#she finally comes and doesn’t even come to the correct address I’m waiting out for her for several minutes asking where she is bc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

streamdotpng · 1 year ago

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Weems was unfortunately used to unexpected visitors. Having been the headmistress of Nevermore Academy for many years (and now with her spectral state, for the foreseeable future), she had seen her share of runaway teens, helicopter parents, and “stork delivered” babies. This, however… this was not something even she could have seen coming.

The girl- well more of a young woman, was curled into the fetal position, her back against the pane window that led to the balcony. She knew Weems was there and Weems knew that she knew. So she waited. It took a few moments, but the young woman finally looked up.

Enid Sinclair looked seconds away from a breakdown.

“Hey Weems.” She greets, her voice watery with barely held back tears.

“…My dear girl, to what do I owe this visit?” Weems asked, softly and without any judgement. The last thing she wanted to do was make Ms. Sinclair believe she was displeased. She still remembers the first family visitation day with the Sinclairs present.

Enid doesn’t immediately answer. In truth, even she isn’t exactly sure why she came here of all places. She just knew she couldn’t stay there with him.

The words start out hesitant. “I- I’m… It just- I wanted- ” a deep breath, “I just needed to get away. I thought I wanted all of it but I was just faking it all. I’d lie and pretend until I could almost believe it myself.”

Enid looked up at the ghost of her old headmistress, a woman who gave her all to keep her students safe and ultimately gave her life for those students and something in her gives. Like a dame breaking, tears flow and Enid sobs. "I don't want to keep faking Principal Weems. I'm so tired. I want it to stop."

Weems patiently waits for the sobs to die down.

(She thought she had come to terms with everything that came with her spectral state but right now she would give anything to be able to touch, to hold, to comfort.)

Eventually the sobs settle and all that is left is sniffles.

“My dear, I may not know the full scope of what is going on but I can promise you that Nevermore will always be a home to you. So long as I am headmistress, no outcast will be turned away. We must look out for our own, no?” she says, the question more rhetorical than literal. Now came the hard part. “Should you decide to remain at Nevermore indefinitely, we will have to find an occupation or apprenticeship for you. Idle hands as the saying goes. But rest assured that while you remain on the academy property I will not allow any harm or harassment to come to you…” a pause “… either of you.”

Enid gasps and curls her arms tighter around herself. So I was correct, Weems thinks.

“Come, Ms. Sinclair and we can discuss in my office the specifics of your stay here.”, with that Weems turns and passes through the dorm door, making her way to her office without looking back.

Enid sits in the same leather upholstered chair she sat in during her initial interview for the academy all those years ago. The office itself hasn’t changed since her years as a student despite it being a little over 6 years since she’d last walked the halls. The same frames on the wall, the same rug on the floor, and the fire place still large and ostentatious. Its familiar in a way that brings at least a little comfort and at this point she’ll take all she can get.

Enid takes all this in before finally looking across the desk. Weems sits (floats? She isn’t quite sure on the logistics of this. Wasn’t her area of expertise.) in her chair, waiting patiently as always. Enid wonders if she just sat here if Weems would just wait forever. Decides to test it some other time.

Breathe in, breathe out. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Even counts. As naturally as possible, Enid thinks to herself. “Should I just address the elephant in the room?” Enid starts.

Weems folds her hands over one another before sitting up straight. “I will admit, Ms. Sinclair, that I am curious about how this situation came to be.” She holds up a hand right as Enid goes to open her mouth. “But no matter how curious I may be, I will not pry if you do not wish to share. I want you to be comfortable and feel safe here. Both will be hard to accomplish if you feel you are not allowed your privacy.”

Enid pauses and considers what’s being offered to her. She could take the out and hash out her contribution to the academy… but it wouldn’t be long before that became harder to avoid. No, Enid would face this head on. She can be brave. (She’s so tired of being scared.) “If it’s alright with you, Principal Weems, I’d like to explain my situation to you.” Weems simply nods for her to continue.

“I-“ Enid pauses. Be brave. “I was in a committed relationship with someone. I loved- I thought I loved him. I convinced myself that I was happy with what we had. We even planned it all out together. A house, kids, even pets.” Breathe in, breathe out. “For awhile I could pretend. Pretend it was good enough. Pretend this was what I wanted for myself.” In through your nose, out through your mouth. “I wasn’t happy Principal Weems. I just told myself over and over that I was until I started to believe it… and then I found out I was pregnant.”

Ah, so she said it, Weems thinks. It seemed to be that admitting it allowed the young werewolf to regain some confidence in her voice.

“I didn’t want to bring a child into this world under false pretenses. If I’m going to go through with this then I want them to know its because I wanted to, not because it was expected of me. I know it won’t be easy and I know I most likely won’t have much support but I’m going to make sure they never doubt for a second that they are wanted and loved.” By the end of it, Enid is crying again. God, Enid hopes she doesn’t fuck this up.

A tissue box moves on its own across the desk towards Enid. She takes the offered tissue and blows her nose before looking in the direction the box came from. Weems has a soft smile on her face and it makes Enid’s heart ache.

“I want to say that this is very brave of you, Ms. Sinclair, but I must correct you on one matter.” Weems says. Enid tilts her head in confusion. Weems’ smile widens as she tells the young woman, “You said you would not have much support. I politely beg to differ. You will have not only my support but the support of the entire staff here at Nevermore. From pre-natal care to remedies for morning sickness, if it is within our power to provide it, we will. You are not alone in this, Enid. Please do try to remember that.”

Enid can feel the now all too familiar feeling of tears building behind her eyes. Even if they’re from happiness and relief, she won’t let them fall. She’s cried enough to water the entire greenhouse. No more tears. For now there was planning to do.

“You mentioned before that I would need to choose an occupation and apprenticeship.” Enid begins tentatively.

“I did, yes. There are many avenues to pursue. I know you excelled in your journalism and communication studies so perhaps you’d like to assist Professor Flynn with her lessons? If not, then perhaps with your grimwolf status you may consi-“ Weems says before being cut off.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could be your assistant.” Enid blurts out.

The headmistress blinks owlishly and Enid doesn’t think she’s ever seen Weems so caught off guard before. “You want to be my assistant?” she asks and receives a nod in reply. “Are you sure my dear? It would be incredibly stressful and not to mention taxing. The amount of work that would be required, I mean, the paperwork alone…”

“I’m sure Principal Weems. I can handle the stress and I mean I did manage to juggle several clubs so I think I can manage some paperwork.” Enid has never been so sure of anything in her life.

Weems takes a moment to consider before nodding her head decisively, “If you are sure of this, then I would be a fool to turn away the help. Admittedly my… state of being does make certain tasks more difficult so it will be handy to have someone around who can actually twist doorknobs and apprehend hooligans.”

Enid laughs. It feels like the first time in forever that it’s a real one. “So when do I begin?”

A week passes and Enid is introduced to the staff as a returning graduate looking to give back to the Academy (certain instructors have been made aware of the pregnancy and also that it is to remain a secret until Enid herself chooses to share that information. Most are understanding, some give her looks that could be described as pity. She chooses to ignore it.) Getting to know all her old professors outside of academia was an experience for Enid but she found that it was easy to fit in amongst the staff. They were welcoming and some even thanked her for saving the academy that one time. Just like her though, these staff members were outcasts looking to help the younger crowds make their way through confusing times. Overall the adjustment period was straightforward and easy.

She had also been assigned her own room down the hall from Weems’ office. Oftentimes the two would spend the day in the office together. Weems dictating notes and floating documents into neat piles while Enid organized cabinets and set about figuring out priorities for club, sport, and class material requisitions. It was taxing and tiring but rewarding work. Sometimes she’d even get Weems to talk about her own days at Nevermore. There was a certain nostalgia in her voice when she’d talk of the things she and her roommate would get into.

Weems had just gotten done telling Enid about the last time Ophelia Hall had won the Poe Cup when she took on a pensive look. Enid had an idea of what was coming, and she thought she was prepared for it but it still felt like a kick to the gut (she was well acquainted with the feeling).

“Forgive me for asking, but while I am thrilled to have you here, I can’t help but wonder why it was here that you came to.” Weems says, trying to word her next question considerately “I recall you and the young Ms. Addams to be particularly close, why not seek her out first?”

Enid pauses. Tries not to get caught up in memories. Fails. (Cold body in her lap, warm breath on her skin. Hands wander under clothes and into her hair. She holds tight enough that her claws prick skin. Knows that's how she likes it.) She shakes her head to dislodge the memory. Feels for a moment like Weems isn’t the only ghost in the room. Remembers she was asked a question. “We, um, just kinda drifted away from each other. Headed in different directions, you know?” Enid prays that Weems believes her.

Weems does not.

But she knows better than to push. Should Ms. Sinclair choose to share the truth with her then that would be her decision to make and at her own pace. Weems can be patient.

“I see. Well then it is fortunate for me that you chose here instead. I shudder to think of having to deal with these petty supplies’ politics by myself.” And with that they move onto work related topics and Enid can breathe again.

Night has fallen over Nevermore Academy and Weems is winding down from another day preparing for the new academic year. Two months have passed since Ms. Sinclair joined the academy staff as her assistant and during those two months the young wolf has done a phenomenal job. As a matter of fact, Weems is almost certain that she can truly begin training Ms. Sinclair as her successor as headmistress. No sooner than she finished that thought does her office phone ring. There’s a sinking feeling in her gut that she is all too familiar with. The phone continues to ring and she contemplates simply not answering it. But she know that the person on the other end of the line will not simply give up. If anything it might prompt them to make a personal appearance and that is not something Weems can risk. She picks up the phone.

“Good evening, Larissa.” Morticia’s voice floats through the receiver.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your calling, Ms. Addams?” Weems asks. The sooner they cut to the chase the better.

“Come now Larissa, drop the formality I only want to congratulate you.”

“Congratulate me?”

“Why on your successor, of course.”

If Weems still had veins there would be nothing but ice flowing through them.

“Who else have you told?” Weems could hear the edge in her own voice.

“No one. I called you immediately after having my vision. Larissa?”

“You must keep this to yourself.” Weems doesn’t even know where to begin in getting her point across. “Morticia, please. Please do not tell anyone that she is here.”

There’s silence on the other end of line. For a moment Weems wonders if the call disconnected but then.

“I would like to know why I should keep this secret from my daughter. When, not if, when she finds out…” Morticia didn’t need to finish the sentence. Weems was well aware of the temper the eldest Addams progeny had.

“I cannot share the details but I will not have all this progress be undone. Enid has come so far in such short time but she is still mending. I will not risk it. Needless to say if I catch wind of anything I-“

“There is no need for all that.” Morticia cuts in “You have my word that no one will be privy to this information but you and me.”

Weems sighs. “Thank you, Tish, you have my sincere gratitude.”

Morticia knowingly hums in response.

“Well once again Larissa I must congratulate you. She is a wonderful heir.” the Addams matriarch begins “I’m sure she’ll make you proud.”

“Indeed, she will, no matter what happens.” (They both know they’re no longer talking about the school.)

“Sweet dreams Larissa.”

“Terrible nightmares Tish.”

It's nearly midnight for me rn but I wanted to get this out before I lost the juice

HELLO?

FROGGT YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE IT LIKE THAT WHAT HAPPENED????

WHO'S THE MAN ENID DATED, WHY DID WENCLAIR DISTANCE THEMSELF??? WHY IS ENID WORKING THERE NEEDING TO BE SUCH A SECRET???

I got too much questions bro, I need to know

YOU CAN'T JUST HOOK ME AND LEAVEEE

#Writing #Wtf #Is so good mate #Au thoughts #Yall so talented

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outoftheframework · 4 years ago

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my proposal for tropes we as a fandom should adopt in all fanworks going forward: Duke Thomas edition

So every fandom has tropes and characterization quirks that have been generally accepted into fanon and, like, maybe? they were originally based on some obscure comic panel from the 80s or something but it doesn’t really matter because we’re all just,,, cool with it? Like for example- in the dc comics fandom, an art piece could show 3 of the bats that look virtually identical except one of them is holding a box of cereal so that one is obviously Dick Grayson. . . Y’know?

Anyway, these things usually come up naturally I guess but I’ve been here a while and it’s finally time to put my foot down. It’s high time for Duke Thomas to be more in fanon than “the sane one.” Because he might be the relatively new guy but he is certainly fears no gods or laws of the land just as much as the other bats, lemme tell ya.

TL;DR here are character quirks (”canon-based” or otherwise) that we should all really latch onto seriously I’m begging y’all to make at least one of these happen-

Duke “Habitually Jumping Out of Moving Vehicles” Thomas

This one’s actually based in canon y’all; Duke did indeed yeet himself out of the back of a cop car and off of a bridge (in We Are... Robin). Normalize Duke’s wearing knee and elbow pads as Signal because jumping out of a car turns out relatively fine once and then suddenly Batman’s rooftop disappearing act seems mellow compared to the amount of times Gordon has whipped his head around to see a now Signal-less backseat.

Like, he’s going 60 mph?? And he didn’t even hear the door open?? and tHE DOORS ARE STILL LOCKED??

Imagine this leaking into civilian life and Bruce waking up to a blurry photo of Duke mid-escape from a limousine on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.

(more under cut)

Duke “Puzzles are my Passion” Thomas

Duke is ~canonically~ very skilled at both solving and concocting riddles (as a child during that time where The Riddler just,,, controlled Gotham, he worked non-stop on riddles, trying to make the perfect one). Please y’all- let Duke solve puzzles. Have the other bats ask him for help after 36 hours straight of brooding over some brainteaser that Duke works out within the half-hour. He texts a picture of the solution scribbled out on loose leaf in the margins of his pre-calc homework because this boy shows his work.

My guy is a word-cross FIEND. A mind-sweeper speed-runner. That guy who mails into the Gazette to correct a solution in the “fun & games” section and also ps that photo is not of me I am simply a polite young man who is much too busy writing into the paper in the year 2021 to jump out of limos-

I also would love to see this integrated into the type of cases he investigates / runs into on his daytime patrol. Like, obviously the criminal activity is going to dramatically differ before and after sundown, but that doesn’t make Duke’s work any easier or less important. It’s a different skillset; he has to work differently. Instead of jumping into fights, halting mob meetings, saving civilians in dark allies, etc. Duke has to sort through all of the moving pieces before they all converge into something catastrophic.

