#so please do chime in if you're so inclined

[chaotic-archaeologist]

so back in 2005-2007 I was an anthropology major, I was told that matriarchies never existed. at the time my professor said that it was kinda sexist that anthropology thought that way. so I wonder if anything has changed since then. I'm not talking about the weird mother goddess cult that hippy 2 wave feminist wanted but like, people who say they are like the muoso (I'm sorry if I spelt that wrong), and other groups. I've heard several native Americans from varrying nation that said their culture was matriarchal, and if modern anthropologist are taught that the experts on society are the people in that society, why do/did anthropologist decided a matriarchal society was impossible. I know this could take a long time to answer so if it's too long for you maybe just some helpful links to an article if you know of one.

So the answer—as always, with anthropology—is complicated.

Saying that XYZ never happened is difficult, given that all it takes is one positive instance to disprove the statement. Yes, there certainly have been (and still are) matriarchal societies. (Please also keep in mind that matriarchal societies aren't inherently better that patriarchal societies based on that one trait alone.)

If I had to guess, what you were told was the product of several theological whiplashes in anthropological theory. And you are indeed correct: some of it has to do with Second Wave Feminism. Archaeology and anthropology have been unfortunately late to the ballgame, and feminism is one of those topics.

Basically, for a long time anthropology was dominated by rich white dudes who believed that men were the center of all anthropological innovations ever (more or less, this is the simplified version). Then in the 80s/90s, Second Wave feminists managed to break into the discipline and the stance went from everything is patriarchal to everything is matriarchal.

"Whoa," said the male anthropologists who were feeling Threatened™ "we don't like that at all." Which results in a second over-correction back to the insistence that there was nothing matriarchal. If I had to guess, this is the general series of events that found its way into your classroom in the mid 00s.

If you fancy a deep dive into a good example of early feminist anthropology, check out The Gender of the Gift: Problems with Women and Problems with Society in Melanesia by Marilyn Strathern (first published in 1988). Or, if you're not inclined to read the whole thing, just read the very last five pages titled Comparison. Or you can read a review of the book from shortly after it first came out.

Other anthropologists are encouraged to chime in, and especially tell me if I've said something wrong.

-Reid

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1101: XIII V. One Winged Angel (Kingdom Hearts x FF7)

4:23 p.m. at The Lockhart's Bar.........

Sephiroth: (Takes a Sip of his Glass of Red Wine He Was Recently Given While Sitting Behind the Counter) Hm. I must say, this is admittedly decent. (Tales Another Sip of the Drink Before Looking Up at Isa) What's the name of this exactly? Scarlett Red?

Isa: It's actually Risata Moscato Red, one of the most well known wines ever made in Italy.

Barret: (Glaring at Sephiroth the Entire Time) And it'll cost you TWICE as much as the original price.

Lea: Twice as much- (Quickly Count Up the Price With his Fingers Before His Eyes Starta Widening Up) That'llcost him a fortune!

Barret: Exactly.

Sephiroth: (Raised an Eyebrow at His Not Sp Former Enemy) Really, Wallace. Do you always charge extra to every customer you meet?

Barret: (Glare Starts Piercing Harder) I only charge extra to murderous scumbags who has the audacity to waltz in to our establishment after all the convoluted bullcrap you put me and my crew through over the years!

Sephiroth: And I'd be more than glad to do it again if given the proper opportunity.

Barret grits his teeth in pure anger before Lea chimes in at the last second.

Lea: Easy there, big guy. I'm sure he doesn't REALLY mean that. (Let's Out an Awkward Laugh Before Slowly Turning his Head to Sephiroth With a Nervous Look onnhis Face) .....R-Right?

Sephiroth: (Simply Shrugs) Perhaps. But what I DO know is that you have no chance of beating me those time, especially now that you don't have Strife or Lockhart here to hold one of your non mechanical hands.

Barret: (Angrily Slams his Hands Down on the Counter Before Grabbing Sephiroth by the Collar) I don't need any of their help to send your sorry looking ass back to the depths of hell from what you've came!!!

Sephiroth: (Puts on a Small, Evil Smirk on his Face) You're more than welcome to prove it to me. Not like the end results us going to change in any capacity.

Barret: Gladly!

Barret winds his fist up to punch the one winged angel until-

?????/????: DADDY/PI!

The two dads stop what they were doing turns their heads to see Marlene and Pichu pouting at the both of them sitting at a table behind them along with Roxas and Xion.

Marlene: No. Fighting!

Pichu: Pichu!

Barret: (Stares at the Kids For a Brief Second Before Clearing his Throat and Finally Letting Out of Sephiroth's Collar) R-Right.

Sephiroth: (Brushes the Dust Off his Shirt Before Tidying it Up a Bit) Of course.

Barret: Sorry, baby girl....

Lea: (Chuckles Lightly) You two got told off by your own kids!~

Xion: Axel, stop making fun of Mr. Sephiroth and Uncle Barret before Roxas and I come over there!

Roxas: And we'll do it too! Don't test us!

Axel's chuckle deceased immediately as Barret let's out a smug sounding one of his own.

Sephiroth: (Smirks at the Redhead) You were saying?

Lea: ('Sighs in Defeat') I'll shut up now.....

Isa: ('Sigh') Can we all please go back at the topic at hand here? We're wasting more time than I hoped we wouldn't.

Sephiroth: I'm inclined to agree. (Raised an Eyebrow in Curiosity at Isa) So you wanted to know if I'm former with this 'Luxu' person?

Isa: (Simply Nodded) That's correct. Pitto mentioned he instantly recognized you right before he and the Foretellers retreated.

Meanwhile at an Unknown Cave Location........

Ira: And you have yet to tell us anything on the matter in question.

Aced: Among other things.......

Luxu: (Rolls His Eyes While Groaning) Again with this? I told you every important, non-vauge information you needed, what more do you people want for me!?

