat, colored yellow. It had sparkles all on it, and he put it on top of his head. In his arms, a couple things began to topple over, but he ran to the front register, and quickly placed it down before he had to pay for it, plus extra.

“All this please, along with this costume, and one of your “Pretty Princess” balloons in the back there please.” he said, glitter getting in his eyes. The cashier rolled their eyes, and scanned all of the items, and almost forgot the top hat on Robbie’s head, which he bent over for them to scan.

  As soon as all of the items were scanned and paid for (and when Robbie got his balloon), the two of you got in the car, and headed back to the house, to decorate it accordingly. The car ride was quite short, but boy did it feel long. Robbie was stretched out in the back with his balloon, and you drove through the traffic, tapping your hands on the steering wheel when a certain beat hit.

Boys and girls of every age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange

Close your eyes and you will see, this our town of Halloween

“Yes, ohmygod ohmygod, THIS IS MY SONG!” you said, damn near breaking the dial to scream along to the song. Yes, you were getting weird looks from the families in their own cars, but you were feeling it.

 Robbie laughed from the back, and twisted around, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek, joining you in the chaos that is yelling song lyrics in a car. You moved along in your seat, and admittedly ran 2 red lights, dodging potholes and cracks in the road. As the song ended, the glitter from Robbie’s hat had come off somewhat, and in almost every available place, there was yellow glitter. You laughed, and knocked some of it off of the radio dial, and put your attention fully on the road, instead of purposefully missing notes just to spite yourself. A couple minutes after the song ended, you arrived at your shared home, and emptied the car of costumes, decor, and of course, the balloon, which was starting to get more and more absurd. 

“Where are we going to put half of these things?’ you ask, roaming around the house, trying to come up with a spot for your Halloween themed objects to go.

“Some of them could go outside, not much out there. The little cobwebs can go in the corners, not to be confused with the real cobwebs. The candles can go in here, Mr. Skelly can go on the mantle. We’ll figure everything else out. Oh, and the costumes go in the closet, that’s simple enough.” he says, setting Mr. Skelly in his rightful place. 

   You went down all the halls, pinning the fake cobwebs in the corners, avoiding the fake spiders. You even sprinkled some remaining glitter on the tables, trying not to breathe too much in. The fake blood was put into the bathroom, for special effects just in case you decided to be an oldie but goldie vampire. Robbie was busy getting the candles together, and he eventually got his balloon out of the car, where it had deflated some. It was put in the kitchen, along with your numerous house plants, also away from the infamous pink butter knife. He started on dinner, which was a soup of sorts, and he made the both of you a cup of coffee, pumpkin spice sadly excluded.

  Soon enough, the sun was setting, and the two of you began lighting candles, and putting the warm soup into bowls, and getting washed up before putting your costumes on. You sipped on it, and turns out it was tomato soup, with grilled cheese sandwiches because originality in cooking is always welcome, but sometimes simple does it. The two of you ate in semi-silence, music playing from the record player in the living room.

“Can you taste the red food dye this time?” Robbie asked, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

“No, not this time, at least it doesn’t make me feel like I’m a hot air balloon. Too much red food dye is lethal to anyone living, I don’t care who the fuck you are, it’s not like I’m immune to things that taste like shit.” you say, biting into the sandwich. 

“True, true, I hope it isn’t that bad, I mean, I can poison you if you’d like, just take a bite out of that candle, it’ll take you right out of here.” he says, pointing towards the lit candle in the corner of the room, which flickered due to the air in the room.

 You chuckled at the thought, and from there on, you two ate in complete silence, until you finished, and Robbie offered to wash the dishes, and you took him up on it, heading back upstairs to freshen up and get ready to go trick-or-treating that night. As you were putting your costume on, certain places weren’t the same size that they were, and a couple tears ran down your face, and onto the fabric. You knew why you were frustrated, and you knew it was a really bad excuse to be crying, but the sobs only got heavier and heavier, until you were on the floor, clutching the carpet in your hands, trying to calm back down. You were sobbing so hard that you didn’t even hear Robbie’s bare feet padding in the halls, and him stopping when he found you on the ground, in your costume.

  He didn’t say anything, only holding you as you cried, running his fingers over your hair, comforting you. You finally calmed down, and were reduced to sniffles. That’s also when you began to talk.