It’s a known fact that criminal organizations in Gotham make and execute a lot of behind-the-scenes plans during the day specifically not to run into the bats. And Duke knows and monitors this shit all by himself; his work is crucial to logistics and information gathering for the bats as a whole. Now criminals have like, a 2 hour gap between bat-shifts to try and get stuff done. But Duke would 100% set traps on timers or lead them on this pre-set convoluted goose chase to distract them until the night bats come out and to let himself enjoy the whole thing playing out on the news while he finishes homework that’s due at midnight.

Duke “I Know a Guy” Thomas

So in going off of the basic concept for the “We Are. . . Robin” run in combination to his general likability, Duke has a lot of friends all around Gotham. Okay, sure, he doesn’t have a Super best friend or a Speedster on speed dial, but he does know this guy who details cars up on West 35th and will tell them all about the new mods on Black Mask’s transport vans if they come through the third floor window and bring takeout.

Bruce and Tim will be waiting for the facial recognition software to identify at least a partial match off of security cam footage when Duke pulls into the cave, takes one look at the screen, and says “Oh, that’s <insert name, address, abridged life story, and known associates here>.” This also brings in the opportunity for Duke to have some sort of perfect recall for faces, voices, names, etc. which I think could be a really cool element for his position as the batfamily member who has a lot more personal interaction with the people of Gotham.

I’m also into the idea of a lot of people knowing/telling stories about Duke. Not to reference the Chuck Norris meme but almost like the Chuck Norris meme lmao. Think about Jason mentioning his brother to someone and she replies, “Duke Thomas? Like that Duke Thomas? The one who swam across the harbor because he said it’d be faster than the subway and it actually was?” These stories have varying levels of truth to them but Duke will never confirm nor deny when he gets random calls from family members yelling “you dID WHAT”

So those are my top three, and the following is a little speed-round of headcanons :)

Duke has a super expressive face. Like when he’s relaxed around family, you can tell exactly what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling by his visual reactions to things

Duke rotates through picking up new and revisiting old hobbies at a pretty rapid pace. Some hobbies include: bullet journaling, origami, viola, cello, synth, conversational basics in multiple languages, up-cycling and embroidering clothes

Duke has a really fucking adorable smile. He can’t help it. He’ll try to grin sarcastically or smug to be annoying but his smile just cannot be anything other than endearing. He also has a very specific booming laugh that’s an absolute treasure to hear, because it’s the most genuinely happy thing ever.

Duke unironically enjoys Signal by Twice even though the first time he heard it was after Steph had set it as his morning alarm.

So.

Come and get your food, I guess.

Feel free to add on if you’d like! I’d love to see anything you guys write/draw/etc. based on anything from here if you feel compelled to do so!

Stay safe and be well :)

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

Text

Under the Radar

Severus Snape x Fem! Professor! Reader

Warnings: None.

Request: hiii can I request a husband Severus Snape x wife reader. The reader is a professor in Hogwarts they don't want the students to know so they kept it a secret. And the Weasley twins are the first to know. (the Weasley twins are close to reader since she's kind thanks.) and you can continue it your own way. (灬º‿º灬)♡

Word Count: 2,014

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,”

“You have class in fifteen minutes, Severus.” You nagged at your husband who was still sprawled out in bed.

A groggy chuckle escaped from the man as he finally sat up on his elbows to look at you, watching as you hurried to get dressed before you were horribly late.

“So do you, love.” He countered.

“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” You argued with a slight roll of your eyes; “And you are not.”

“It doesn’t take me long. You know this.” He bantered.

It was true after all. Severus didn’t put that much effort into getting ready everyday. Pants, robes, shoes, and MAYBE brush his hair. That was the morning routine of Severus Snape. You were a bit more refined, taking time to pick out an outfit and making yourself look presentable to your personal standards.

“I know, but do you really want your Potions classroom unattended with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors?” You grinned, knowing that they’d wreak havoc sooner or later.

Severus groaned at the thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time where he walked in at the last minute to stop Ron Weasley from throwing a cauldron at Draco Malfoy’s head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, padding to his closet where you stood as well.

“One of these days, I’ll get a morning of peace and have you for myself.” He grumbled.

You gave a mocking, sympathetic pout at your mumbling husband. You took his face into your hands, drumming your fingers playfully along his cheeks.

“Poor baby. Because you NEVER get any time with me.” You said with a tone thick with sarcasm.

Severus huffed, but his arms snaked around your waist.

“Is it so wrong to want a quiet morning with my wife?” He questioned.

Severus had a point. It had been quite some time since the two of you had the opportunity to sleep in, to drown out the world until the two of you felt ready to brave it together. He missed waking you up by peppering you with lazy kisses and soft, sweet mumbles in your ear. Life had just gotten so busy that things weren’t exactly what he would consider standard for the two of you.

It also didn’t help that outside of your private bedroom, you weren’t exactly a public couple. Aside from the faculty and staff of Hogwarts, none of the students had any knowledge of yours and Severus’ marriage. It had been a mutual decision, considering that neither of you were sure you wanted all the kids knowing that two professors were married to one another. While your last name had legally been changed to Snape, you were always referred to by your maiden name. As far as the students knew, you and Severus hadn’t even ever had a conversation, let alone tied the knot almost three years ago.

“I know, Sev. I’ll tell you what. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow since it’s Saturday. We can sleep in...” You said, lowering your voice to a whisper in his ear; “And I’ll be all yours all day.”

The way that his eyes lit up made your heart leap. He kissed you excitedly, your laugh muffled under the kiss. Despite the fact that you had a ten minute head start, Severus still managed to be ready before you, stealing another quick kiss before he was out the door en route to the dungeons.

Your classes went smoothly as usual. The students were peppy with energy since it was Friday, but their focuses were very in tune with your lessons for the day. You had returned to your office after classes to do some fast grading before giving in to the weekend. Most of the students had returned to their dorms to have some down time before getting into their weekend shenanigans. However, it seemed that your biggest fans were even more boisterous than usual.

Your office door swung open rather abruptly, causing you to flinch and grab at your chest in alarm.

“Hi, Professor!” Fred Weasley screeched.

“Hey, Professor [Y/N]!” George echoed.

The red-headed twins were (without a doubt) very fond of you. Your personality just seemed to mix well with theirs, and you were always willing to take time out of your day to chat with them. You were usually one of the first to know about their daring pranks, always having to fake your surprise when they actually did them.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted with a smile.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for students to come by your office during the day. Usually it was because they had a concern about their performance in your class or confusion on an assignment. With the Weasley twins, though, they always came by just because they felt like it.

“Grading on a Friday?” Fred acquired, plopping down into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

George tutted, eyeing over the stack of tests on your desk.

“It’s a shame. You should be out getting knackered at The Three Broomsticks with McGonagall.” George said, scanning nosily over the objects on your bookshelf.

You snorted, resuming your grading.

“I’ll leave the heavy imbibing to the two of you. The day that I see Minerva McGonagall getting hammered at a bar will be the day that I become a Legilimens.” You replied.

George and Fred snickered, continuing to talk your ears off while they snooped around. You never minded their company, as long as they didn’t stop your grading progress. You didn’t notice when the two of them went quiet. You also didn’t notice when George silently called for his brother to join him across the room.

Fred got up from his seat to see what George had found, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he saw what it was. You had a habit of leaving your stuff laying around random areas of your office, so sometimes little hints of your relationship with Severus were out in the open for anyone to see. However, George and Fred were the only people on the planet who would actually find anything.

On one of your bookshelves rested an empty, opened envelope. It was a letter from a pen pal friend of yours that you had lost physical contact with after you graduated from Hogwarts. However, the kicker was that the addressed name on the front wasn’t what the twins would have expected to see.

It was addressed to you, using your married name.

George and Fred looked at each other with quizzical expressions. Why in the world would you have something addressed to you with Snape’s last name? George and Fred had this weird, telepathic twin communication thing that always freaked you out. They could sort out a problem or have a conversation without ever saying anything.

Their puzzled looks faded into realization when they sorted it out. They almost couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape married to one of the friendliest, nicest professors? It was shocking...but it did make sense.

You always wore a wedding ring on your left hand, but no one seemed to know who the lucky guy was. You were very private about your personal life.

Fred pocketed the envelope, and George announced their exit.

“Lovely to see you as always.” He said, holding down his giggle.

“Yeah, we’ll see you Monday, Professor.” Fred added on, ushering his brother out before either of them could blow it.

You gave them a friendly wave as they left, still clueless to the fact that they had found out your secret.

Monday morning rolled around (after Severus’ promised Saturday morning in) once again, and another week had begun. It didn’t take long for you to notice that something was odd.

Students all day had been acting strangely. Their quiet whispers and sneaky giggles when they passed by you in the corridors were definitely suspicious. You couldn’t get them to pay attention in class for the life of you, all of them clearly preoccupied.

“Draco Malfoy,” You snapped, hands on your hips; “Just what are you laughing about now?”

Draco’s laughter stopped, but his amused smile never left his face. This was the third time today that you had gotten on to him for disrupting class, him and Crabbe chuckling on and off about something.

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco replied, still chortling under his breath.

You sighed out heavily. All of the kids were testing your nerves today.

“If I hear any more interruptions from you, I’ll have to give you detention,” You scolded, but in a calm tone; “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, waiting until your back turned to the board again before he responded.

“Yes, Professor Snape.”

Your writing stopped, the entire classroom bursting into hushed laughter. You turned to face the young Malfoy, his cheeks flushed as he and Crabbe failed to contain their laughter any longer. It was obvious now that the whispers and weird glances were due to the fact that they knew. Somehow, they had found out.

“Professor [L/N].” You corrected.

“Hmm, but technically you’re Professor Snape.” He hummed.

You bit your cheek in thought. If they knew, there wasn’t any sense in denying it. But you were curious as to how this started.

“Draco, how did you all find out?” You questioned.

He shrugged with a smirk.

“I heard it from Pansy.” He admitted.

You looked to Pansy.

“Blaise told me.” She confessed.

You followed the trail of names and who-told-who until it stemmed back to the original perpetrators. Two suspects that you should have figured long ago.

“The twins. Of course.” You sighed.

The students had questions (and a lot of them), curious to know how long and how it had happened. Most of them were just stunned that Severus Snape actually had a life outside of his classroom. A life with someone like YOU nonetheless.

You were fidgety to talk to Severus about it. You were curious to see how he’d react and how this would change the way the two of you interacted during the school year. After all, it was kind of your fault for leaving your stuff around.

“Were the students acting peculiar to you today?” Severus asked, breaking you from your thoughtful daze.

Your gaze snapped up from your dinner plate as you peered at him with a fluttery belly.

“Peculiar how?” You asked.

“They all seemed mischievous. As if they knew something they weren’t supposed to.” Severus claimed, looking at you as if he already knew the reason why.

“Well, now that you mention it...they sort of know about us...that we’re married.” You confessed.

Truthfully, Severus didn’t care that much if the student body knew. It was inevitable that they’d all find out eventually, but he was interested to hear how exactly the cat was let out of the bag.

“They ‘sort of’ know?” He questioned, clearly amused; “How’s that?”

You sucked in a breath.

“The Weasley twins might’ve figured it out. They’re smart, Sev. Much smarter than you give them credit for,” You babbled; “It’s not their fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop, stop,” He cut you off with a soft smile; “You don’t think I’m mad about this, do you?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his gentle tone, but your eyes remained wide.

“It’s just that we...always wanted to keep it a secret.” You reminded him.

His head nodded and he set his fork down to give you his full attention.

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,” Severus pointed out; “I could never keep you hidden away forever.”

Your cheeks burned at his compliment, your smile beaming at him. He nudged your foot under the table. It was a wondrous thought to think about how different (or not) things would be now that they knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll still have to keep my maiden name. To avoid confusion.” You stated.

“Of course. Just as long as you’re still my Mrs. Snape.” He grinned with a wink.

You returned with a laugh, prompting the end of the lighthearted conversation.

“That I can definitely promise.”

#severus snape #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape x female reader #severus snape fluff #severus snape imagine #severus snape oneshot #severus snape x professor #seriouslysnape

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Where My Feet Take Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: the boys chase a drunk Tom down the street and he tries to make things right with you

Masterlist

“Hello?” Tom called out as he walked into the house. “I’m home.”

“Tom?” You froze in your tracks as a chill went down your spine. He came into your shared bedroom with an unsuspecting smile on his face, making your hands clench around the box in your hands.

“Hi darling.” He greeted you as he set his suitcase on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” You asked softly.

“I live here.” He teased before his eyes fell on the box in your hands. His face crumpled as he read “picture frames” written on the side in your handwriting.

“What are you doing?” He asked weakly, eyes never leaving the box.

“You said you were coming home tomorrow.” You reminded him.

“My flight was changed.” He told you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “You weren’t supposed to be home.”

“What are you doing?” He repeated, firmly this time. You looked down at the box, unable to look him in the eyes as he slowly figured out what was happening.

“I’m leaving.” You mumbled without lifting your head. Tom slowly looked around the room, finally seeing how empty it was without your belongings. He looked at you in confusion and you nearly broke down.

“You.” You continued. “I’m leaving you.”

“What?” His asked, voice cracking. “Why?”

“You’re never here.” You told him with a shaking voice. “I’m on my own more than I’m with you. And when you’re gone, you don’t call. You don’t call or text or really give me any sort of indication that you remember me. I can’t do this anymore, Tom. I’m done.”

“But...what?” He rubbed his face as he tried to process what you were saying.

“I’m not happy, Tom.” You said weakly. “You’re a perfect boyfriend when you’re home but the second you leave for work, it’s like I don’t exist.”

“That’s not true.” He protested.

“Its not?” You laughed sadly. “We hardly ever speak. Look at your phone. When was the last time you texted me?”

Tom took out his phone, sure that you were wrong. He looked at his messages and sure enough, you were right.

“Wednesday.” He answered sheepishly.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s Monday.”