Invi: Your allegiance towards our cause and union perhaps?

Luxu: I saved you four from being forgotten about completely. That has to count for something at least.

Ira: And we appericate your efforts, truly. But there's still so much we need to know about.

Aced: (Rolls his Mask Covered Eyes) Which I doubt you'll ever tell us considering how you are willing to keep your history between you and this Sephiroth person from us for this long.

Luxu: (Glares at Aced) Hey, I was gonna tell you guys about him eventually! (Crosses his Arms Together While Turning Away) 'Just needed to make sure that the unexpected.....(Face Starts to Waver in Fear) painful....nightmarish memory of him doesn't get to me completely. Or ever......

Gula: The guy must've been a real pain in the neck if he's making you THIS scared of him.

Luxu: ('Sighs Heavily') Ohhh you have no idea.....But if you all MUST know thay badly, it all started back when I was stil in the Organization, our boss at the time, Xemnas, thought it would be a good idea to invite that one winged bastard into our headquarters and ask him to join our cause, knowing damn well that would've defeat the entire purpose of the name and brand! But rather than giving him a series of trials like any sane cult leader would, the boss man figured the better way for him test his worth is to fight-

...................................................................................

Xion: (Eyes Widened) Every organization member at once!? How come we didn't know about any of this?

Roxas: (Grabs his Chin While Thinking) Mm...Call it a hunch, but I think that all might have happened when you, me, and Axel went to that mission together. The one at the Neverland place or whatever.

Lea: (Suddenly Snaps his Fingers While Remembering the Memory) Oh yeah! I remember now! We had to spend like two or three days there just to try and capture our target, whoever that was.

Isa: And I was out inspecting every other worlds that was accounted for at the time.

Sephiroth: It seems Xemnas was too prideful enough to not to tell either of you about the incident. But yes, I was challenged to fight every present organization member at the present. (Causally Twirls his Wine Cup Around with his Hand) To them it was a fight for pride and honor of the name of their little cult. But for me.....(Forms a Small, Smug Smirk on his Face) It was mediocre warm up at best. (Takes Another Sip of his Drink)

.....................................................................................

Luxu: We threw everything we got in our arsenal at him and he managed dodge all of them without breaking a single sweat. Then, when the others tried to get the upper hand, he countered all of their weapons with that long ass sword of his and knocked all of them out with just one swing! ONE SWING! Then, when I tried to sneak attack him from behind, the guy STAB ME and slammed my ass towards the ground in front of him! (Shivers in Fear) It was a miracle I was able to survive after that.......

..............................................................................

Sephiroth: His tactics were too predictable for me to care. But that pitiful look in his eyes tell everything i know about him in one word.

Pichu: Pichu?

Sephiroth: (Simply Nodded) Very good, my son. He is Worthless.

Roxas: Sheesh. Harsh much?

Xion: Don't pity him, Roxas. They're right.

Roxas: (Notices the Dark Look in Xion's Eyes) Hey, what's with the look for all of sudden!?

Sephiroth: Anyways, after all that set and done, I was then challenged to fight against their ringleader, Xemnas. A fairy decent opponent, at least compared to his lackeys.

..................................................................................

Luxu: But even with all his multiple lasers and sabers hands, that silver haired freak still manage to beat him before leaving us to lick our own wounds.

Invi: And you are certain that he is as strong as he was in the past.

Luxu: Listen, I know I have a history of lying a lot, but trust me when I say that's there's a whole lot more to him than just some pretty boy with long hair and sword. So I don't want any of you to go around trying to fight him, got it?

Aced: (Crosses his Arms) You disappoint me greatly, Luxu.

Luxu: (Rolls his Eyes Again) Oh god, here we go.....

Aced: You expect us, the Foretellers, to run and cower in fear from our enemies and everything we stand for!?

Luxu: ('Sigh') Look, man, I'm not trying to discourage anyone from fighting here. All I'm saying that there's some battles you gotta choose wisely, especially when you have someone as menacing as Sephir-

Aced: (Glares at Luxu) I care not of how menacing he is! I am Aced, the Foreteller of the Ursus Union! And I will show this Sephiroth clown the true meaning of power and strength one way or another! (Summons a Black Portal Behind Him Before Walking Towards It)

Ira/Invi: Aced!

Luxu: (Pinches his Nose While Groaning in Frustration) Oh for the love of fucking-PLEEEEASE don't tell me you're actually planning on fighting him on yourself!

Aced: I made my decision clear. (Turns Back to the Group) And none will be foolish enough to interfere!

The portal disappeared with Aced along with it.

Ira: He left.

Gula: (Turns to Luxu) So should we go after him or...

Luxu: (Holds his Hands Up Before Scoffing) Nope. If he wants to go out there and embarrass himself in pain, then that's all on him. (Walks Away) I'm getting too old for this crap.

Meanwhile Back at the Bar

Lea: (Nodding With his Arms Crossed Together) Alright...... So all we need to do find Luxu and his posse, sic Sephiroth on all of them and hope for the best! (Turns to Sephiroth With a Sheepish Smile) I-If...that's alright with you of course.

Sephiroth: Surely you must have more faith in me than that, Lea. (Shrugs) But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to aid you all just this once.

Lea: Sweet. The plan's in motion then.

Xion: But where would we start looking? They can anywhere right now.

Barret: (Hears Suddenly Hears a Muttering Sound as he Turns to See a Bear Masked Figure Standing Outside, Yelling at the Bar's Glass Door) Uh....I might be wrong....(Points at the Door) But isn't that one of them outside right now?

The gang quickly turns to see the figure in question angrily summoning a Keyblade outside.

Roxas: Keyblade in his hand, wearing a robe and mask? Not doubt that he's one of them.

Lea: (Summons his Own Keyblade with a Grin on his Face) Then let's get a move on then, people!