“Why do I have to be like this?” you asked him, seemingly, hands clutching his tank top.

“Everyone has insecurities. Society makes us, especially women feel like they have to look a certain way, act a certain way. You’re perfectly fine the way you are. You also just ate tomato soup and a sandwich, your belly is going to be a little bigger. That’s simply how humans are made, you can’t avoid it. You’re not ugly or gross for being human. Or for having a couple rolls, or stretch marks. They’re beautiful. You know I always love to see them. Doesn’t make you any less attractive.” he says, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

“Yeah, but why do I have to feel bad about it if it doesn’t matter.” you reply, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I told you, it’s society’s fault for doing that shite to you. It’s not your fault in the least. You’ve been taught to believe all of that. You’re not in the wrong here. You are beautiful, and nobody can take that away from you.” he says, tilting you to the side, looking you in the eyes.

  The two of you had a moment where there was almost silence, the only thing making noise were the kids outside, already in their costumes, cutely saying trick-or-treat. Your sniffles had subsided, and now your eyes were returning to their normal off-white color. Robbie put his fingers under your chin, and leaned towards you, kissing your lips full on. His hand slipped to the small of your back, holding you up. The two of you sat there, quiet in the gathering moonlight, still on the floor enjoying the company.

“You wanna get out of here, so I can get in my costume, and we can get gobsmacked with sweets?” Robbie asked, rubbing knuckles against yours.

“Sure, fuck it.” you say, smiling, grabbing his hand, and heading to the bathroom to get that fake blood, and put it to good use. 

  Robbie went into the bathroom after you, and soon enough, he came out, and that corset was hugging him in all of the right places. You grabbed your pumpkin basket, made of plants, and headed outside, elbows interlocked with Rob’s. The two of you headed to each house in the area, going “trick or treat” to each adult at the door, even getting giggles from little children. It began to rain, and the two of you ran into each puddle on purpose, getting completely soaked in the process. When you two got home, you rid yourselves of the homemade candy, cleaned it all off, and ate some of it. Just as it was reaching the early morning hours, the two of you went to sleep on the couch, snickers bar wrappers surrounding you.

Masterlist

[nattikay]

Do you miss it?

Based on a prompt by @nb-demon in which Jim is “fixed” via a stone that allows him to shift forms like a changeling....except uh probably not exactly what you had in mind because hoo boy do I stand by the idea that troll!Jim does not need to be “fixed” whoop ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Ao3 link

--

Jim turned the smooth stone over in his hand. It shimmered lightly in a way not unlike the sheen of the blue stone in his amulet. The amulet that had changed his life forever when it called out his name nearly forty years ago.

“I’ve been…researching transformation magic,” Douxie the wizard had told him when he presented the stone. “Because of the way Merlin’s potion worked, it can never be truly reversed…but this should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar. In case…in case you miss it.”

“O-oh,” Jim had stammered as he accepted the gift, pocketing it gently. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. “T…thanks. That’s…really thoughtful of you.”

Douxie nodded. “I thought it was only fair. It took a long time to develop, but…I figured you should have the chance to choose the form in which you live without the threat of evil breathing down you neck. Let me know if you have any problems.”

And with that he simply left, off to take care of whatever business wizards do. Jim, too, had duties to tend to, and for the next few hours left the stone in the back of his pocket and mind.

That had been this morning. Now Jim was sitting alone in his home, perched on the lip of his bathtub as he carefully examined the magical stone.

Did he miss being human? He wasn’t sure. Sure, there were days—the particularly tough days that trollhunting lent itself to—when he yearned for the nostalgic days of his human childhood, racing bikes with Toby and eating dinner with his mom. But those days were so far behind him. So much had changed. He had changed—and not just in the obvious ‘I’m partially a different species’ way. He’d grown up, made new memories and experiences. 

Jim glanced up into the mirror across the floor, studying his face. His features were a bit more mature—jaw stronger, shoulders broader, scruff thicker—but despite fast-approaching his 53rd birthday, he looked remarkably similar to how he had the day he defeated Gunmar. He supposed his troll half was responsible for that. Trolls, after all, generally lived for many centuries. He hadn’t asked many ages, but he knew that Blinky, at least, was over 600. Whether he would make it as long as a full-fledged troll, only time would tell—but it certainly seemed he’d outlive most humans. 