“You’re leaving me because I haven’t texted you in a few days?” He asked.

“It’s not just that.” You whined and walked past him. He ran after you and stood in front of you.

“Then what is it?” He asked as he blocked your path.

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. You should know.” You said and tried to move past him.

“But I don’t. Please, baby. I don’t understand.”

You stopped trying to get past him and looked into his glassy eyes. It took everything in you not to unpack the box and stay with him. As much as you wanted to stay, you knew you had to leave.

“Thomas.” You sighed. “I wake up every morning and I have no idea if you love me or not. I can’t keep waiting for you to let me be a part of your life. I have to go.”

You walked past him and went out the front door with him following behind you.

“Please.” He begged. “Don’t leave. I can change.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You said as you walked faster to your car. You tried to open your car door but he put his hand on it to keep it closed.

“It will be different this time.” He assured you. “I promise.”

You looked at all your belongings in the backseat of your car for a minute before looking back at him. He was silently begging you to stay as tears slipped from his eyes.

“I just can’t believe you.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

You walked around the car and got in the front seat but he caught the door before you could shut it.

“But, darling.” He cried. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You told him. His eyes lit up as he hoped that meant you were changing your mind.

“It’s just not enough.” You continued. His hand slipped off the door in shock, and you were able to shut it. He watched you pull away as tears fell from his eyes, and that’s when he knew he had lost.

2 months later

The boys were sitting around in Harrison’s living room, all mindlessly scrolling through their phones. Tom noticed Harrison’s smile suddenly, then look at Harry and Sam. They shook their heads at him and Harrison quickly put his phone down.

“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the strange interaction. The boys exchanged a look, and silently decided not to lie to him.

“Y/n just congratulated me The Irregulars.” Harrison explained. Tom stiffened when he heard your name and looked to the other boys.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded slowly. “She texted me too. She liked my cameo in Cherry.”

“I wonder how she’s been.” Sam said, earning a glare from Harrison and Harry. Tom let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his face, also wondering how you had been. He couldn’t find the words to say, so he just hung his head in shame.

“Sorry, mate.” Harrison apologized. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s fine.” Tom shrugged as he got up. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and sipped it while looking out the window.

“I talked to my friend from work. Remember I told you about Holly?” Sam changed the subject. “She said she’d go out with you tonight if you want.”

“Sure.” Tom replied, hardly listening.

“Give her a chance mate.” Sam suggested. “You might like her.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “Especially since Y/n-“

Harry was cut off with a harsh series of hushes from the other boys. Tom returned his attention to them, knowing they were trying to keep something from him.

“What about Y/n?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Harrison said as he glared at Sam.

“Harry.” Tom singled him out. Harry looked at him apologetically and sighed.

“I heard shes seeing someone.” He admitted. Tom stumbled backwards a little as the wind was knocked out of him. He sat back down in the living room and stared at the wall.

“Dude.” Sam hit his arm.

“He asked.” Harry defended himself. “And he was gonna find out eventually.”

“Tom, you okay?” Harrison asked.

“I’m fine.” Tom replied as he wiped his eyes. “When does that Hazel want to meet?”

“It’s Holly.” Sam corrected. “And she said anytime.”

“All right.” Tom downed the rest of his beer and stood up. “I’m ready. Text me the address.”

“Don’t you want to get dressed?” Harrison asked kindly, noticing Tom’s week old pajamas.

“I am dressed.” Tom gestured to himself.

“When was the last time you showered?” Harry wondered.

“Or shaved?” Sam added.

“Wednesday.” Tom shrugged.

“Mate.” Harrison sighed. “It’s Monday.”

“Well if she doesn’t like me for me, she’s more the one.” Tom gave them a tipsy smile and opened the front door.

“Okay.” Sam said wearily. “Have fun.”

Less than two hours later, Tom stumbled back through the front door and flopped onto the couch.

“Hey, man.” Sam greeted when he heard Tom come in. “How’d it go?”

“Horrible.” Tom mumbled. “She ordered Y/n’s favorite drink and it was downhill from there.”

“Tom.” Sam sighed and rubbed his brothers back.

“Sam.” Tom whined. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want Y/n. I miss her.”

“I’m sorry, mate.” He said. “But it’s over with Y/n. You have to move on.””

“I can’t move on.” Tom teared up again. “I love her.”

“I know you do.” Sam nodded. “But you can love her from a distance.”

“No.” Tom decided as he struggled it stand up. “I have to go to her house. I can talk some sense into her.”

Harry walked into the room right as Sam was trying to reign Tom in.

“What’s he doing?” Harry asked as he helped keep Tom in place.

“He’s drunk.” Sam explained. “And he’s trying to go to Y/n’s house.”

“I have to see her.” Tom slurred and went for the door.

“Woah woah woah.” Harry held him back. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“She’ll listen to me.” Tom declared. “She’ll listen this time. I know she will.”

“I think you should lie down and get some sleep.” Sam suggested.

“No.” Tom broke free from their grasp. “I’m going to her flat.”

“You can’t drive. You’re drunk.” Harry reminded him.

“I’ll walk.” Tom said as he went out the front door.

“Oh no.” Sam groaned. “Grab him.”

Harry and Sam chased Tom down the hall right as Harrison was coming up the elevator.

“Woah. Where’s he going?” He asked.

“To Y/n’s house.” Harry quickly explained as Tom ran out the front door of the apartment building. “Oh no. He got away!”

The boys quickly ran out of the apartment and searched the street for where Tom had gone.

“Tom!” Harrison called. “Where did you go?”

“Oh God.” Sam spotted him in the distance. “He’s running down the street.”

“Come on.” Harry sighed. “We have to get him.”

The boys chased Tom down the street, but never caught up to them. Even while drunk, he was faster than them. Tom found your apartment building and easily made it past the doorman. The boys finally caught up to him in the hallway by your door.

“Tom.” Harry tugged his arm towards the elevator. “We have to go home.”

“No.” Tom fought back. “I have to see her. I have to get her back.”

“You can’t just show up there.” Harrison protested. “She won’t open the door.”

“I have to talk to her.” Tom slurred. “I have to try.”

“Just let him go.” Sam sighed. “We’re not gonna be able to stop him.”

Harry reluctantly let go of Tom’s arm and let him go to your door.

“Y/n!” Tom called as he knocked on your door. “Open the door please. It’s Thomas.”

“Come on. You saw her door. Let’s go home.” Harry tried to tug him again.

“Y/n!” He ignored Harry and called again.

“She’s not home, mate.” Sam shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“No. I have to see her.” He cried and knocked again. “Y/n. It’s Tommy. Open the door please.”

Suddenly, you opened your front door to see the boys with their arms around Tom, attempting to pull him away.

“Tom?” You asked when your eyes fell on him. Tom’s face softened and for a minute, he was stone cold sober. You couldn’t help but smile a little at him after not seeing him for months.

“We’re sorry.” Harrison apologized. “We couldn’t stop him.”

“Hi darling.” Tom said weakly.

“Hi.” You chuckled a little at the sight in front of you. “Is he drunk?”

“Out of his mind.” Sam confirmed.

“I’m so sorry for everything.” Tom told you. “I’m sorry I drove you to leave.”

“Tommy.” You said softly, finally seeing how broken he was without you. Your heart physically hurt from how badly you missed him.

“Please take me back.” He begged. “I miss you so much. I just want...”

Before he could finish his sentence, he passed out on the floor with a hard thud.

“Oh my God.” You gasped as stated at his limp body. “Is he okay?”

“I’m sorry.” Harrison grabbed his leg and began to tug it. “We’ll take him home.”

“Wait. It’s okay.” You stopped him. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I dated him for three years. I know how to take care of him.” You smiled softly.

“All right.” Harrison nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. I miss you guys.” You said as you pulled them into a group hug.

“We miss you.” Harry said as he patted your back. “Just keep an eye on him, okay? He does this a lot. It’s the first time he’s been able to slip through our fingers.”

“I’ll look after him.” You assured them. “And I’ll see you all soon.”

“See you.” Harrison called as they walked towards your elevator. With the boys gone, you turned your full attention to Tom.

“Come on.” You shook him gently. “It’s time to get up.”

“Y/n?” Tom asked in a daze as he slowly woke up.

“Yeah, it’s me.” You chuckled as you tried to lift him. “God, you’re heavy. Woah, and stinky.”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled from the ground.

“I know. Stand up.” You commanded, and this time he listened. He slowly stood up and swayed a little on his feet.

“We’re going inside, okay?” You said as you wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Lean on me.”

You helped Tom into your apartment as he hung on your side like dead weight. His head was buried in your hair as you slowly helped him inside.

“You smell good.” He slurred in your ear.

“I wish I could say the same for you.” You teased as you held your breath. You carefully brought him to your couch and began to set him down.

“All right. Easy does it.” You said as you took his arm off of you and let him sit. Tom slumped on your couch like a rag doll and ran his fingers over the material.

“This is your couch?” He asked sleepily.

“Yeah.” You told him. “The previous owner left it.”

Tom winced a little as he remembered that you no longer lived with him and now had a place of your own.

“It’s nice.” He smiled weakly. “We used to have a couch together.”

“Yeah. We used to have a lot together.” You said softly as you sat next to him on the couch. Even though he was drunk, you could see the remorse in Tom’s eyes. He rubbed your couch with his hand and pouted.

“I miss that.” He mumbled. “I miss you.”

“I know, bear.” You modded. “Me too.”

“It’s been so long since you called me that.” He smiled a little when he heard his old nickname from your lips.

“I know.” You chuckled. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

“It’s my fault.” His smile fell. “I fucked everything up.”

“Yeah.” You said quietly. “You did.”

“I’m so sorry.” He told you. “I’ll never stop being sorry.”

“I’d be a lot more willing to forgive you if you took a shower.” You scrunched your nose at him.

“I can do that.” He laughed in his drunken state and tried to stand up. He almost fell over, but you quickly caught him.

“Come on.” You laughed as helped him walk towards the bathroom. “Into the bathroom.”

You lead him into the bathroom and let him lean against you as you walked. You told him it was to help keep him on his feet, but you really just missed his touch.

“Okay.” You pushed the bathroom door open. “We’re here. This is my shower.”

Tom stared at it for a minute as if he’d never seen a shower before.

“How do I use it?” He looked to you for help.

“You just turn the knob.” You laughed and turned the knob towards the hot water.

“Thats too much responsibility for me”. Tom mumbled under his breath.

“Its okay. It’s already warm.” You said as you ran your hand under the water. “Shampoo and conditioner are on the floor. The soap is in the dish.”

As you turned around, you saw Tom tangled up in his shirt with his arms crossed.

“Oh no.” You chuckled. “What happened here?”

“I’m stuck.” His voice was muffled behind the shirt over his head.

“I can see that. Come here.” You gestured for him to come over and he stumbled towards you. You helped him pull his shirt the rest of the way off, reminding you of that way you used to be. He flushed a little under your gaze, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“You stink.” You scrunched your nose up again when his must hit you.

“I know.” He smiled a little. “Sorry.”

“I took one of your razors by accident. It’s in the cabinet behind the mirror.” You told him. “Use it, please. You look like a pedophile.”

“I’ll use it.” He said, never taking his eyes off you. You stared back at him as you fought the urge to lean in and kiss him right there. You took a step back before you could get ahead of yourself and patted his chest.

“Okay.” You smiled shyly at him. “Have fun in there.”

“I’ll try.” He called after you as you left the bathroom.

When Tom came out of the shower, there was a pile of his clothes sitting on the counter. You had stolen enough of his clothes to throw together an outfit for him. Next to the clothes was a glass of water and some aspirin. He got dresses, popped the pills in his mouth and downed the water before finding his razor in the cabinet.

Once he was done, he padded back into your kitchen and found you sitting at the island.

“There you are.” You smiled at him. “Much better.”

“I feel better.” He told you. “I puked in your toilet though.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I made you some food to fill back up.” You said as you put a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. He looked at you gratefully before digging in.

“Thank you so much.” He said with a mouthful. “I haven eaten in hours.”

“Really? You didn’t eat on your date?” You asked as you put another glass of water by his plate.

“I was hardly even there.” He shook his head. “I drank half the bar though. Wait, how did you know about my date?”

“Harry tells me everything.” You chuckled. “I knew you were on your way here before you even left.”

“Damn.” He laughed as well. You sat in comfortably silence until Tom remembered what drove him to get drunk in the first place. “He told me you were seeing someone.” He said without making eye contact with you.

“It’s not serious.” You shrugged. “It’s only been a few dates.”

Tom felt sick to his stomach as you confirmed his worst nightmare.

“Does he call when he says he will?” He laughed humorlessly.

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “And he texts me too.”

“Wow.” Tom rolled his eyes and took a bite of his toast. You got up and poured hot water into a mug before putting his favorite tea bag in it.

“And he owns his own business so he works whatever hours he wants.” You continued as you set the mug in front of him. “No weeks away in other cities.”

“He sounds perfect.” Tom mumbled as he took a sip of his tea.

“Yeah.” You nodded as you sat back down. “I wouldn’t really know, though.”

“Why not?” Tom perked up.

“Cause when I’m with him, all I think about is you.” You said sheepishly. Tom froze and looked at you hopefully when he heard you say this. You gave him a small smile and leaned your chin in your hand, raising your eyebrow a little to tell him the ball was in his court.

“I don’t deserve a second chance from you.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“Maybe not.” You agreed. “But I’m giving you one anyway.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He wondered. “You never had to open the door. But you let me in, cleaned me up and made me all this food. I broke your heart, remember? Why would you do all this for me?”

“Because I love you.” You said simply. “And l’ve been miserable without you. I should’ve stayed and worked things out. I can’t tell you how much I regret leaving like that.”

“It’s okay.” He nodded and put his hand on top of yours. “It was my fault. I drove you to leave. But I promise, if you come back, everything will be different. I’ll call you so much, you’ll get sick of me. And I’ll start taking you with me when I work. No more months away. I promise.”

“I really want to believe you.” You sighed and toyed with his fingers. “I already know you’re sorry. You left me about 40 voicemails telling me that you are. You’re lucky I haven’t turned one into a song yet.”

“I guess I am pretty lucky.” He chuckled slightly.