Sephiroth: (Simply Nodded) ('Hmph')

Barret: (Adjusts his Gatling Hand Gun) Gladly. (Turns to His Co-worker Before Walking Put With Lea and Sephiroth) Isa, my mam, you mind watching my baby girl for me?

Sephiroth: As well as my son please?

Isa: (Nodded To the Duo's Request) I will. (Turns to Roxas and Xion) Be careful out there, you two. And make sure Lea doesn't doesn't do anything stupid.

Roxas/Xion: (Salutes to Isa) Yes sir!

Marlene: (Hugs Xion's Sides) We'll root for you from the inside!

Pichu: (Hugs One of Roxas' Leg) Pichuuu.....

Xion: (Gives Both Marlene and Pichu a Reassuring Smile) No need to worry about us, you two. Your dads, uncle, and big sibs Roxas and Xion got everything under control.

Roxas: (Happily Nodded) Definitely.

Lea: Roxas! Xion! You two still coming or what?

Roxas/Xion: We'll be right there! (Quickly Follows the Others Outside)

Outside of the Bar

Aced: Sephiroth! My instincts know that you are in there! Cease your cowering and come out and fave me!!

Barret: (Walks Out of the Bar With the Others Following Behind) What in the hell are you doing yelling outside our establishment!?

Aced: Move aside, disabled simpleton! You are not the one I am looking for!

Barret: (Fuming in Anger) The fuck did you just call me!? (Starts Marching Over to Aced Before the Seasalt Trio Quickly Stops Him From Moving Forward)

Sephiroth: I believe I'm the one you are look for?

Aced: (Examines Sephiroth's Appearance From a Mid Distance) Long silver hair and sword......(Slowly Starts to Grin Evilly) Yes.....You are exactly the person I seek.

Sephiroth: (Prepared his Battle Stance) I do hope you give a decent challenge. So far, I hear you and your Foretellers group are all nothing but talk.

Aced: (Readied his Stance as Well) Oh, I assure you, we are more than what meets the eyes. Allow me show you the taste of our excellence!

The two warriors rushed over to one to another as they deliver the first slash from their respective blades in a samurai like fashion.

With the sound their of blades clashes together before the two combatants reached over to different spots, the area went to silence with nothing but the sound of the wind passing by.....That is until the roaring sound of pain and agony is heard from the Ursus Foreteller as blood flew off from his body before falling down on his knees, much to everyone else's shock.

Everyone: Ah......SHIT!

Sephiroth: (Gets Himself Up With Little to No Setbacks) Hm. Well, what do you know? I was right.

Aced: (Shaking like a Leaf) H-H-How......How are you this strong- (Coughs Up Blood) I-I trained....my whole life....into becoming the best of the best..And now.....it's all for not!?

Sephiroth: I don't know to what you and your associates are truly capable, nor do I wish to find out. Because so far you've been nothing more than a disappointment in every shape and form

Aced: S-S-So....this is, right? W-Will....this....be the end of my journey?.

Sephiroth: (Let's Out an Evil Chuckle as his Dark Wing Finally Begins to Appear on his Back) Please. We're just getting started. (Turns his Back to Aced With a Sinster Smirk on his Face) You were bold enough to come here and ask for a challenge, right? It would be such a waste if we stop now.

Aced: (Eyes Widened in Utter Fear) N-No....Please....I-I yield.....I can't fight anymore.

Sephiroth: Too late. (Immediately Rushes Over to Aced in Battle Stance)

Aced: NoooooOOOOOOO!-

And with that, Sephiroth traps Aced into his barrage flurry slashes as he screams out in more pain with everyone else staring at the brutal slash down with their eyes still widened..

Lea: ............Okay. Starting today, let's all agree to NEVER challenge Sephiroth to a fight. (Turns to the Others Around Him) Sounds good?

Xion: Yep.

Roxas: Uh-huh.

The trio turns to Barret who is still silent, as he gives them their attention.

Barret: What?

Lea: Dude, come on. You gotta agree to this.

Barret: And why would I do that? I'm big and tougj! I've fought him one!.....With Cliud and Tifa, but still!

Roxas: We know you're strong, Uncle Barret. But there's no telling what he has up his sleeves......

Xion: (Hugs Barret) And the last thing we want for him majorly injure you. Please?

Barret: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fiiiine. I won't try and beat him up. But I swear, if he starts disturbing the peace in front of my bar, there WILL be hell to pay!

Thirty Minutes of Humiliation Later, Back at the Foretellers Secret Hideout.........

Aced walks out of the portal with his robe dirtied and tornup and cuts and bruises are visibly shown all over his face, all while everyone else inside stares at him in silence. Everyone except......

Luxu: 'Eyyyyy here, big guy! How was the bout? You won? Lost? ('Scoffs') Who am I kidding? Of course you lost! You look all bruised up.

Aced glared at the apprentice in silence before walking away.

Luxu: Oh you're giving me the silent treatment right now? You were talking all that good shit about how powerful you are minutes ago! And now look at you: you're a dumbass walking in shame. (Quickly Dodges the Keyblade Axed Chucks at Him) Ha! You missed!

Luxu then gets hit on the head with a rock as he falls down.

'Thud'

Luxu: ........Still a dumbass, big guy!

@cyber-wildcat

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

@khtext

@bestpony666

@theweebmaster31

[author-a-holmes]

@unbearable-lightness-of-ink

I'm gonna chime straight in and say; If you have time PLEASE add your advice/process too!

Everyone writes differently and what works for me may utterly destroy someone elses manuscript, so I do think an alterantive perspective on a drafting process could help either OP or someone else who reads this.