Claire, too, no longer looked her age. When she began officially training in sorcery she had gained a wizard’s longevity. Though she certainly appeared more mature than the teenager she’d been when she first began to dabble in the magical world, no one would guess just by looking at her that she was really in her early 50s. In fact, when they were alone together, a part of Jim almost genuinely forgot their true ages. 

Of the original trio, only Toby showed the true passage of time. He’d kept remarkably upbeat and positive as his ginger-brown hair grayed and his face wrinkled, but while their friendship remained true, Jim knew that this gap would continue to widen until one day it would reach a length he could not cross.

Jim’s brows furrowed. His heart ached to think of loosing his lifelong best friend to human age when he, as a half-troll, still had so much life left to live. 

He glanced back down at the smooth stone in his hands. Did he miss being human?  

Had he been presented with this opportunity before, he would have leaped at it. He had made the choice to go half-troll—with the imminent threat of Gunmar and Morgana, it had felt necessary. And, indeed, the improved strength, speed, and stamina he gained from it certainly helped win the battle. 

But once the battle had been won? Well, there had been a lot to get used to. After a lifetime of barely even noticing whether or not the sun was out, suddenly needing to avoid it was a jarring adjustment. His entire palate and nutritional needs changed and his body both felt and looked so strange, so foreign. With the need for trollish strength and speed over, it would have been so much easier, so much more comfortable and familiar to revert to a human form, had it been possible. 

But…

It had actually been years since Jim had to worry about the sun. As the Trollhunter he had access to a variety of stones he could add to his amulet to grant special abilities, including one that immunized him to the trollish sunlight weakness. It was still wise to be careful, and limit his time in the sun if and when possible, but nonetheless the workaround had been effective.

While he was no longer found enjoyment in some of his old favorite foods, he’s found new favorites. It had taken a fair while of experimenting to find the balance of his new palate, and now he couldn’t imagine not being able to eat his spiced metal-mouse stew that had taken Trollmarket by storm. 

And his body…well, it had taken adjustments, but after a while he had come to accept it as it was. Claire had helped a lot with that.

Claire. Her love for him had not wavered for an instant, no matter what he looked like. In fact, he recalled her bashfully admitting not long after beginning their exodus to New Jersey, she rather liked his new appearance. Yes, she’d insisted, even the horns and the teeth and the blue skin. 

This year would be their 35th wedding anniversary. 

They’d even had children together, all four of whom had now grown and left the nest, but still visited frequently. They had been fully bracing themselves for the thought that this would not be possible—would a half-troll still be able to have a baby with a human, or would he be like a mule, unable to breed?

Finding out Claire was pregnant for the first time was one of the most exciting moments of his life…though even that could not compare to the day their daughter was born nine months later, looking surprisingly normal save for unusual pinkish coloration that never quite went away and the two tiny bumps on her little head that would later grow into stubby horns. 

Jim turned the stone over in his hands again and again. His life had turned out pretty well, all things considered. Would it have been better if he were human?

This should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure, Douxie had said. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar.

Like a changeling…so nothing permanent. He’d be able to switch back if he changed his mind. So what could be the harm in…trying?

Jim closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focused on the magic in the stone. He felt himself shifting…

…and opened his eyes to see an older, startlingly human man staring back at him in the mirror.

Jim examined the appearance in shock. He hadn’t seen himself as a human since he was sixteen years old. Of course this form would look different now. Even still, seeing it for real…

He was about half a foot shorter than he’d been before, his dark hair grayed. He’d lost his scruff but kept his sideburns, as well a shadow of hair around his mouth and chin that suggested he ought to shave (unless he wanted to start growing the beard). His skin, though wrinkled, was soft and decidedly not blue.

He was surprised how strange and fragile he felt in this body. In fact, it almost felt as strange as that day he’d woken up on his mother’s couch as a half-troll for the first time…

With a start, Jim suddenly realized that at this point in his life, he’d spent more time as a half-troll than he had as a human. Being half-troll was more normal to him than being human.

“Jim!” a familiar call came from the front door as Claire walked into the underground house. “Are you home? Laura’s here to visit!”

Jim grinned, shaking his head lightly as he reached out to the magic in the stone, re-assuming his half-troll appearance.