“I still might.” You teased. “Next time you piss me off, I’m making a single out of “y/nnnn. I miss you. Please take me back” and getting on the charts.”

“Please don’t.” He whined as he got out of his seat and walked around the kitchen island to be near you.

“As long as you keep your word and make some changes, I won’t have to.” You smiled softly now that he was close to you.

“Thank you for letting me in tonight.” He spoke softly as he eyes stayed on your lips. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, bear.” Your lips tugged into a full smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your forehead against his, relishing in his warmth. Tom took the initiative to lean forward and kiss you for the first time in two months. Three actually, since he’d been away working. You pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, feeling like you never wanted to pull away.

“Thank you for taking me back. I love you so much.” He mumbled against your lips. You rested your head on his shoulder and gently swayed with him in the kitchen, missing him more than words can say.

“I love you too, bear.”

Tag List 🏷

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper @thestylestour @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @okkulta @parkerlovebot @jungkxxkk @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @whatthefuckimbisexual @olixerwxxd @starkbrain @creatorofthegalaxy @thatwilbursootsimp @ilovefrogs1000 @itstaskeen @itmatteredatthetime @wrendermeuseless @amazinggracy @iprobablyshipit91 @magicalxdaydream @whereismytelephone @theonly1outof-a-billion @leilanixx @namoreno @bi-lmg @dracoswhore007 @tomhollandloml @avengers-hamiltrash @sunshinepeterparkr @gh0stgurl @so-very-asleep @veryholland @white-wolf1940 @spideycheles @firwproof @fanficaddict13125 @pinklxmonade @thebestqueenoftheworld @nowayhomeparker @willowestelle @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches @bookfrog242 @hihiweezing @mathletemadison @chipot-lol @mackenziejanine @dhtomholland @peterstommy @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @aayaissaa @loudthoughts-softspoken @starknik22 @hallecarey1

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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skzsauce01 · 3 years ago

Text

Sorry Not Sorry

Synopsis: JYP’s most dysfunctional team is back and but not necessarily better. Sequel to Apologies in Advance.

Warning: alcohol, death, knives, murder, poisoning

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x secret agent!Minho; enemies-to-lovers

The case file became fuel for the fireplace the second you finished reading about the targets: an American couple who allegedly had ties to the Chicago mob. Johnny Suh and Wendy Son-Suh had been on JYP’s radar for years, so once it had been discovered that the couple would be vacationing in the Korean countryside for the winter holidays, you were immediately stationed in the nearby vicinity.

The house for your cover had already been set up with a fully stocked fridge and a selection of vintage wines that would make even the most pretentious connoisseur impressed. Humming appreciatively, you picked up a bottle of red from 1949. With a wine as rare and aged as this, the bitterness of cyanide could be masked as part of the drink.

It was decided then.

After you acquainted yourself with the targets, they would be invited over for a dinner with a lonely vacationer, whereupon they would be served one of the world’s most exquisite wines and die.

The main issue now was convincing them to spend an evening with a stranger.

While you pondered over the best possible strategy, checking around the kitchen and living room to see what weapons the company may have hidden, the sound of footsteps on the front porch made you stop. You stepped down from the chair you were standing on and waited for the sound of the doorbell. Instead, keys jingled.

The house belonged to the company. No one but you should have the keys. If there was another agent stopping by, the case file said nothing about it.

You dropped behind the couch and reached for the vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table. Whoever set up the place did a wonderful job. They knew that you would be knowledgeable enough to recognize that the flowers weren’t just a pretty decoration. Coming into contact with the leaves of the hogweed plant wouldn’t kill a person, but phototoxic dermatitis was still irritating enough that you could grab your syringes and finish the job.

The door swung open, revealing the smug face of Lee Minho, JYP’s best field agent and the person on the top of your hit list.

You threw the vase.

Unfortunately, Minho was the company’s best field agent for a reason. You swore under your breath and got up to greet him with the most neutral face you could muster. He glanced down at the broken glass on the floor before sweeping it aside with his foot.

“Even after all this time, still an amateur field agent,” he smirked. “How you doing, Y/N?”

“I’m a chemist,” you lamely retorted, cheeks growing warmer with each passing second. “Not my job.”

A harsh wind slammed the door closed, making you and the whole building jump. Minho, however, stood solidly in place. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the lab somewhere, inhaling poisonous fumes? What are you even doing here? ”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied. You crossed your arms, trying to hide yourself from his appraising gaze. The last time you saw him, he abandoned you on the sidewalk after a completed mission. “This place isn’t a safe house anymore, so go hide out somewhere else.”

He rolled his eyes and waved the manila folder in his hands. “I’m here for a mission. Nayeon doesn’t make mistakes, you know.”

“She’s my friend, I know,” you snapped, snatching the case file from him. “You probably read the address wrong because I’m here for a mission.”

Minho loudly sighed as you flipped through the pages, trying to find the listed address. His cover was eerily similar to yours, from being a lonely vacationer to having a wealthy family, and when you finally found the correct page, dread washed over you.

No.

This couldn’t be right.

As if on cue, your phone rang with a call from headquarters.

You put her on speaker, so Minho could hear it from the head case officer herself. “Nayeon, what’s going on?” you asked, hoping that this truly was a mistake.

However, when she cheerfully answered, “Oh, good,” you knew it wasn’t.

“Surprise! The boss thought the last mission you did together went well, so he wanted you two to be paired together again since this is an important one. I knew you two wouldn’t agree to it, so I had to do this instead. I’m really sorry, but I can’t ignore direct orders. I did try to dissuade him, but to quote his email, ‘They’re not that dysfunctional of a team.’” After a few seconds of no response, she continued. “So your new cover is a happily married couple who are also vacationing in the area. Take your time with completing the mission. You have about two weeks before they head back to America. And remember to be discreet. We can’t have the mob and the federal authorities after us.” Then she wished you luck and promised to buy you a week’s worth of coffee before hanging up.

Minho groaned. “Great. I’m stuck with the amateur again.”

You ignored his snide remark and walked back to the wine cabinet for the 1949 red. “We’re finishing this tonight.”

“Obviously. I’m not wasting two weeks with you. Did you bring whatever you used on the last target? We’ll do it the same way, quick and easy.”

You compared the two plans. As much as you hated Minho being right, tetrodotoxin would be quicker and easier than spiking a bottle of wine with cyanide and resealing it. On the last mission, Yoshifumi Shido and his wife Kaguya were dead within seconds when you injected them both with tetrodotoxin, one of the world’s deadliest poison and one that was naturally produced by pufferfish.

Pufferfish sashimi and red wine made for an awfully delicious meal.

While you were busy scouring the markets for the precise species of pufferfish you desired, Minho was tasked with getting an invitation to the targets’ vacation home. Your original plan of having the Suhs over was considered indiscreet. You reluctantly agreed that the authorities finding the corpses of two prominent people on JYP’s property was not ideal. Instead, you would be bringing over a dish.

Minho wasn’t thrilled that the entire scheme hinged on an invite, but Americans were always friendly and eager to open their doors. Besides, the file on Wendy Son-Suh stated that she had a “sophisticated palate” and that she “only ate the finest foods.” If the promise of perfectly prepared torafugu sashimi and a 1949 Domaine Leroy didn’t entice her, then nothing else would.

Fortunately, a fish market nearly an hour away had live tiger pufferfish, and you were able to buy two. You carried the heavy plastic crate into the kitchen yourself even though Minho was already back from his assignment and tousling his hair with all of the self-satisfaction of a cat. However, you noted that the entry way was no longer littered with glass and hogweed.

“Dinner’s at 7,” he announced. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks so much for your help,” you said as you tapped the side of the crate. The fishes still swam in tiny circles inside, unaware of their fate. You nodded towards the exit. “There’s a mirror missing its egotist.”

“Look who’s got a personal vendetta now. It’s been months since that last mission. Besides, someone came by and picked you up eventually.”

He neglected to clarify how long ‘eventually’ actually was. Since waltzing back into the scene of the crime was not an option, you had to pretend to admire the mansion’s gardens for two hours, in the cold, in those wretchedly high heels wardrobe put you in. The three glasses of champagne you had sipped on, did nothing to help.

The worst part of it all was that you didn’t even get the chance to kill Minho once you got back to headquarters. According to Nayeon, the coward had already picked up a new mission in Singapore.

“Do you think I enjoy working with you?” you spat out, pulling out the nearest drawer with so much force, the utensils inside rattled. There had to be a fuguhiki knife somewhere. “All you do is insult me and talk trash about my field work skills when I know for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to tell poison from antidote even if the vials were labeled. So, Minho, you should really watch your mouth, especially since I’m in charge of dinner tonight.”

He contemplated over your threat, warily eying the wickedly sharp blade you used to cleanly slice off the mouth of the first fish. “Don’t you need a license to prepare pufferfish?”

“You do.” You elected not to mention that you actually have one. It didn’t matter anyway, not when you had to do a poor job and were also planning to inject more tetrodotoxin into the sashimi slices for a quicker kill. “We have to eat it, so they don’t get suspicious. There’s no way around it.”

When he swore, you smiled and made sure that the most dangerous part of the pufferfish, the liver, touched the muscly flesh. Minho set down his bourbon. “You have the antidote, right? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been unprepared for a mission.”

It was the worst time you heard him sound actually worried, and you relished in his fear. All that arrogance, gone. “Trust me, I’m never unprepared when it comes to poison.”

“I’m serious.”

“I am too. So, Lee Minho” — you pointed the knife at the living room on the other side of the archway — “if you want to survive, get out.”

He obeyed.

However, Minho went back to his typical ways only a half an hour after you threatened him. He sauntered back into the kitchen just as you finished loading up syringes. “I have to admit, you got me good. But I know you won’t kill me. If you kill JYP’s best field agent, you’ll be next.”

“I’m their best chemist,” you pointed out. “They can’t afford to lose both of their best assets.”

“Why don’t we find out then?”

With precision, you injected the poison into the slices. “You won’t be alive when it happens, but sure.”

There were two plates of gossamer-thin pufferfish sashimi but three varying levels of toxicity: one that was deadly, one that was less so, and one that was completely safe. Unfortunately for all the guests in attendance, only you would know which slices were which.

Minho, in his dark green sweater and with a bottle of red wine, looked perfectly festive when he knocked on the door of the targets’ vacation house. You had fantasized how you could weave hogweed leaves into the knit fabric, but he had either buried or burned the flowers. The trash can had yielded nothing but a plastic bag of glass shards.

“Could you stop looking so murderous?” he whispered. “You’re going to blow our cover.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” you replied back, but you still plastered on a smile so sappy, trees would have been jealous. Just he wait.

Soon, Johnny Suh answered the door and welcomed you both inside. Introductions were made, compliments exchanged. Lively music played from the TV along with a video of a roaring fire, giving the impression of a warm home. As you scanned the elegant living room for any weapons, the target laughed merrily at Minho’s cheesy Christmas holiday greeting and clapped him on the back like a stereotypical mobster. He spoke Korean apparently. His surname was Suh after all, but you hadn’t expected his accent to be this good.

After he readily took the wine, the target turned to receive you, his eyes first falling to the dish you brought.

“My wife’s been waiting to try this all day,” he sighed, taking the plates from you. “Wendy, darling!”

At the mention of his wife, Minho snaked his arm around your waist, likely because he realized that the two of you were not being the most picture-perfect couple. After your last cover with him, the feeling wasn’t foreign, but it was still uncomfortable. Your fingers twitched for the security of your syringes.

Minho leaned over to kiss your cheek. The grimace was easy to keep off your face since you had to hide it every time his name was even mentioned, but the gesture reminded you all too well of how your last mission ended. Your body evaded him on its own, but his tight grasp caught you. “Stop,” he hissed between a gentle smile.

For a second, you considered throwing away the plan and killing everyone in the room at once. It would be a bloody scene to clean up, but at least you wouldn’t have to endure any more time with Minho.

“You two look adorable!” cried Wendy Son-Suh. With outstretched arms, she emerged from the dining room and made a beeline for the pufferfish her husband held. “Matching sweaters! We should have done that.”

“It was her idea,” Minho replied, gazing at you with artfully disguised homicidal eyes. “I hope you guys like dinner tonight since that was her idea as well.”

You slapped him “playfully” on the chest. You doubt it hurt him, but catharsis felt good even if it didn’t work. “Speaking of dinner, why don’t we start? Sashimi is only good if it’s fresh.”

There was a chorus of “Of course!” as the targets unknowingly ushered their assassins into the dining room. Wendy Son-Suh hung your purse on the coat rack, and you tried not to appear too uneasy. You had full confidence that your meal was properly overdosed with tetrodotoxin, but a backup plan never hurt. You supposed the company set you up with Minho for a reason though.

He was the backup plan.

The table was already set for four, with a bowl of japchae as the centerpiece. At least there would be something edible tonight.

You took the seat next to Minho and made idle conversation with the targets to avoid speaking to him.

“How did you find pufferfish around here?” Wendy Son-Suh wanted to know, to which you lied about being flown in from your favorite fugu chef in Tokyo. When she asked about the 1949 Domaine Leroy, you lied once more about it being an early Christmas gift from your relatives. She accepted them both. The designer sweaters you and Minho wore must have helped.

Meanwhile, Johnny Suh uncorked the bottle of wine and poured it into glasses for everyone. A toast was made to new friendships, and you hid your impatient expression behind a long sip. No one dared to unwrap the plates; the targets were being polite and waiting for you, and Minho, despite his earlier confidence, seemed too occupied with nursing his drink. Coward.

As such, you did the honors. You had arranged the slices into a large flower, each petal being a thin slice of pufferfish. “If you don’t mind, I’ll serve you all. I have an eye for the best pieces,” you winked.

“She’s an art collector,” Minho added, knowing full well that you knew nothing about art. Johnny Suh, the case file clearly stated, was a major donor to the Art Institute of Chicago and owned a few rare paintings himself. “What’s the name of your favorite piece again? It’s by Picasso, one of his more obscure ones.”

As anticipated, Johnny Suh was eager to hear, and he handed you his dinner plate almost in exchange for this piece of information. “I’m an art lover myself. Which one is it?”