No pressure of course, as I know you've said you're at work, but if you feel so inclined, I'd definitely be interested in reading your process <3

(How other writers work, and draft, and edit, it endlessly fascinating to me! For me, personally, my outline usually acts as my zero draft, so my "first draft" is usually incredibly clean, at least in terms of plot/structure. Darkling is introducing a whole new process for me so I'm excited to see how you handle full rewrites as someone who has never done one before!)

It has recently occurred to me that to make a second draft after the first one I have to... rewrite the entire thing?? Not just, take the document and, edit ON IT, OVER it.

And that a first draft is not really supposed to be... readable?

Guys I need help,.how do you do drafts??

[unproduciblesmackdown]

was just talking about how i love simply not talking to anyone ever (dramatic irony for the audience) like yes i am standoffish, standing off over here, i will issue declarations in general, i am so wise and prudent and gracious in these times like seeing something all “oh hmm i could offer this counterpoint, even humorously” and then going no just scroll on by lol, i do not want to discuss my niche perspex on the faves, i know everything already & am correct, i don’t want to deal with “oops these are social expectations i’m not going to meet & they’ll think i’m Unfriendly for it anyways,” and so on. anyways truly i’m just always putting a hand on my own shoulder like, avoiding Spontaneity online, that spontaneity is reserved for [i Am talking with you & this is as close to Being Myself as it gets, aka “uh oh am i communicating right, is this weird” hesitation is still part of being myself and figuring out what all else i do when being myself is a wip].....twitter is still Social Media for me primarily in the sense i can possibly strike up a rapport with that maybe 60ish lady who seems to watch billions and tweet for winston; i livetweet for fun & to talk about the quants & taylor mostly lol so congratulations to people who get to see it, i got a reply on one tweet about the quants like gasp, is this the one person? but it was a total rando then talking about prince in the same scene like oh uh okay. i then, too spontaneously, reply b/c i Don’t disagree, like lmao yeah and seriously the whistleblower completely wrong definition. they then reply arguing about how i disagree with them. i had that coming with a random spontaneous twitter interaction and with ignoring my own wisdom. i simply Liked the reply, thanks to my backup graciousness. it’s kim wynnstannery rando twitter user or nothing out here

[cbk1000]

I'm going to have to respectfully disagree about Outlander. I've read the books and watch the show, multiple times (only 8 books, not 10). I've missed some of your discussion I think, but Jamie isn't rapey or anything in the books. The most you could say is he's a product of his time in regards to a woman's place, but he mostly gets over that in the first book. And they only spend part of one book apart really. And the later books talk much more about possible consequences, (1/5)

trueromantic1 said:but so far much more is about not being able to change history, at least not the big things. The books occasionally talk about how they might change little things, and that in the long run it might have an impact, but mostly so far it’s taken the stance that the big things are sort of fixed in time. And there are actually multiple other time travelers. As someone who has both read them and watched the show (and who enjoys both) I’d be happy to discuss them more with you and your other (2/5)

interested followers (since like I said I haven’t read your whole discussion, but it sounds like you both are getting your info from people who aren’t totally up on both mediums, but I could be wrong). Also, Gabaldon doesn’t say they aren’t romance. She’s called them romance herself. I didn’t read them back when she first started though, so maybe it was different back then. (Seriously not trying to be rude or disrespectful, just sounds like you have incorrect or incomplete info.) (3/5)

And I’m not saying there isn’t rape or attempted rape, because there definitely is in many of the books, though usually only once, except for when Black Jack Randall is involved (and I hate the “but it’s historically accurate” stuff as well). And obviously if a person doesn’t like them, they don’t. I’m not hating on anyone who dislikes the books/movies. Just offering a different opinion. And there isn’t as much (4/5)

rape as I’ve seen lots of people say. I’m honestly not sure why Claire annoys some people, but again, we all like different things. Why don’t you like Gabaldon? I admit I don’t pay much attention to author drama, so long as I enjoy the book. (5/5)

Admittedly, I’ve not read much of the first book (and I’ve only seen the first season of the show), so I’m debating with limited tools based on secondhand reviews and comments from my sister (whose opinion I trust). Anyone else who wants to jump in on either side is welcome.

It seems to me that the books are very problematic in that Jamie might be a ‘product of his time’, but the books were written by a modern woman with a modern audience in mind (and the main character herself, while not living in a perfect world, still comes from a post-suffrage era). The narrative, then, ought to be able to handle his archaic attitude toward women without romanticizing it, which from what I have read, it doesn’t do. In his time period, a man may not have been able to legally rape his wife, and even in Claire’s timeline, it might not yet have been a criminal act, but it is in Diana Galbadon’s, and I don’t think modern readers can be expected to divest themselves of those ideals so that they can consider Jamie a sexy romantic hero. (What I am referring to, if this isn’t clear, is that he essentially tells her he gets to have sex with her whenever he wants, whether SHE wants to or not. Which may have been legally acceptable at the time, but it’s not to modern day readers.)

So far as my comment about whatever Gabaldon wants to think, the books are in fact romance–she has a sort of shitty attitude toward the romance genre. She seems, from comments she’s made, to consider herself above the genre (because, of course, real writers don’t write romance novels) in the same way that Nicholas Sparks considers himself a ‘writer of Greek tragedies’, not a romance author.

But my main issue really with her is that she made an excessively shitty blog post about how fanfiction is comparable to white slavery because you are taking her characters and using them for your own (often sick ‘slash’ pairing) purposes. She also compared it to a hypothetical scenario in which a middle-aged neighbor writes graphic, erotic fiction about her 21-year-old daughter and sends it to her (her point being that it’s not illegal, but it is creepy as fuck). She really strikes me as a colossal asshole, and in my opinion, she relies way too much on rape as a plot device (there are several attempted rapes in the first season of the show and a couple of actual rapes, and I’ve heard this is vastly toned down from the books).

All this, though, as I’ve said, comes from my having watched the first season of the show, and the bits and pieces I’ve read of the first book, in combination with commentary from my sister and others who have read farther than I have. Again, anyone more knowledgeable is welcome to step in and add to the discussion.