“In here, I’ll be out in a minute,” he called back, leaving the stone on the sink as he left to greet his wife and youngest daughter.

No, his life had not been perfect. He’d gone through more than his share of hardships, both before and after finding the amulet, before and after turning half-troll. But it wasn’t without the happy times, either. Throughout all his challenges, he’d been surrounded by friends and family, love and support. Each obstacle he’d faced and overcome helped shape him into who he was today.

Despite the hardships, in the end, he was happy. His life didn’t need fixing. It merely needed living.

And if he could go back, he would’t change a thing.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

don’t stop turn it up

Summary: hii can u do a losers club x reader where they’re teens and at a party trying to take care of drunk Richie and reader except they’re acting crazy? 

warnings: they’re in their first your of college so they’re older then eighteen which is perfectly legal in my country but just for readers from the US: underage drinking 

‘I’m hungry, can we go to McDonalds, please’, you whine, draping yourself over Stanley as he huffs, trying to slip from under you.

‘M-m-McDonalds is a half an hour away Y/N, we’ll go next time’, Bill placates, switching places with Stan, wrapping your arms around his neck in a facsimile of a piggy back ride.

‘No I wanna go now’, you drag out, your head lolling forward to rest on Bill’s shoulders. Your stomach grumbles in agreement, and you giggle at the sound it produces.

‘See, my tummy agrees.’

‘We’re not going anywhere except home.’ Stan’s angrily wiping his sleeve with a napkin he found at the bar, the stain a result of Richie spitting the beverage, water that Ben lied was vodka to sober Richie up, at Stan because of a dare. He’s pissed, and rightfully so, but in your highly intoxicated state, all it does is make you chortle.

The end of the first semester in college has arrived, and to celebrate the losers and you agreed to go to a party a classmate set up, far away enough from your campus that there were no regulation to abide by.

Now, you weren’t a heavy drinker by any means. As a sixteen year old your dad let you take a sip from his coffee laced with some sort of alcohol in it, and your taste buds did not like it, the heavy undertones of extreme sweetness soaked in your tongue, so sweet you feared for cavities in your teeth. However, after hearing the stories Richie and Bev animatedly spilled after a night out, you were willing to take a change and find out just what exactly it was that attracted people to drinking alcohol, and you got buzzed.

The music crackled in the air, deafening your eardrum with the most generic pop music, sweating body polluting the air with their bodily smells and inappropriate touches that by all means should make the receiver confining, and you disliked the scene right away and asked to leave within the first hour of you being there.

A drink offered to by Richie loosened you up, and his antics overleaped to you, following his path to act erratically and with no care in the world. After that, the party was a lot of fun. You were definitely a lightweight, as you only drunk two gin tonic’s before flying off the world and into the unknown, the room swirling around you faster and faster, gripping the bar to steady your wobbling legs.

Richie was no better off, but he had chugged significantly more beers and booze than you had. The two of you took on the role of comedy relief of all the losers, the dances you performed appalling and off beat, or the moment you forgot to take the cap of before guzzling down your next liquid, only to be terminated by the lid, comedy gold.

The little shits also exploited your state to extract all the secret you harbored from them, the time in fifth grade when you accidently wet yourself no longer confidential, but that was okay, because these people were your best friends and for all you cared they could understand you inside and out, and you still wouldn’t feel intimidated by it.

‘Come on’, Bill grinds, hoisting you half over his shoulders. ‘We should get g-g-oing.’

‘I don’t want to’, you complain, levitating your legs off the ground so all your weight land on Bill who, not prepared for this, loosing his footing and pitches to the ground. It’s thanks to Mike’s quick reflexes and his core muscles strength that stops your downfall, towing the both of you up.

‘Be careful Y/N.’

‘You’re not my mother’, you say, sticking out your tongue in Mike’s direction, though your blurry eyesight makes it harder to pinpoint his exact location.

The alcohol is thrumming through your veins, transforming every word and sentences into the funniest things you’ve ever heard, so overly warm as the liquor builds momentum and stuffs your head full of cotton.

‘They’re both going to be so fucking hangover after this.’ Eddie sounds heated, fretting over Richie who smiles to him as if he’s seen the gates of heaven for the very first time. How those two manage to keep the way they’re in love with each other under wraps, you’ll never know.