Wendy Son-Suh pushed her plate to you as well, so you busied yourself with choosing the most poisonous slices for them both while trying to figure out how to wriggle out of this conversation. “He’s so forgetful,” you finally decided. “Van Gogh’s Starry Sky is my favorite. I know it’s almost everyone’s favorite, but it’s such a lovely painting.” You pressed your lips together and started serving Minho before he could protest.

“Starry Night, you mean?” the target said.

It was difficult not to smash Minho’s plate over his head. “My husband’s rubbing off on me,” you laugh, hoping that they would buy it. “He calls it by the wrong name every time. Everyone, enjoy!”

Noting that you hadn’t gotten yourself any, Minho reminded, “Don’t forget yourself. This is a delicacy after all.”

“Of course.”

You had laid out the sashimi in a flower configuration not just for aesthetic purposes. The ones in the center had been injected with extra poison, while the outer ring was entirely safe for consumption. The middle ring was what Minho had been served.

After seeing that their guests had food in front of them, the targets ate first, both of them marveling at the tenderness of the fish. In a few minutes, they would be dead. Ingesting poison always took some time. You started on yours as well, relieved that the mission was as good as complete. However, you noticed that Minho was working his way through the japchae despite the delicacies in front of him.

“No need to deprive yourself,” you prodded him. “I know pufferfish is your favorite.”

The targets leapt onto your words, encouraging him to eat more and assuring him there was no need to be polite because “we’re all friends here!” Under the building pressure, Minho finished all of what you had given him.

“Delicious,” he said. He drained his wine as if you had mixed the antidote in the alcohol.

The conversation drifted to future vacation plans, but by the time Johnny Suh was describing the blue waters of the Caribbean, his wife was undergoing some strange symptoms. She sipped on her drink, gripped the edge of the table, and breathed shallowly.

“Call for help,” she managed to get out through her numb lips. Her glass slipped through her fingers. “The— this…”

Unfortunately, her husband was also developing the same symptoms. You ensured that his slices were particularly deadly because of his large build. It was a gesture of kindness, having the couple die together.

“Call for help!” Johnny Suh repeated at you and Minho. You began to clean up the evidence, disposing of yours and Minho’s dinnerware and wiping any surfaces you touched with your sleeve. “What are you do—?”

“Exactly. What are you doing?” you called to Minho, who was now storming to the coat rack. “We have a crime scene to cover up.”

“Where’s the antidote?” he shouted. “How are you even okay? My mouth is on fire.”

Unbothered, you stepped over to the targets slumped over in their chairs. Wendy Son-Suh was no longer alive, and her dear devoted husband cupped his hand over hers as he took one last breath. His lips parted. You didn’t know if it was a curse at you for killing him and his love or at himself for allowing you into his home.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

The mission was complete, and you had gotten your revenge on Minho.

While you staged the dinner scene to appear more natural, you observed him as he emptied the contents of your purse onto the floor, pawing through the mess he made. This was the least composed you had ever seen him. Honestly, it was disgraceful for JYP’s best field agent to be acting in such a way. Didn’t he trust his partner?

“Of course the chemist has poison resistance,” he muttered. He paused on a vial of batrachotoxin, an even deadlier one than tetrodotoxin, before throwing it to the side. “You have it on you, don’t you?”

You laughed, swinging the bag of evidence in your hands. “There’s no antidote for tetrodotoxin.”

“What?”

You shrugged. “I would say ‘I’m sorry,’ but I’m really not. I did consider killing you, but you were right. The company would probably come after me, and I do like my job.” You selected a vial of black powder and set it in front of him. “Your dosage is only enough to procure a tingling sensation, but here’s some activated charcoal if you’re worried. It should be over in a few minutes anyway.”

Minho sighed, and you couldn’t tell if it was relief or exasperation. “For all that you hate me for, at least I haven’t tried to kill you. And I thought I had no morals. Let’s go. I don’t want to waste any more of my life being around you.”

He got up to fix his disheveled appearance. While he was enamored by his reflection in the mirror above the coat rack, tousling and fluffing his hair one way and the other, you picked up a pre-loaded syringe and set it between your fingers. Before he could notice you, you stuck the needle into his exposed forearm and pushed down the plunger.

He yanked his arm back, but it was too late. “Tried to finish the job?” he taunted, but it lacked its usual venom.

“No, it’s just a sedative. It’ll knock you out for a few hours,” you said to his wilting form. Even then, he still had the energy to give you one last glare. “Don’t worry. I’ll call for someone to pick you up, just like you did for me. We’re a team after all.”

~ ad.gray

192 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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slut-4-rafe · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I had a fix idea. So a switch!reader and she is in a relationship with the marauders(without Peter) and the boys find out. And like Remus is trying to convince Sirius to try it since he is a switch too(James is a sub and Remus is a dom) and like maybe the reader is feeling bad about messing up the dynamics and tells Remus to forget about it but her feeling bad eventually causes Sirius to give in and then ✨smut✨ You can obviously ignore this. Just thought I would share my thought❤️❤️

"Absolutely not!"

Sub! James x Dom! Remus x Switch! Sirius x Switch! Fem! Reader.

Summary: You want to try and be a dom for once, though Sirius isn't willing to look at you as anything but a sub. Remus and James on the other hand, want you to take charge.

Warning: Smut!, degration kink, praise kink, fingering (male receiving), daddy kink, mommy kink, oral (male receiving), slapping, probably more but this is just filthy.

Note: I hope this was okay. I don't feel like this was exactly what you were asking for, but I needed to add some drama lol.

Word count: 2,295

You had been feeling off about sex recently. It wasn't the fact that Remus was a dom. Or that James was a sub. Or that Sirius was both. What it was, was that you were a sub, or so they thought.

Yes, you loved being their 'good girl' and making them feel good, but sometimes you wished you could take the role of being in charge. Being the one to praise them for being good. Though you thought none of your boyfriends noticed your odd behaviors during your time in the bedroom, you were very wrong.

You were sat on one of the scarlet couches in the Gryffindor common room, watching as the orange flames danced in the pit. Your peaceful headspace was soon to be interrupted.

"Everyone out!" a voice yelled, startling you.

As people started to stand to leave the common room, a certain red head, also known as Lily Evans, took a stand. "No Potter. This is your common room. You can't just order people around!"

"Actually, Evans, I can. I'm head boy." the bespectacled boy said. Before Lily could argue anymore, you watched as Remus gave her a small pleading smile. Her gaze flickered to you and soon she softened.

"Alright then." she said before walking out of the portrait hole.

You knew what this was about. You knew why they wanted to talk privately, especially somewhere that wasn't the boys' bedroom.

You'd been avoiding them.

Sex was a common thing in your relationship, not that you were complaining at all. But to avoid the sex and the uncomfortable sub position you were constantly put in, you avoided them all together.

You kept your gaze on the flames before you, barely noticing each of the boys had taken seats on the couch beside you. Though you felt their stares lingering on your curled up frame, you ignored them the best you could.

"Pup." Remus said softly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Us." Sirius corrected.

You heard Remus let out a sight before correcting himself. "Can you tell us, what's going on?"

You didn't speak.

Your heart was beating rapidly and you got the sudden urge to vomit. And when the blush took over your cheeks, you hid your head in your hands.

You were embarrassed.

Embarrassed to explain that you wanted to not only be a sub, but also be a dom. And it wasn't James or Remus you had to worry about, it was Sirius. The raven haired boy liked how things were in the bed, he didn't want a change, and of course you knew that.

"Hey. We asked you a question." Sirius said.

"You not....breaking up with us, are you?" you heard James whisper. Hearing is sad voice broke your heart, and in an instant you revealed your blushed cheeks to the boys and raced to say your next words.

"No!"

James' frown turned into a lopsided grin at your answer. And suddenly you heard a set of chuckles. Turning your gaze to your other two boyfriends, you found both of them smirking.

"What?"

"Your embarrassed." Sirius said.

"Am not!"

"We like seeing you all flustered puppy." Remus smiled.

"Wanna take this to the room?" Sirius' smirk widened, and instantly your shoulders fell.

"No she doesn't." Remus said. "Pup? What happened? Are you feeling okay? Is something bothering you?"

You just gave your head a simple shake from side to side.

"I think I have a guess." you heard the raven haired boy say, and without even looking at him, you knew he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face. "I think our puppy broke a rule."

At those words your head snapped up. "No I didn't!"

"See. From the way your acting I'd say you did." he went on.

"No!"

"Are you back talking?" he smirked as your shoulders dropped yet again. "See. You just broke a rule. Back talking to your daddies."

And here you were, yet again, being put back in the sub position. You ignored the arousal pooling in your panties, as you rolled your eyes with a shake of your head and turned your stony gaze back to the fire. Yes. You were horny. You had been avoiding sex for about two weeks and still, the sub side of you wanted to follow their rules so you stuck to them. One of them just happened to be 'no getting yourself off,' so you didn't.

"I think you need to be punished pup." Sirius said in a sing song voice.

Remus noticed you seemed off. He sent Sirius a stern look, making the boy sink down into the couch. The sandy haired boy stood up and made his way to where he was kneeling in front of you.

"Poppet?" you turned you eyes to meet his brown ones. "What's the matter?"

Your mind swarm with thought and ways to put together your explanation. "I just..." you trailed off, trying to find the perfect words.

"You just what pup?"

"I-" you took a deep breathe and squeezed your eyes shut and allowed the words to come out in a quick, jumbled mess. "I just don't like being a sub all the time! I want to take charge once in a while. I'm a switch! Just like Siri and I-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Remus cut you off. "Say it again. Slower this time."

You huffed and opened your eyes to meet his yet again. "I don't want to be a sub all the time. Sometimes I want to take charge like you and Siri do. I like being a sub sometimes, but not always. I love being your good girl, but sometimes I just want you to be my good boys."

A silence took over the four of you. The blush that was once on your face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Alright-"

"Absolutely not!" Sirius cut Remus' words off. "No way!"

"Daddy-" Sirius cut off James this time.

"No! I don't care what you two say, I'm saying no!"

Your shoulders slumped. You were put into this uncomfortable position. You wished you could take everything back. You wished you'd never said anything in the first place. You were drowning in your own thought. Your brain muffling the sound of the arguing boys next to you.

"We can't just do what we want Sirius!"

"There can't be three doms and one sub! I mean, James is already sensitive enough. Imagine of we have three people going at him!"

"Hey!" James whined.

"Oh shush. You know it's true."

"Stop. Both of you." Remus said sternly. "Sirius, if there can't be three doms, then you be a sub."

"No fucking way!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I'm a dom!"

"Actually," James said. "Your both Siri. Why can't she be both? That way there would be..."

"Technically, three subs and three doms." Remus concluded.

"No. She's a sub. I don't care what she wants. She will obey you and I. We are her daddies. What does she want? To be called mommy?" he laughs. "That sound fucking stupid."

"Sirius! Stop being a brat-"

"It's fine." you interrupted them. "I shouldn't have tried to change it. Just...pretend I didn't say anything."

You got up and made your way up to the boys' dorm, to which you shared, having not been to your dorm since fifth year. You plopped yourself on the fifth bed, also known as the extra bed, in the room. You grumbled into your pillow, completely oblivious to the arguing going on down below.

"Look what you did Sirius!" James exclaimed. The boys head snapped to James a scowl etched on his lips.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes. You. Did." Remus seethed. The lycanthrope stepped towards the black haired boy, making him gulp nervously. Remus planted a slap to the boys' cheek. "What did I say about being a brat? Huh?"

"It makes me a bad boy." he said quietly.

"Yes it does. Why can't you just be a good boy like James?"

"I am a good boy!" Sirius whined, he sub side finally showing.

"No. Your not. You hurt puppies feelings."

Realization dawned on the boy and he immediately ran up to the dorm, followed by James and Remus.

"I'm sorry!" Sirius cried once he barged into the room. "I was a bad boy. Hurt mommy's feelings."

You froze and turned to the boys, finding James' hazel eyes blown wide, Sirius practically crying, and Remus standing against the door, a smirk wide on his face.

"What? I-I thought..."

"I'm so sorry mommy. Wanna be a good boy. Wanna make mommy happy."

"I..."

"I think little Sirius needs to be punished. What do you think James?" Remus asked.

"Yes daddy. I think mommy needs to punish Siri." he answered.

"W-what? I-..."

"What do I do to you or James when your bad?" Remus asked as he takes long strides to sit next to you on the bed. "Sirius, come here." The boy sheepishly makes his way over to the two of you until he's standing directly in front of you. "Talk to him. Tell him he's bad. Tell him why he's bad." Remus whispered in your ear. "Take charge doll."

This is what you were waiting for. To take charge.

"You were being mean Si." you said. "Hurt my-"

"Who are you?" Remus asked. "Have to address who you are."

"Hurt mommy's feelings."

"I know! I'm so sorry mommy!" he cried.

You contemplated what to do next. "Punish him." Remus whispered.

You stood up so you were face to face with the boy in front of you. You teasingly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the item off his shoulders before unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers and boxers. You looked over the boy, watching as his hard on sat up straight, leaking precum. "Lay down."

"Yes mommy." he crawled up into the bed. Laying so he was on his stomach, his hands were intertwined on his back and he got a perfect view of the bed right in front of him. You seated yourself so you were sitting at his side. Before touching him though, you addressed the other two boys.

"Hey Jamesie?"

The boy perked up at the call of his name a lopsided smile taking over his features. "Yes mommy?"

"Want to help daddy out? Want to suck his cock while I punish Siri?"

James nodded his head rapidly before hurriedly making his way over to the bed that just so happened to be right in front of Sirius. "Yes mommy. Want to be a good boy."

"Good job bubba."

Remus was quick to discard himself, and James, of their clothes. "Good boy." he cooed as James started working on his cock.

"Alright. What should I do, huh?" you asked the boy.

"Punish me mommy. Wanna be your good boy." he whimpered. You thought for a moment. Thinking of all the punishments you received. You smirked when you got an idea.

"Ass up." you instructed, watching how he instantly rested himself on his hands and knees. You took one hand down to his cock. Hearing him moan just at the touch made your legs squeeze together. "Don't take your eyes off them. And you better not cum. Got it?"