And, honestly, from everything I have read and personally seen, I do not agree with you, but thank you for messaging me with a different perspective; it helps to open a dialogue, which is never a bad thing.   

[luveline]

can we get shy! reader x remus where they’re just in their own little bubble and the other marauders and lily and the girls think it’s the cutest thing ever?

i love you and your writing!! <33

thank you!! ♡ shy!fem!reader | 0.6k words

Remus has always been steady. His voice is warm and measured, his every movement thought through. 

You'd love to be that way. You're not and you never have been but sometimes, with Remus, you get close. He's pulled your thighs over his lap and you've forgotten to feel bashful about it, though there's a heat from being so close to him spreading over your entire body. 

You're smiling. Really smiling. 

"It's disgusting," Sirius says where he sits a little ways away with the rest of your friends. 

"I think it's nice," James says. "She never smiles like that." 

"She smiles like that all the time," Lily argues 

"Only with Remus. When they get like that," Sirius says, pretending to gag. 

Remus has inclined his head to yours, his hand clasped lightly around your forearm for no reason at all. He's just said something to make you laugh, a peel of giggles foreign to the group despite having known you for years. You sound pleased though shy. It's obvious what he's saying, his lips curled up, sweet nothings that have you closing your eyes and dropping your head into his shoulder.

Remus raises a big hand to your back and claps it gently.  

"That's, like, illegal right?" Sirius asks.

"It's a bit much, Pads, but I don't think it's prosecutable." James says, wrinkling his nose as Remus ducks down to whisper something in your ear. "Might be soon, though."

"Keep your hands to yourself, Moony!" Sirius shouts. 

Remus pulls his hand from where it had been perfectly chaste on your thigh and throws the bird in the general direction of your friends. 

"It's PDA to the extreme." 

"Technically, it's not public," Lily says. 

"Might as well be. It's my house," James grumbles. "Why are they always gross in my house?"

"Do you think they know we can hear them?" Remus whispers to you.

You pull your head off of his shoulder. You're embarrassed about being so lovey-dovey in the middle of a party, really, it's not like you, but Remus has this way about him that you're hopeless for. He's a warm flame. You melt anytime he gets close enough, and right now you're more than close. 

Worse than his proximity is the clear, undeniable affection and esteem that he holds you in. He's adoring in more than touch. The way he talks to you, as if every word is something to be treasured - ugh. You feel sick with it. 

"I think it's fucking adorable," Mary chimes in. 

Sirius scowls at her. "You think everything's adorable." 

"It's cute," Marlene agrees reluctantly. 

"McKinnon!" 

"What? Look at them! And Lily's right, when do you get to see Y/N smiling like that? Only when they're together being gross. I say leave them to it." 

"It's nice," Emmmaline says. 

You tilt your head back and whisper something to Remus, looking unsure of yourself. 

He bursts into laughter, loud and urgent, his hand gripping your thigh in a tight grip. "Dove," he says, almost chiding. 

"What?" you ask, though his laughter has swiftly infected you and left you breathless, gasping for air through thick rounds of giggling. 

"Ugh," Sirius says, looking over his shoulder at your laughing with a scowl. When he turns back, everybody is smiling. "Oh, get a hold of yourselves, I beg." 

[bradleyfuckingbradshaw]

Bad Liar 

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Summary: You work at The Hard Deck beach bar and Rooster’s developed a huge crush on you. So, with his friends’ help, he finds out what your favorite song is just so he can learn it on the piano and get your attention by playing and singing it at the top of his lungs one night.

Summary is courtesy of @theartofimagining13 and requested by @americaarse

"Who is that?" Rooster tips his head slightly to peer over the top of his sunglasses as he takes you in. Your smile, your hair, your body. It's enough to make a grown man fall to his knees in prayer.

"That's Y/N," Payback says, taking a swig from his almost empty beer.

"The new bartender," Coyote chimes in with a smirk that makes Rooster want to smack it right off his face. His possessiveness surprises him but can anyone really blame him? Look at you. You're breathtaking, and Rooster has a feeling, you know exactly what kind of effect you have on the customers of the Hard Deck bar.

"You look like you need a new one," Rooster says, looking over at Payback. It's the perfect excuse to approach the bar, and just as Rooster prepares the kind of smile that normally makes people swoon, you spin around to attend to another customer. He waits patiently but by the time, you've managed to serve pretty much everyone except him, he's getting a little tired of waiting.

"Could I get a couple of beers," he says loudly, flashing his pearly whites. You take one look at him, roll your eyes and grab three beers from the fridge underneath the bar top.

"One more," he requests, adding, "please."

"You've got a tab or do you want to pay now?" you ask and for the first time, he gets to properly look at your face. Your eyes reminds him of a stormy day on the beach, and he knows right then and there that he'll never be able to let you go.

"You can put it on my tab," he grins but you just scoff.

"I'll need a name and card for a tab," you inform him, and he puffs out his chest just a little. So sure you'll feel your knees get a little weak when he tells you.

"Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. I'm a naval aviator for the United States. But you can call me Rooster."

"Why, gee. Are we keeping such fine company tonight? You hear that, Penny. We've got a naval aviator in tonight," you smile sarcastically, and Rooster can't help but enjoy the sight of you. His cheeks burn when he realises that obviously you're used to dealing with pilots. But he's up for the challenge.

"Thanks for the beers," he says, winking before turning around and rejoining the rest of the pilots.

And after that, Rooster makes it a point to come to the bar anytime you have a shift. It's not hard to figure out that you're there Thursday, Friday and you close up on Sundays. Rooster finds Sunday's the easiest to get your attention. Fewer people to contend with despite his very obvious attempts to flirt with you.