‘Oh shucks Eds, I guess I’ll have to let your mom down then huh? Shame, she was really looking forward to another one of our escapades.’

‘Shut up asshole, that doesn’t even make any sense.’

‘It doesn’t’? Richie asks genuinely confused, scratching the top of his head.

You cackle with laughter, untangling from Bill and mike in order to sink down onto your knees and then your back, the soft carpet softening the spot designated for you to lay on.

The party is still in full swing, a few people making out in the far end of your eye sight, while others gyrating too fast for your mind to keep up. The colorful lights spin over the ceiling, a magnificent lightshow for only to see. You’re getting tired, but the night as brought noting but wonderful things and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Richie ducks up out of nowhere, cushioning his head on your stomach and gazing at the same light you are. ‘My bodies has never released endorphins so fast before, not even after seeing Eddie,’ Richie blanks out, mind reeling with the implications of what he confessed. After a moment of truthfulness between the two of you he concludes that everyone is able to hear him, so he adds, ‘’s mom’, Richie awes, his hand outstretching to feel the light, as if that’s in any way possible. Regardless of whether or not it was meant as a joke, you begin to howl in joy, the giggles beginning to cramp up your belly.

Stan’s face appears in front of the lights, bend over at an uncomfortable angle to force eye contact. ‘Get up’, he states coolly, not even offering his hand to help you do so.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes Richie’s hand, wrenching Richie up and maneuvering him with his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, distributing Richie’s weight.

Ben is the one to aid you, stealing himself after seeing what happened to Bill. The sudden movement cramps your stomach up in a not so pleasant way, the blood rushing back to your face, forcing the bile back.

‘Do not’, Stan’s tone sharp is as the edge of a knife, ‘throw up on me or so help you I will kill you in the most horrendous way possible.’ Richie laughs like a drain, doubling over and clapping on his knee in pure hilarity.

‘Same goes for you’, Eddie confirms, jabbing his elbow in Richie’s stomach. The movement shoves Richie off balance, his arms fluttering in the air birdlike to regain his balance.

‘Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it’s Richie fucking Tozier’, you cantillate off pitch, egging him on.

 ‘Fear not, for Super Richie’s swooping in to save the day’, he recites in his best Christopher Reese impression, surprisingly well done. ‘What do you say Eds? You wanna be the Lois Lane to my superman?

‘I’m not some fucking damsel in distress Richard.’

‘But you’d let me kiss you?’

‘Yeah Eddie you mmph.’ Beverly’s hand bites of your phrase, the unspoken words formulating and preventing a train wreck waiting to happen. The meaning of why goes unclear to you, lost in the haze of foggy interpretations of incentives picked up by your senses.

In retaliation, you lick Bev’s palm, and she retracts her hand, but not without chuckling about it first. ‘Can I please do one more dance on the table? Please? I’ll even let Mike stop me from falling over this time, just please?’ You pout, bottom lip sticking out, begging wordlessly.

‘No, the uber is right in front and we need to leave n-n-now,’ Bill states resolutely, no room for disagreements or debates, your best interests at heart.

‘Alright fine’, you complain, though you tear up at the sight of all of your friends present around you, all in their element and perfect in their own way. Are you looking forward to going home? No. But if the others do, you’ll blissfully follow them, for they are your happiness. You shouldn’t have started thinking that, because the alcohol made you twice as emotional.    

‘Are you crying right now?’

‘I’m sorry, I just love you all so much,’ you slobber a kiss over at the two people loitering around you, first Stan ,with a kiss to half of his cheek and ear, the coordination letting you down big time, and then Mike, who unlike Stan happily receives the affection.

‘We love you too’, Ben emphasizes, spooked as a girl walks past him and trips over her own to feet. ‘But I want to leave now.’

Mike throws you around in a fireman position, bracketing your legs so you don’t tumble over the other side. With a whistle, you sag down Mike’s back, giddy with it, seeing the world  from a different perspective now.

‘Wow, Stan’s upside down’, you claim fully believing it, and that breaks the last of Stan’s resistance, the edges of his lip twisting up in amusement and a crow galming the room.  

Personally the most amusing thing of going out, Stan think to himself, is the reaction to the mind-numbing ache a hangover conjures, as he finds out in the morning.