"Yes mommy."

"Good." you smirked.

Your hand slowly went up and down on his cock, feeling all the veins and how it twitched when she squeezed. She took her pointer finger and placed it in her mouth, wetting it. Once it was slick, she took it down so she was tracing his hole, earning moans from him. You pussy clenched around nothing and the arousal sitting in your underwear grew uncomfortable as you listened to James' gags and Sirius and Remus' moans.

You slowly aloud your finger to push in, going slow, because while this was punishment, you didn't want to injure or hurt him in any way. You listened to him moan loudly and his back arch.

"Are you okay?" you whispered.

"Yes! Mommy!" he moaned.

You sped up your finger slightly and fisted his cock. As you kept your movements the same, you turned to James and Remus. James had his nose buried in Remus' happy trail.

"Fuuuuck. Such a good boy." you heard Remus moan before pulling the boys head off so he could breathe. After a moment, Remus forced James mouth back onto his cock and bobbed his head up and down. You, in the mean time, took in the sight of the boy laying in front of you. Eyes glued to your other two boyfriends. Cock twitching as he did his best not to cum. And your finger pumping in and out of his hole. "M'gonna cum James. And you better swallow." you heard Remus instruct, earning a moan from James. And in seconds, Remus was cumming down the boys throat and the room was full of loud moans.

"Mommy! I can't! M'gonna cum." Sirius screamed.

"You better not. You wanna be my good boy right?"

"Yes!"

"Then don't cum. Just ten more seconds."

And when you felt his cock twitch violently in your hand, you drew your hand back and slowly took your finger out. He collapsed down onto the mattress.

"Am I good now mommy?" he asked.

You crawled off the bed and went so you were kneeling in front of his face. "So good baby. Watched them the whole time, and didn't even cum!"

"Now we have to make mommy cum!" James said excitedly.

"Right Jamesie." Remus smiled.

"Want to fuck mommy Jamesie boy?" you asked, getting up and going over to the boy on the bed.

"Yes mommy! Wanna make mommy cum. Wanna be her good boy." he went on.

"Okay James. Remus, help out Sirius over there. He's a good boy." you said.

Taglist: @blowing-mikey @lilicazure @trouble-in-space @herbatkazmiloscia @zzzfour @speakyourselfloveyourself @vierablack @officepass1320 @riddikulusweasleys @mysticlights-blog @mtle @emmaev @whitecastles @teenwolfbitches2 @lliasky @lookscutebutwillfight @pretty-pop-princess-hs @imsiriuslyval

#marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders smut

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

Text

Do Your Job.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N doesn't know how to say no. And Chris doesn't like that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Angry!Chris in this fic, kind of Naive!Reader... Enjoy

---

Chris watched with a clenched jaw as the woman winced upon hearing her boss. He didn't like her boss, at all. "Y/N! Why haven't you made my coffee yet?" he screamed at her, despite standing only a few feet away from her. "I-I was… I was helping Peter…" she tried saying and Chris' hands balled into fists when the man took a few steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

"Does he pay you? Huh? Are you his assistant? Now get lost and get me some coffee, fast! No excuses!" Teary-eyed after being screamed at, Y/N whirled around and walked out of the room. Chris wanted nothing more than to just grab that asshole's neck and squeeze until the life poured out of him. "Hey, everything okay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to his co-star, Michelle Dockery.

"I, uh, yeah… yeah, I'm fine, why?" Michelle didn't miss his grumpiness. "Come on, you were sitting there like you were imagining someone's murder," she snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him. "His," Chris huffed, nodding his head towards Y/N's boss who was speaking to one of the extras on set. "What did he do?" Michelle frowned and turned to look as well.

"That man does not know how to treat his assistant."

It was the last week of filming Defending Jacob. Y/N had caught Chris' eye on his first day at work; she had him wrapped around her finger in the first week. She was super beautiful, very polite, kind and helpful. She cracked funny jokes and whenever she entered a room, it seemed to get a little brighter and livelier. Chris wanted to ask her out, but chickened out whenever he tried to approach her.

They hadn't talked, ever. Sure, sometimes he'd catch her looking in his direction during breaks and in-between shoots, but he never thought anything of it. He was Chris Evans, people were gonna stare. But, in the first month of filming, Chris realized that the woman had a bad habit— she didn't know how to say no. Ever. She never, ever said no to anyone. And that annoyed him.

Y/N, can you come here for a bit?

She would get up without question, and follow the voice. He once saw her sitting down for a quick lunch and she had only had one bite before someone called for her. And he had watched as she kept her lunch away and walked towards the person. That had made him unbelievably angry, because even after her work, she didn't eat. She gave up on lunch. He had come very close to talking to her that day.

His pent up frustration increased day-by-day, as more and more people started using Y/N's overly helpful nature to their advantage. He noticed how she ran around from place to place all day, how she'd practically collapse on a seat the moment she got a break and would softly groan when she heard her name not even 15 seconds later. And the worst part? None of the people she helped were polite.

Once, he saw Y/N helping someone with her dress and the moment the job was done, the other woman had walked away without a word, talking to some of her friends. He saw how Y/N had just stared at the woman, blinking, expecting a thank you but receiving nothing in return. He noticed the disappointed sigh she heaved after and left to do her other work. That incident had just made him want to hold her and never let go.

That brought them to today. Chris and Michelle dropped the topic and chatted about something else until he saw her from the corner of his eye. Then he turned to see her fully, watching as Y/N handed the cup of coffee to her boss. That man had the audacity to give her a glare before he walked away, sipping on the coffee. This time, even Michelle noticed, and her jaw dropped.

"What?! That bastard!" she exclaimed as a teardrop rolled down Y/N's cheek. Chris' heart broke at the sight, his eyes closing when someone behind him shouted her name. Her hand instantly flew up to wipe her tears and she smiled to herself before turning in his direction. And for a brief moment, their eyes met. She gave him a quick smile before jogging past him towards the person who asked for her.

He couldn't even smile back.

---

"Cut! Break time."

Chris eased out of his tense position and rolled his shoulders before walking away, trying to find a seat. His feet ached from standing. He soon found a seat and sat down, taking out his phone. He went over some texts, until he heard her name being called. Then his head snapped up, because the person who had called for her was her boss. He glanced around until he saw her a few feet away from him.

She had her headphones in and was holding her phone horizontally, which made him realize that she was either watching YouTube, a show or a movie. And she was on her break. "Yes?" Y/N replied, taking out her headphones. "Get me another cup of coffee," the boss mentioned offhandedly, "It's my break." Chris glared at that. Make it yourself, asshole.

"But sir, it's my break too…" Y/N insisted softly. And without knowing, Chris' feet carried him towards the two. "So? I pay you, Y/L/N, there's no need to be such a brat. I'll have you fired in no time, you— Mr Evans?" Everyone around them froze as Chris placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder, darkly glaring at her boss. "She told you she's on a break," he spoke coldly. "Mr Evans—"

And the knot inside him finally broke.

"She's on a fucking break! Let her get some rest! She has been running around all day, doing things for your lazy butts—" he addressed everyone loudly, "—and none of you even thank her! Do you know what an angel she is? She continues helping you even after you treat her like scum! It's just some fucking coffee, if you're on a break, make it yourself! For God's sake, leave the woman alone! All of you, if I ever, ever hear her name being called around here again, it's over. I'll make sure you're off the set before you can even say sorry. Now get lost!"

He didn't mean to be so loud, nor so angry. But it just happened, months of frustration, months of anger released all at once. Y/N's boss stared at Chris for a few seconds, blinking, before muttering a quiet sorry and leaving. Everyone silently got back to work as Chris took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That's when he felt a small hand covering his.

He looked down and saw Y/N smiling at him, tears wantonly running down her cheeks. "Thank you so much," she whispered and his heart raced. "Absolutely no problem, darling. They were the assholes, using you to their advantage like that, so fucking disrespectfully… You have got to learn how to say no," he chuckled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "I do, don't I?" she hummed, her lips twitching in shame.

"We'll work on it, I promise." He gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Y/N gulped, trying her best to hide the effect his touch had on her. She had a crush on him, but like, who didn't? "How? It's the last week of filming," she pointed out with a small, sarcastic laugh. "It doesn't have to be the last week of us talking. How about we have dinner tonight, 8?"

Was he actually asking her out?!

"Yeah, yeah 8 sounds good," she replied near instantly and he gave her an amused smile. "Great. I'll meet you later, okay?" As he started walking away, she called out, "Mr Evans! My number!" And he walked back to her. They exchanged numbers, sent each other "hi" to make sure they had the correct number and Chris walked away again, ready to film the last scene of the day.

He was in an unusually good mood, having finally asked her out. She said yes.

He was also pleased at the end of the day, not having heard Y/N's name being called out even once after his outburst. Sure, after her break, some people had requested her assistance but they talked politely to her, saying thank you when she was done and smiling. Chris approved of that, after all, it was her job.

And, in the blink of an eye, it was 7:30 pm.

Chris was at home, fixing his hair. They had agreed to meet at his place, not wanting the media to find out. There, he had already ordered some pizzas and had beer ready, a movie paused on the TV. Chris finished messing with his hair and went downstairs, quickly patting Dodger's head. He sat on the couch and waited, busy scrolling through Twitter until he heard the doorbell ring.

When he opened the door, he saw Y/N. And his breath caught in his throat; she looked absolutely stunning dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a cute little smile plastered on her face. "May I come in?" she laughed a bit when he just stood there, staring at her in awe.

It turned out to be a really good date, the perfect start to a perfect relationship.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x characters #steve rogers x reader #captain america #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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blackswallowtailbutterfly · 2 years ago

Text

Still thinking about how a customer who’s never seen me or heard my voice who insisted I was male to the point of “correcting” my co-worker. lmfao

I sign my emails with the gender-neutral shortened form of my name. It’s what I go by, it’s what everyone’s called me since I was 11 years old. But even though my name is a fairly common name for women and that particular shortened form is commonly used for women, since it’s also the common shortened form of the male version of my name, when people hear the shortened form they just assume it’s male.

I don’t talk to customers on the phone. I work in the back and talking to them is a waste of my time and likely theirs as well. I email. And when I do the only personalizations relate to whatever issue is going on with their order and that I address the customer by name. I don’t use exclamation points. I don’t well-wish. I tell them what the issue is and how to fix it, and I tell them we’ve begun working on their order if they did fix it. I don’t have to exhaust my mental energy in trying to sound happy to talk to them or make their day brighter or whatever the fuck. Here’s your issue, approve it (if applicable) or fix it.

Sometimes particularly difficult customers need their hand held and their butt wiped and so I lay out everything as if I’m speaking to a child and occasionally worry I’m coming off as rude and will be complained about. Certainly customers have complained about rudeness (occasionally justified, but often just being told no) from our mostly female customer service people. But it’s never happened with my emails. In fact there’s often an enthusiastic “thanks!” in response. And it’s because they think I’m a man, helpfully imparting my knowledge, rather than a woman failing to butt-lick appropriately.

Still, some people think they need to hear what I’ve written over the phone and will call in asking to speak to me. They are told I’m unavailable while the customer service person in question will read my email to them couched in customer service language (pretty much reading out my email exactly as is with some “yeah, so”s and “basically”s thrown in). Some will still insist they need to speak to “him”. As a running gag, my boss just doesn’t correct them or sometimes will play along, using my name, they, or he as pronouns. After some time, the he/they thing just stuck so that’s how I’m referred to over the phone. I’m this secret entity whose competence isn’t questioned because I’m assumed to be male.

But some customers come in to get their orders and one upon meeting our at-the-time warehouse person initially assumed he was me. And although this warehouse guy had been told about the joke, he pointed me out to this customer, thus revealing my secret. Which sucked because then he wanted to come and talk to me. See, because once they know I’m female then they want to get all personal, ask how I’m doing and shit, try to persuade me to do things with their order. Go away.

Another time, though, I was the only person at work thanks to a massive snow storm and a customer had come into our location to drop something off and met me in person. My boss had forgotten about it, so when the customer called later to inquire about his order, she he/himmed me and this particular customer went, “wait, isn’t [my name] a girl?” and a bit of awkwardness ensued. Which was funny.

Anyway, we got a new customer service person who was told about the running gag but couldn’t bring herself to play along. And so, when a new customer ordering from us for the first time insisted he needed to speak to “him”, customer service person simply said, “oh, she’s unavailable”, which caused this man to blue-screen, stumbling over his words, and finally getting his bearings to say, “I mean [my name], the man who emailed me”. Customer service person tried again: “She isn’t customer service, she only talks to customers over email because she works in the back”. Customer wasn’t having it: “No, I was speaking to a man named [my name] over email”. This went on and on each time he called until all of his issues were finally fixed or approved.

Customer service person was baffled, boss was laughing her ass off, and I’m just picturing what would have happened if this poor idiot had come to pick up his order instead of having it shipped to him. What would have happened if he’d put a face to the name? Would he have blue-screened in a way he couldn’t recover from? Or would he have insisted that I couldn’t be the [my name] he’d spoken to?

In a way, it kind of sucks. My name is gender-neutral. Why is male always the default? I’d like to be known as female and still be assumed to be competent at my job and not be expected to be all perky in my emails to complete strangers who can turn on you in an instant if they don’t like what they’re being told. But that’s not the reality we live in and when I used to talk to customers regularly, at previous jobs, who knew for a fact that I was female, well, one got so far as bullying his way into my apartment--as “thanks”, you know.

I’m good at my job wherever I’ve worked. I’ve always done my best to make sure the job is done and done correctly. And that does get recognized by customers, it’s just that if you’re female, they then want more from you. Women want to commiserate in the hopes that you’ll do them some special favour for their next order, men want that too and also to “know” you--that is, to get extremely personal. Complement your appearance, take you out, take you home. But this way, fairly anonymous and assumed male, I just get to be done when I’m done. Once your order is completed I don’t have to think about you again until your next order. I will not do special favours for you on your order that make my job harder, we are not friends, we will never meet up outside of work unless by accident and probably won’t recognize each other, you will never see where I live.

Being mistakenly identified as male by people making silly assumptions is a small price to pay.