"I'm going to crack you one day, you know." That's what he tells you, and you just laugh at him. You actually laugh at him. To be honest, Rooster never imagined that he'd fall hopelessly in love with the one person who seems inclined to never even consider him that way, but something about your smile tells him that you enjoy this little game of yours.

"Favorite song? Come on, you can give me at least that," he requests but once again, you just ignore him. You're not making this easy for him, but Rooster is a creative guy. Especially, when Penny tells him on a Wednesday where you're not there.

"Walking in Memphis."

"What?" Rooster asks. He hadn't even meant to show up today, because he knew you wouldn't be here, but somehow he still found himself sitting by the piano.

"You asked Y/N about their favorite song. It's Walking in Memphis. Do what you want with that information." And Rooster definitely does. One week and he's playing it almost perfectly. When he debuts it on a Friday night, it's perfect.

-----

Friday rolls around, and you can't help but wonder whether Bradley will make an appearance once again tonight. So far, he hasn't missed a single shift of yours. And as much as you want to pretend that he's just another pilot running up a tab at the bar, you still get butterflies at the thought of seeing him tonight. You've grown quite fond of your little banter.

"Hey Penny," you smile, tying an apron around your waist before entering the bar area. It's not even five o'clock, and already the bar is packed. You won't admit the giddy feeling when you see Rooster enter only moments to anyone.

"Y/N," he greets, tipping an invisible hat in your direction. It's a busy night, and you hardly have time to think. You're on autopilot as people throw orders at you, and at first you don't realize what he's playing on the piano. But when he reaches the chorus, he sings it at the top of his lungs, and your brain finally picks up on the song. You're not even surprised, when you look over and he's already looking straight at you. Even if you wanted to, there's no hiding the smile plastered on your face. You have no idea how he found out what your favorite song is, but it just might be one of the sweetest things a guy has ever done for you. But it's a busy night, and you have no time to talk to him after his performance. You notice that he stays though. Even when the rest of his group scatters, he stays behind.

"When do you get off?" he asks, once it's finally quieted down. There are still a few regulars sipping on the last beer of the night, but the bar is closed for new orders by now.

"In an hour. And then I'm going straight home to sleep." It's almost three in the morning, and you have to appreciate his resilience. You know he has to be ready for training in a couple of hours despite it being a Saturday, and still he's at the bar waiting for you.

"Want me to walk you home?" he asks but this time, there's something different about the way he's asking. He's already asked you this question a million times, and every time you've playfully denied his request. Tonight though, he's looking at you and there's no playful banter in his eyes.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" There's no denying the fact that you're attracted to him, but you're not some conquest. You want the real deal, and now that's he's looking at you like that, you feel your cheeks heat up.

"Do you?" Yes. No. Maybe. You know exactly what's going happen, if he walks you home. But you're not sure you're ready for that.

"Honestly? No." You watch as his face falls. The first time he's seemed bothered by you rejecting him, and it kills you. Your heart is screaming at you to say something, but you're frozen in place.

"Then I should probably get going." When he reaches the door, you finally find your voice and call out: "I'm not inviting you inside."

"What?" he laughs a little confused.

"You can walk me home, but you're not getting invited in." He walks back to the bar and sits down on of the tall chairs.

"Okay."

Obviously, he gets invited in.

[themissingmarvel]

Onwards Through the Upside-Down (Part 2) Eddie Munson x Reader

(Horray! Part two! I have a lot planned for this, but I'm also not one who writes time travel and haven't since DragonBall Z, so please bear with me. If you have feedback, send it my way, or drop a like if you're feeling inclined to do so and think it's worth it. If not, no worries. I kinda like this one. This is a little more backstory/character building, but I'm all about the slow burn.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x future!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language

Part 1 // Part 2 //

It was safe to say that everyone who had battled Vecna, the Demogorgons, and all the other chaos that came from the Upside-Down, was well acquainted with the word ‘weird’. The chaos had been so much, and in the process of those already at One’s old home in Hawkins proper getting Max to the emergency room, the rest were still at the trailer. With you.

“Dude! Don’t touch her!” Steve shot out his arm to block Dustin from going to your crumpled form on the ground.

He gave him an incredulous look. “Didn’t you just grab her shoulder?”

Steve huffed, a little defensive, “Well, I mean- we don’t know if that’s why she passed out,” he adjusted the gear on his body, all of them staring down at you.

Robin raised an eyebrow, “You think you made her pass out by shaking her shoulder?”

“What if she’s dead?” Nancy chimed, anxiety trilling in her voice.

“She saved my life,” was the only thing Eddie was able to say as he watched you. He was bleeding still, looking somewhat like Steve when he had his initial run-in, though with more clothes. He had, for some reason, brought his guitar with him through the Upside-Down. Not that there was a lot of thinking to be had during the chaos, trying to get through with poor Dustin who was nursing a broken leg.

Steve turned back to Eddie, then back to you, kneeling down. He knew it was stupid, probably, to be doing this, but if Eddie was right, then you weren’t a threat. You didn’t look like anything that came from that wretched world of death and pain. You looked… well, normal. A little beaten up, but normal, “Guys, she’s got blood on her. I think we need to check her out,” he looked up at the two women.

He was a good man, Steve Harrington. The World’s Best Babysitter was a title he held dearly and it was well-placed. He took in strays, it seemed, to the point where it had become a running gag. He wasn’t about to check your body for injuries given you were, well… you know. A girl? Probably not a robot, right? Robots didn’t bleed, did they? He hadn’t seen Terminator since it came out two years ago.

And, were he being honest, there was something about you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but you felt different. He was worried, which wasn’t totally abnormal, but it felt different. He felt like he was taking in another stray and it reminded him of walking out to face one of the demidogs, battered and bruised, carrying a baseball bat with nails in it.