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spell-cleaver · 3 years ago

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AU years after Return of the Jedi. Dark Vader lives but didn't often see his children, even if more Luke than Leia. Then Luke invites him to his marriage... with Mara Jade. Vader's POV if possible. guepard54

“Now, I know it doesn’t exactly look…” Luke trailed off.

Mara snorted. “Hospitable?”

“No—well, yes—but I meant…” He peered out the viewport again, trusting his hands to guide them in for a moment. “Jedi-like.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure the old Jedi Temple had lava pits underneath it. The Imperial Palace got smelly sometimes because of them.”

“Did it? If we—” He shook himself when she laughed out loud. “Don’t mess with me like that! I don’t know anything.”

“And don’t trust my word,” she teased. Then added, a little more soberly, “Because I don’t know anything either.”

“You must know who my father is though.”

“Of course I do. He might even know me.”

“Hopefully, if I’m gonna win this bet with Leia. But in a good way or a bad way?”

“In a way.”

“Very helpful.”

“I thrive on it.”

“I’m well-aware of that.”

When they landed, there was a figure already waiting for them on the landing pad. Luke threw Mara a smile, who looked… slightly fazed, perhaps, but otherwise unconcerned. He powered down all the other ship functions, grabbed his robe to sling over his shoulder, and stepped outside.

“Father!” he said. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since—”

Lava flared behind him, reflecting eerie and bright in the contours of Vader’s mask. It tilted down towards Luke as Vader crossed his arms over his chest.

“Who have you brought.” It was not a question. The Force felt strange, like both Mara and Vader were trying very hard not to look at each other.

“I told you I was bringing a friend.”

“You did not tell me that friend was Force-sensitive.”

“No, but most of my friends I make through the Academy nowadays, you understand—”

“Nor an Imperial.”

“Ex-Imperial,” Mara corrected, finally stepping out of the ship. Luke didn’t know what had taken her so long, but she seemed to be revelling in the gravitas and drama of her entrance. Her red hair was pinned up and around her head in her usual practical style, with a few strands hanging loose that Luke felt his gaze catching on. The orange light caught on them too, making them glow, and Luke didn’t realise he was staring again until Mara jolted him out of it. In the ribs. With her elbow.

“Ex?” Vader asked, his tone rising. He was looking at Luke. Luke didn’t know why until Mara slipped her hand into his and he leaned against her shoulder. “The last I heard of you, Mara Jade, you had orders to kill my son.”

“It’s a romantic start to things,” Mara said.

“So you doknow who she is,” Luke concluded. “Leia owes me five credits. She didn’t think you’d have paid attention to the Emperor’s Hands.”

Vader stiffened, glaring now. His worst suspicion had come true, it seemed. “I beg to differ,” he spat back at Mara, ignoring Luke.

Luke snorted. “And mistaking someone for an angel is any better?”

There was the infamous finger point, wagging right in his face. “I regret telling you that story. Or any stories. What is the meaning of,” he waved his hand at Mara like she was a strange art choice, “this?”

“Her,” Mara cut in.

“Her. She should be in a New Republic prison cell.”

“She was a monumental help in ending the war. Her defection was happily received, and past crimes cleared from the record.”

“And I,” Vader pointed at Mustafar, “am left under house arrest here?”

“It’s the only thing Leia would accept.”

Vader deflated. “Understandable.” Then he glared at Mara again before glancing back at Luke. “You have still not answered my question.”

“You weren’t very clear about it.”

“I am unsure if you are being argumentative because of Jade’s poor influence or your sister’s.”

“Neither,” Luke said.

“Both,” Mara insisted. He laughed.

“Whyare you here?” Vader asked Mara abruptly. If nothing else, it seemed he knew that she would give him a straight answer, gloating all the while, instead of trying to address numerous other issues like Luke.

“I’m marrying your son,” she said. “Figured we’d invite the future father-in-law to the wedding in person. Luke wants you standing by him.”

Vader froze altogether at that.

“Indeed,” he got out, strangled.

A few more awkward beats.

“Come inside,” Vader demanded at last. It came out more as a squeak. “Now.”

Luke blinked, surprised that there wasn’t a more chaotic reaction—they’d come here now so they could get all of that out of the way before the wedding—but exchanged a glance with his fiancée and let her lead him in. He caught himself smiling at her, and caught his father watching him do so.

The moment the large metal door to the landing pad slammed shut behind them, echoing cacophonously in the obsidian entryway, Luke cut to the chase. “Alright, let’s talk through this. Which part are you most mad about?”

Vader stayed silent, gazing at him. The Force was too tumultuous for Luke to get a good read on him.

“Are you gonna tell me I shouldn’t trust her? Because you’re the prime example that people can change”—Mara squeezed his hand—“and I do have decent judgement. So that’s that argument out of the way.”

Vader didn’t react. His gaze dropped down to their entwined hands again, the narrow rings glimmering there, then back up.

“Next one. Are you gonna tell me I’m too young like you did when I last dated someone? Because, again, that’s pretty hypocritical of you, a bit overprotective, and I think we can rule out that objection pretty quickly.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use him as the benchmark for when to get married,” Mara muttered. She was tactful enough not to say because it didn’t last long, but Luke heard it and grimaced.

Vader must have heard it as well, but he did not react. He was, still, staring.

“And last one I prepared for—no attachments. Well, I’m in charge of the Jedi Order now, and my research indicates that the no attachments rule applies to possessive or toxic love. Mara and I have proven time and time again that we know how to put the greater good above our own lives or relationship, and I truly believe that while it is a personal thing, I can practice the spirit of this command without rejecting romantic connections.”

Luke stopped for breath, then stepped up to his father. Vader followed his motion, tilting his head down to look at him.

“So,” Luke said, smiling a little, “any other objections, or do we wanna skip straight to the future family bonding part of the visit? I can smell that Vaneé has cooked something nice.

Vader put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You wish for me to be at your wedding?”

Luke’s mouth fell open.

Oh.

“Of courseI do. You’re my father.”

“I did not raise you.”

“Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen aren’t here to see it, but I know they’re here in spirit.”

“They are not here precisely because of what I did.”

“That’s not the point, Father,” Luke said gently. He cupped the hand on his shoulder between his palms and brought it down against his heart. “You’re my dad. I love you. I want you there.”

“Your sister did not want me at her wedding.”

“Leia isn’t the one getting married, here. I am.” His faint smile wobbled, then fell. “Will you come? Leia is looking into the paperwork to allow you to go somewhere else for a short, set period of time. We’re thinking of having it on Naboo.”

“I assume your mother’s family will be there.”

“You don’t have to talk to them.”

“I should. But more than that, I should respect their wishes and not do so.” There were a few, quiet cycles of his respirator.

Luke ventured, “But you’ll come?”

Vader tightened his grip on Luke’s hands. “I would never miss it.” He faltered. “If you… If you truly want me there.”

“He wants you there,” Mara told him. “He’s been up for nights on end trying to figure out how to break this to you, convince you.”

Luke felt exposed.

“Luke…”

“I thought you’d react to this worse than you have!” he defended. It had been a very, very valid fear. He and Leia may have placed bets on whether Vader remembered Mara or not, but Han, Lando and Chewie had placed bets on whether or not things would explode. “I thought you’d be seeing red the moment I broke the news to you.”

“I am always seeing red,” Vader said dryly, gesturing to his eye plates. Luke conceded the point. “Everywhere, here.” He gestured out of the window, to the lava flows. Luke conceded that point, as well. “There is nothing, in fact, but anger and fury to be found here. You never bring that to my doorstep, Luke. You can always be counted upon to bring joy.”

He sized up Mara. “Albeit in strange packages.”

“I think that’s the highest compliment you’ve ever given me,” she said.

“Do not grow accustomed to it,” Vader shot back, but a more light-hearted note had already wormed its way into his voice. “Come through. Vaneé has indeed prepared a feast, as you,” he shot Luke a look, “predicted.”

Luke made to follow him through the corridor to the dining hall, but Mara’s touch on his wrist stopped him. “I won fifty credits, then,” she murmured.

“What?”

“You think the boys were the only ones betting on how this would go?”

Luke huffed out a breath. “You bet on how your future father-in-law would take the knowledge of our wedding? And”—he blinked—“you bet it would go well?”

“Not well,” Mara conceded. “But not terribly.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you.” She grinned. “I didn’t think your dad would ever be unhappy about the fact that you were happy.”

“Then you let me panic for days for no reason?”

“Don’t be so grouchy.” She took his arm and pulled him forwards. “Your father’s waiting for us.”

“Don’t try and become his favourite, now,” he joked, but followed.

She slipped an arm about his waist. “Against you?” She snorted. “Impossible.”

#'ask received 31st may 2020'#i'm just adding the dates in for my records by now #luke skywalker #mara jade #mara jade skywalker #random words on a page #anonymous #tumblr prompts #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars

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farfromharry · 4 years ago

Text

Who would’ve thought | Frat!Tom

Summary: Who would’ve thought that the frat boy with the concerning reputation would actually be a big softie with a thing for romance? All it took was the right girl.

Word count - 3,705

Warnings - drinking, mentions of throwing up, language

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Tom Holland, the ultimate frat boy of the campus.

You first heard about him through people in your classes, the classes you were meant to share with him if he were to ever show up. He was considered cocky, a little bit of a whore, and didn’t have a care for anyone who he wasn’t A, trying to sleep with or B, wasn’t a part of his frat.

You didn’t expect good things at all when meeting him for the first time, so that dreaded day when you got your new seating arrangements for the rest of the term and you just so happened to be sitting next to the frat boy himself, was unfortunately also the first day he showed up to your criminology class.

He showed up in a rather casual outfit, nothing too out of the ordinary. A dark blue hoodie with a matching cap sitting backwards on his head. When he turned his head to the side you could see the accent of small brunette curls sticking out of the back of his hat, accentuated by his sharp jawline.

He took one look at the seating chart and you saw, even from your spot near the back, the way his eyebrows drew together in confusion. He had no idea who you are.

You left him to work it out on his own, not wanting to be that girl who made a fool of herself in front of the infamous frat boy.

It didn’t take long until you felt his presence beside you, forcing yourself not to look. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him and missing the way you cursed yourself for giving in so easily.

“Are you Y/N?” You nodded your head and you could almost see the breath of relief he let out.

Tom took a seat next to you with a small smile. You assumed he was just trying to get on your good side to ask you for answers or borrow your notes, something he’d need for missing so much of the class work. “I’m Tom,” he said, deep voice unwillingly making your stomach fill with butterflies.

He held out his hand for you to shake, a crooked smile on his lips as he waited for you to respond. “Y/N.” The second your hand touched his, the boy was convinced he had to get to know you better, something about your shy persona intriguing him. “But, you already knew that,” you laughed nervously.

He thought your nerves were cute, the corners of his eyes creasing from how hard he was smiling. He slid into the seat next to you, the boy mentally debating how he was going to go about this. Tom wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t think you were gorgeous because he was definitely slightly taken aback by you when you first looked at him with those doe eyes, so he didn’t want to ruin things before they’d even started.

“So, you probably know I haven’t been to a single one of these classes,” he said. You laughed, nodding your head. He felt his own lips twitching into a smile when he heard the angelic sound. “Are they really as bad as everyone says?”

You hummed as you thought about it, taking a few seconds. In that time Tom was fully taking advantage, his eyes raking over your face admirably, taking a mental note of all your different features. You tried not to let your nerves get to you when you noticed. “They’re definitely as bad as people say.”

He groaned, catching the eyes of a few different people around you both that made you sink into your seat awkwardly. He laughed it off, finding it amusing how easy it was to get you all flustered, deciding he would be using that with his flirting tactics from then on.

“Let’s hope you make them better then,” he mumbled, biting his lip to contain the smirk threatening to overtake his face. You didn’t respond but he could see from his peripheral vision that you shifted nervously in your seat.

Tom wasn’t sure if he was also getting flustered while talking to you or if he was subconsciously thinking showing off his physique would somehow catch your interest like it had done countless times before with the other girls on campus. But either way, he pulled the cap off of his head, lazily running his fingers through his curls for a second.

You glanced over when you saw his hands go to the hem of his hoodie, watching with the tip of your pen between your teeth as he began to peel the material off of his body.

You almost choked when you saw the grey, cotton shirt slip up and expose the bottom of his abdomen, hard muscles and a sliver of his underwear peeking through.

He placed the hoodie on the back off his chair once it was completely off, exposing the tight, plain grey shirt that clung to every ridge and muscle.

He heard your shaky inhale and couldn’t stop the smirk that crept onto his face, shooting you a single glance before he turned his head back to the front of the class.

You’d expected Tom to be a lot more distracting, seeing as he was quick to start up conversation with you earlier, but to your surprise he actually seemed to be paying attention.

This class flew by much quicker than the all the other ones, and you weren’t sure whether that was due to your thoughts being cloudy by the pretty boy next to you.

“Do you maybe want to come to a party next week?” he asked. You were taken off guard, your eyebrows raising as you packed away your stuff.

“I, um-“ He could see your internal conflict, interrupting before you had the chance to reject his offer.

“You don’t have to, of course, but if you do-“ He tore the corner off of a sheet of paper in his notebook, scribbling down the address of the frat house that you were sure you’d be able to find without his help. “Here’s the address, and there’s my number.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he handed you the scrap of paper, your fingertips brushing and creating another wave of butterflies for you.

“Uh, thank you. I’ll be sure to consider it.” You didn’t want to give him a final answer right now because you weren’t much of a party girl. You’d much rather stay in but as soon as your roommate got word she’d definitely be making it her mission to get you to that party.

“I look forward to maybe seeing you there.” He gave you a fake salute and turned to walk away, one hand holding the strap of his bag and the other carrying his discarded hoodie. When he reached the door of the classroom he gave you one last look over his shoulder, throwing you a wink before he was gone.

»»——⍟——««

The week had passed and you still hadn’t used Tom’s number at all, and he didn’t have yours to text you first, so he just has to wait. The man had no idea if you really were coming or not. It was unusual for him but he was nervous and his friends were starting to notice. Harrison had seen how Tom took a little extra time to get ready for tonight, pointing it out to Tom’s younger brother who brushed it off as him trying to pull another girl, and he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Who are you waiting for, mate?” the blonde asked, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. Tom sighed, checking the watch on his wrist one more time, assuming that you weren’t showing up.

“A girl from my criminology class, but doesn’t look like she’s gonna show.” The younger of the two just shrugged his shoulder, encouraging his friend to finish his drink and go get another one with him. “Just enjoy your night mate, with or without her,” he said, lightly punching his shoulder in a friendly way before disappearing into the crowd. Tom nodded even as he walked away, quietly mumbling to himself, with or without her.

That mindset was gone as soon as he saw you. His entire face practically lit up as he spotted you coming through the front door of the house, politely pushing your way through a group of people who were blocking the entrance.

He was by your side in seconds, people moving out of his way as if he was a God, and you had to admit you were a little grateful because it definitely made it easier to move.

“You came,” he cheered, boldly linking his fingers with yours and dragging you straight to the kitchen. He could tell just from the way your hand subconsciously tightened around his every time someone so much as cast their eyes your way that you were nervous, if you were being honest you didn’t really want to be here.

“Yeah, um, my roommate,” you poorly explained, pursing your lips together. He nodded in understanding, giving you a quick run down on the drinks the frat house had on offer.

He was only slightly surprised when you turned them all down, shyly asking if you could have water instead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, your eyes roaming around the kitchen. This was one of the more less crowded areas of the house, and even then you could barely breathe from the wave of people filtering in and out every few minutes to get more drinks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t enjoying the party. Even with his efforts of getting you to loosen up, Tom could still see the traces of a frown on your lips and your stiff posture. He took a step closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your lower back, your eyes flickering to him to see what he was up to. He leaned down to your ear so you could hear him better, more or less having to shout for you to hear his words over the booming music.

“D’you want to get out of here?” he asked, gulping down the remainder of his beverage from the solo cup. Your eyes widened at the suggestive comment and you would’ve been disgusted if he hadn’t jumped in so quickly after the words left his mouth to correct his meaning. “Not like that, no, I meant um-“

This was the first time you’d seen him nervous, and you found it quite adorable the way his cheeks turned a light shade of pink; although that could’ve easily just been from the alcohol or the heat of the room.

“I meant, you don’t look like you’re having fun, and as my guest it’s my job to make sure you are.” His words didn’t sound any better in your head, but he clearly thought they did in his drunk one.

“What are you saying, Tom?”

“Do you want to go on a walk with me or something?” You smiled softly, thinking over your options quickly. Either stay in this dreadful party with the couples making out and drunk idiots running about the place, or go get some fresh air with a very cute and surprisingly polite frat boy.

It was safe to say your mind was quickly made up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He linked your fingers together so it’d be easier to lead you through the crowd, throwing out his cup on the way.

Stepping outside the front door of the house you were hit with a wave of very cooling fresh air. You felt your body heat immediately cool down, a nice and very different sensation from the heat inside the party.

You still didn’t seem to be away from drunken idiots, Tom letting out a groan when he noticed some kids throwing up on the grass outside the house. Your face screamed disgust but you couldn’t help but laugh at him anyway.

He led you away from the house, muttering something about how he was going to leave that to someone else to clean up.

You didn’t even realise that you were still holding hands until Tom subconsciously squeezed yours when he felt you shiver from the sudden breeze.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling your hand away and shooting him a tight lipped smile. You could see him frown slightly and with a small accepting nod he slipped his hand back in his pocket.

“So, why did you suddenly decide to show up to class?” you asked, a little out of the blue as you strolled side by side down the path in the empty park. Tom didn’t really have a good answer, it was either show up or completely fail the class and he wasn’t prepared to get yelled at by his mother for failing yet another class; but that didn’t sound like a cool thing to tell the girl he was trying to impress.

“Maybe I heard there was a really pretty girl in there who could use my attention,” he flirted, bumping his shoulder against yours. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath for him to stop being so cheesy.

You didn’t understand why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you. It’d only been a week since you’d met but even in such a short time Tom had found himself infatuated with you, but not in a creepy way.

“Why did you invite me, Tom?” The question had been lingering in the front of your mind for days, and unfortunately you just had to ask now.

You both came to a stop, turning to face each other as you peered at him curiously. You saw Tom’s cheeks flush, the close proximity of your faces allowing you to see every small detail of the way his blush overtook his cheeks and nose.

“Just full of questions aren’t you?” he nervously laughed. The question was rhetorical of course, buying him time to come up with an answer. He took a deep breath, pursing his lips together awkwardly. “I like you. I know we only met last week but I-“

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, needing time to comprehend what he’d just said to you. “There’s something about you Y/N, and I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your silence didn’t seem like good news to Tom. He let himself get ahead of the situation completely, his heart sank into his stomach and he was bracing himself for your rejection.

“Tom, is this some kind of joke?” you asked, convinced this couldn’t have been real. The big frat boy with the bad reputation wanting to go out with you?

“No, no of course not. Y/N, just give me a chance,” he begged, taking your hands in his gently. His thumbs stroked circles over the skin on the back of each of your hands, his eyes watching you full of hope.

“Come on, one date. If you hate it you don’t even have to talk to me ever again,” he offered. You cocked your head, your eyebrows drawing together in a way Tom thought was cute.

“Really?”

He tried to backtrack. “Well, no. That’d suck for me if you did. But you get the point.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at the pair of soft brown eyes that were waiting for hopefully a good answer.

“Fine. One date can’t hurt.” He cheered silently, leaning down to place a cheeky kiss on your cheek that left you stuttering nervously.

“You won’t regret it.”

»»——⍟——««

It was many weeks before you actually gave into Tom for a second date. At first it was just dates, which from what you’d heard were out of the ordinary for him in general, but then somehow it progressed into a beautifully blossoming relationship, if you do say so yourself.

You were scared at first that he was going to fall back into that fuckboy role, or like in the movies he was going to be embarrassed about being seen with you, but it was the complete opposite.

He couldn’t tell enough people that you were dating. When dragging you along to parties it was always, have you met my girlfriend Y/N?, or an arm thrown around your shoulder with lots of kisses placed all over your face and neck to let people know you were taken.

Cute little picnic dates became surprisingly very common when you and Tom finally made things official. All your friends told you that they’d never known Tom to be this involved with a girl, because he didn’t normally waste his time taking his pursuits on dates.

The first time showed up at your door with a picnic basket and flowers in hand you were honestly shocked. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere because of the nice weather but it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, watching you set the flowers down on your counter. You turned around with a playful eye roll at the way he was rushing you.

“Go where?” you giggled, slipping your hand in his outstretched one. He placed his lips on yours softly, drawing an unintentional grin from you. “‘m taking you on a picnic, want to enjoy the weather with my girl.”

From that day on it was almost a weekly thing, but it was also the thing that let you know Tom was serious about your relationship and wasn’t just planning on breaking your heart.

You and Tom had been in a comfortable silence for a while now. He believed you were reading the book you brought with you, so he didn’t want to interrupt. He chose instead to just look around at your surroundings, watching other people laugh and have fun in the field that sat in front of the university.

Little did he know you’d actually been admiring him for the last ten or so minutes. You stared at the way his jaw clenched every few seconds, making his jawline look even more prominent than it was. The way his curls so effortlessly fell into a perfect position on his head, and the way his biceps would bulge in the tight black shirt every time he would fix his hair after a slight gust of wind blew it into his face.

You snapped out of your daze when you noticed he was talking to someone, wondering if it was you. That was when you noticed a group of lads that were in the same frat as Tom, teasing him about how whipped he was for you.

“Fuck off,” Tom groaned, flipping them all off as they chuckled. They eventually gave up, running away snickering at the rise they’d managed to get from their clearly irritated friend.

“‘M sorry about them,” he said, gently running the back of his hand over your cheek. You nuzzled closer to it for a moment, providing him with a split second of affection before you were back to your book.

All the teasing left you thinking, Tom noticing the way you were chewing on your bottom lip, something he’d noticed you did often when you were deep in your head.

“‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your face. You sighed softly, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

“Who would’ve thought?” you mumbled, barely catching his ears from how quiet it was. He hummed in confusion, having no idea what you were referring to until you’d decide to finish your sentence.

You rolled over onto your stomach, inevitably rolling off of Tom’s lap. You pushed yourself up to your knees, hands on either side of Tom’s legs as you got close to his face with your own.

His hand shifted from his lap to cup your cheek, a small grin forming on his face as the man admired how beautiful you were up close. He was almost too distracted by your features, and those sparkling eyes looking at him to even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth, but luckily he caught them anyway.

“Who would’ve thought that the king of the frat, the biggest playboy on campus, whore if you will,” you exaggerated, lips curling into a grin. “Was secretly a big softie.”

His heart fluttered slightly but he scoffed at your beginning words, feigning offence at the names you’d labelled him with. “I can be romantic,” he whined, trying his best to defend himself.

You hummed, pretending to think about it to tease him even further. He huffed, happily forgetting his pouty mood with a few soft, short kisses from you.

“I’m kidding,” you whispered, slotting your lips together again in a sweet kiss. “Better be,” he grumbled, rubbing his thumb across your temple lovingly.

“Even if you are a whore, you’re still my favourite whore,” you teased, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your giggle. You saw him roll his eyes, his hand playfully pushing your head away from him until you were once again laying back in his lap.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, nudging you with the knee that you were laying on. You chuckled quietly, nuzzling your head against his stomach, your arms snaking around his waist.

“I love you though,” you whispered, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted off of you. That was the first time either of you had said those words. You hadn’t been dating long, and part of you was still scared he wasn’t serious about this, but god did it feel good to say out loud.

Tom was shocked, staring down at you with his mouth agape. He felt butterflies exploding in his stomach and he realised he should probably say something before you start to overthink, something you were very good at.

“Yeah?” he asked, just making sure. You nodded your head, tightening your grip around your boyfriend’s torso, almost like you were afraid he’d run away.

“I-I love you too,” he announced, feeling your entire body relax against his. “Even if you do think I’m a whore.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

tom holland taglist → @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @call-me-baby-gir1 @icyhollands @sinisterspidey @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys-blog @itstaskeen @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @spideyssunshine @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @piscesparker @bvttercupbby @mymilliefrommarketing @spideyspeaches @kujokura @l0velyevans @jess-holland23 @felicityparkers @quxxnxfhxll @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @bora-world @annathesillyfriend @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @hollandswife @sunwardsss @dhtomholland @messedupmyfuckinglife @bi-lmg @londonspidey @multixfandomwriter @mrsholland96 @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @aayaissaa

#tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #frat!tom

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ytdn · 3 years ago

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Endeavor’s (potential) death and Bojack Horseman

SPOILERS FOR MY HERO ACADEMIA CHAPTER 350//

So seeing a lot of discussion about Endeavor and what he deserves - should he die, should he be in jail etc. And honestly I’m ruling out him going to jail since japanese cultural norms don’t seem to see familial abuse as a going-to-jail crime (still pretty nasty though) and none of his family have brought it up (I also think it wouldn’t be the right thing for his family anyway for reasons I’ll get to later).

So, death.

I think if he does die it won’t be from Touya killing him. Enji is too much of a focus character to be killed like that, and it would represent the “failure” of his character arc. He’s a man who wants to redeem himself from his failure as a father, and the biggest failure is his neglect of Touya leading him to plot to kill him. For both Touya and Enji’s character arcs to end in “success”, Touya can’t succeed in his villainous goals. Touya himself can’t die either (because he WANTS to die) so lets rule out any murder-suicides.

So, if Enji does die, it would be in saving his children. And I think the child he has to save primarily is Touya. He looked away from Touya 10 years ago, so he has to look at him now (even though the plot currently has him far away from Touya there’s enough highlighting of this fact to know it will be corrected at some point). I’ve seen some people suggesting (mostly on reddit) that he’ll die saving Shoto from Touya but that wouldn’t be a “success” - it’ll just be seen by Touya as him putting Shoto above him. So while he can save Shoto, he has to save Touya as well.

And this would be a “success” for his character arc and Touya’s character arc in many ways (and Shoto to a lesser extent but I feel like Shoto’s arc with Enji is different and mostly resolved at this point)! He would show in one great act that he can put his children’s lives above his (his original sin being putting his own ambitions over the welfare of his children) and it would match the foreshadowing of his dream where his family are eating happily around the table but he isn’t there with them,

BUT! I don’t think this would be the best resolution, and this is where Bojack Horseman comes in.

So for people who don’t know, Bojack Horseman is an adult cartoon about a depressed alcoholic horse (sounds weird but it’s actually really good)

SPOILERS FOR BOJACK HORSEMAN

So, both Bojack and his best friend Diane have abusive parents - for Bojack, his mother, for Diane, her father. And over the series both parents die. And there’s one episode, Free Churro, where Bojack attends his mothers funeral and gives a eulogy (its a great episode and can be watched standalone).

And one of the great things about the episode is it addresses the difficulty in mourning an abusive parent. Bojack talks about Diane’s father, how she felt sad when he died even though “she never even liked the guy” because it meant the chance of him ever being a good father was gone forever. Bojack himself talks about how on her deathbed his mother looked at him and said “I see you” - and those words both made him very happy but also very angry. Because his mother finally acknowledged him, but at the same time she waited until the last moment to do it. He realised she could have done that the entire time, but didn’t, which meant she actively chose to be a bad mother his entire life until then.

And going back to MHA, I think this is where the issue with Enji dying as a “solution” comes. Because his whole character arc is him realising he could have been a good father the entire time, but put his ambition first every time. So him “Seeing” Touya and then promptly biting it- no, it doesn’t work, and leaves a hole in the Todoroki family. Because despite Enji thinking that the only way to atone is to seperate from his family, that isn’t the real solution. Obviously he needs to give his family freedom and space - Natsuo for example doesn’t want anything to do with his dad. But on the other hand as Rei said, “running away” was his sin. He needs to be their for his family, and ESPECIALLY Touya. He doesn’t get to run away this time, especially not by dying.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 350 #mha meta #bnha meta #my hero academia #enji todoroki #dabi #touya todoroki #shouto todoroki

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

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Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

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