Nancy stepped forward and crouched by Steve, concern on her features as she looked you over, “Step back, let me look at her,” she nodded at Steve to step away. He did, trusting Nancy, though he could never figure out exactly why. Well, he knew why. Steve loved Nancy. He had always loved Nancy. He had loved Nancy in the way that didn’t totally make sense, and where he had shouted internally that she had moved on. He loved her without having to tell her as much, but knowing if she ever decided to come back to him, he wouldn’t hesitate. She was a thing of dreams and he had never let go of his feelings.

Eddie, Steve, and Dustin all turned away, Robin stepping forward awkwardly as Nancy lifted the bottom of your shirt a bit to just under your bust, struggling to do so. There was indeed blood caked on it, and it did look like some of it was yours. But nothing was bleeding currently, which she was mostly concerned about. What caught her eye, however, were the healed marks over your body. The parts of you she could see had all sorts of scarring, some resembling bites with fangs, some cuts, some burns. You looked so wounded, and she felt her heart ache deeply, “Oh god…” she had muttered.

He had wanted to turn, but Eddie had way too much respect for this new goddess to do such a thing, so he inquired instead, “Is she okay? What is it?” He tried not to be frantic, but given what they’d all been through he supposed it was fine to be a little frantic.

Robin had seen it too, exchanging a look with Nancy in that moment, an unspoken understanding the two women had, “Nothing. She’s got some bites but she seems okay otherwise.”

Nancy readjusted your shirt, standing and shaking her head as the others turned, sensing the modesty wasn’t needed anymore, “Doesn’t answer who she is, or how she got here, though.”

“She said she was from the future,” Dustin echoed, having been yelling it at first when they had all come at you, desperate for answers.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “No, dude, she said a sphinx had cronoshifted her! Difference!” He tapped the child’s forehead with his index finger.

Steve looked confused, “That’s even weirder. Why would she say that?”

It was Robin who spoke the answer though, to the riddle that felt ironic to call it as much, “Because it’s something she knew we’d understand. Or at least, you. I don’t get that nerd crap, like, at all,” her eyes widened, having used her best guess to assume it was something related to what the kids did.

“But if she’s from the future, who sent her?” Steve looked down, sighing.

_

It had been hard, when you had first come to the United States. You spoke at least four languages so that wasn’t the issue. Rather, you had no family to speak of, but when news of the Burned Warriors came through, those with experience with the Death World and the monsters inside, had stepped in and offered to help. Your father had a lot of experience with things that didn’t always make sense, and he had found himself with an abundance of patience and love. He had offered to take you in, his own wife happy to have you join their family. Post-apocalypse or not, they hadn’t let it stop them. They had hope. They would win.

The first thing he had done when you arrived was tell the US Government to fuck themselves. No more fighting, at least not yet. You were a child, he had scolded them, and you were going to heal. You had been born to die, they had told you growing up. A warrior. A fighter. There were so few equipped to really handle the monsters coming through and they needed people who weren’t afraid. Who knew how to fight. And they had bred you in much the same way as Eleven. As Jane. They wanted some who could get close to Henry again, who could survive in the Death World.

Your father had taken in a child who at twelve had already seen their share of pain and who hadn’t been given much love. Not in the way one needed. Of course he had seen the reflection of Jane in you, of someone born to fight. But he had promised you love. And he had delivered. He never asked about your nightmares, but he had come in when you were screaming. And your mother had never asked about what you’d experienced, but she kissed your head just the same when you were asleep. They had welcomed you in, and while you hadn’t been as close with your siblings, you knew love.

It’s what made this so hard.

WIll had told you that you couldn’t share the details of your world with them, possibly risking the timeline. He had made you promise you understood, looking at his weathered face and grey hair, made you swear you grasped the gravity of it.

Born to die you had considered.

-

Coming to had felt so strange, your brain foggy as you lifted your head, trying to make sense of the world around you. It wasn’t familiar, which had triggered your fight-or-flight, and set off an unfortunate series of events that came next.

“Guys! I think she’s-“

Oh, poor Steve.

You jumped off the bed, Eddie’s bed in the room he hadn’t slept in since… well, Chrissy. Not that he’s gotten any sleep as it was. But you leapt forward, your training kicking in and going for the closest moving thing around you, which at present was Steve Harrington who had been convinced by an odd combo of Nancy and Eddie to be gentle. He was regretting that now as he watched you jump at him, snapping as you knocked him to the ground.

Steve let out a sharp cry, no time to even try and respond as he watched you withdraw a blade, one hidden, and aim it for his neck. If he could have described the look in your eyes it would have been “feral”, seeing that briefly there was almost nothing there.

But what you heard as the blade got closer, your eyes wide and your blood pumping, was his plea, “Hey hey hey hey hey hey hey! You’re safe! I swear!”

In that moment the blade dropped from your hand. The crew that came running, bottlenecked in tight trailer, would see you stumble off of Steve and kick the blade away.

You remembered hearing him, that day he had come into your room when you were still new to their home, still frightened and screaming in four different languages. You remembered as he grabbed your smaller form with no hesitation and he said those same words. That same timbre. That same love.

Steve Harrington had been your father for all those years that were important. He had raised you alongside his own children just the same. He had loved you. And that love, in that moment, transcended time itself.

But you couldn’t tell him.

Scrambling back and to your feet you shook your head, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I just- I didn’t know where I was. Where I am. I'm sorry,” your eyes were wide and tears were beginning to form.

Eddie stepped in first, holding the shield as he looked at you, your face turning quizzical as you eyed him, “What the fuck is that?”

He was almost offended, Steve slowly getting to his feet and stepping between the two, “It’s a shield!”

“No. That’s a garbage can lid with metal shards on it. What, are you fighting dangerous trash?” You smirked.

“It fought off those bat things in the Upside-Down!” Dustin yelled out defensively.

“The Upside-Down…” you considered the name, remembering that’s what your father and Will had called it when they weren’t talking to the military.

“Listen, as much as these conversations are going great, I would love to know who you are, and where you came from,” Steve sounded exhausted, and he looked like hell. They all did.

You paused to look around, recognizing the chaos and again seeing Eddie, the one you had saved. You remembered his face from stories, Dustin had spoken highly of him, in the time you’d known him before he was killed, like so many others. Eddie had been the thing of heroes and stories. He had died, long ago. He had died with that shitty shield, saving Dustin and the rest of the world. He had died a villain to many and he had been crucified as such. But here he was, someone who had never survived past the initial decent into chaos; alive.

You had felt drawn to him, oddly enough. Part of you wondered as you stood in the room, having been laying on his bed, if you were two people both living where they didn’t belong. He was meant to be dead, and it would be years before you were even born. You were both anomalies living outside of logic and already one of Will’s theories had proven correct, the timeline intact still even with a major change.

Looking back at Steve you felt such incredible sadness. He wasn’t your father, not yet. He was still scared, and he was still doing the best he could, pining after the woman not feet away. He had died in your arms only hours ago and it was painful to be looking at him. At a ghost. At a world filled with ghosts.

“I… it’s complicated,” you frowned, adjusting the clothes on your form, feeling the pain from the wounds that would need cleaning.

A scoff could be heard, “You think this isn’t already complicated?” Nancy looked at you, focused. That was a face you knew anywhere. And it broke you.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. I just- I can’t tell you everything. But I’m from the future, and you guys are the reason I’m here,” you frowned. How could you tell any of them they were gone? Will hard warned you that disclosing too much would put them at risk, possibly harm the outcome of the world moving forward. You were meant to fix this timeline and if done right, would change the world. It would be as though none of it happened.

“Does that mean I’ll die? That I’ll never be born? That I won’t exist anymore?”

He frowned, “If I tell you, will you still go?”

You considered through the gravity of it all, “Without hesitation.”

Steve looked at you heavily, and considered his options. He felt it, the truth. He could hear it in your voice, the truth that lingered out and danced forward. He didn’t really know why he wanted it to be true, too. He told himself that if something so impossible could happen, maybe it meant they had a chance against Vecna. One. Henry. El couldn’t do it alone, and maybe with you, did that mean there was another chance?

“I mean, she did say a sphinx chronoshifted her here,” Dustin tossed out the comment, clearly siding with you, a stranger.

You grinned a bit, “Can’t make this shit up, can I?”

“You could, probably,” Robin tossed out, behind Eddie.

Smiling, feeling suddenly at peace surrounded by ghosts, deciding to live in what felt like a memory rather than fight it, you nodded, “I could. But how many people would show up telling you they’re here to take out Henry? How many more have the means to do so?” You raised an eyebrow.

The group exchanged looks, ranging from confusion to excitement, before Steve spoke up again, “We need to get back to everyone. Now.”

-

The ride back had been haunting for the group. You had been tucked in the back of the RV, the one that had been stolen but now didn’t really matter, all things considered. Eddie was sitting across from you on one of the other cushions, looking at you skeptically. You were staring back at him, not one to stray from even a staring contest. He had the guitar still, the one from the Upside-Down, as you were now calling it. He had told Dustin begrudgingly that it was haunted, therefore cooler. He had busted out a song that had been released not two weeks earlier, playing it better than Metallica ever could. You knew that, because you had heard Metallica play it a few times, and it was never that good. Or at least, that was how Dustin told the story.

“Wait, can you tell us anything about the future?” Steve chimed in, trying to break the quiet of the ride, Nancy beside him in the front, Dustin and Robin in the back with you and Eddie.

You looked over, seeing his eyes in the rear view mirror, “Depends. If you want to know if you ever get a haircut, the answer is no,” you smirked.

Robin let out a stifled laugh and Nancy giggled in the front. Dustin looked pleased, “I knew it. I bet his hair looks even better in the future!”

You smiled, still able to see him pushing back the hair peppered with grey, still long and still enough that Nancy would sit and run her fingers through it on quiet days when they were able to sit on the roof of the apartment building in the sun, in the quiet areas not taken yet by monsters. You could see love in both their eyes and you understood, as your mother surprised you with another book she’d found in her time exploring the cities, looking for things not yet destroyed or looted.

Eddie kept his eyes on you, though. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you - he did - but there was just something else. He wanted to ask if he had in fact died, where you were from. In some ways he knew he had. If you hadn’t stepped in and saved him, there was no way he would have lived. He had come to a weird kind of peace with his mortality, but you had changed that. So instead he wanted to ask about his legacy; what did the world think of him? Did he want to know? Would you even say?

You turned back to Eddie, feeling his eyes, and offering a sort of soft smile. So many stories, Mike had gone on about the guy with Dustin some days, and he felt more real, now that you were sitting with him. It had occurred to you in your time on the planet, that children weave their own stories, often ones to make things make sense. Eddie had been a hero to them, as Steve had been, but he was different now that you were sitting with him as an adult. He was twenty, and you several years older. They were all twenty, really. Save for Dustin. As real adults, the age had dissipated into nothing, but now, you saw it.

It felt silly to admit he couldn’t take his eyes off you, but Eddie was enamored. Hours had gone by, but when you were laying peaceful in his bed, he had felt it. No real way to explain the emotion that had washed over him, one that he wasn’t familiar with. Eddie had lacked real solid parenting, the unconditional love one got if the world wasn’t stacked against them. He knew love, though. He knew it in concept and theory, and he had tasted it at times. The sensation he got with you felt transformative, at least. It was new.

He hadn’t expected to live only hours ago, but now, sitting in the back of an RV, trying to get back to Hawkins proper with a new goal, a new purpose, he was nothing short of happy. Finally. Even if he wasn’t sure what happened next.

[loverhymeswith]

Call It What You Want | Rick Flag x F!Reader

Pairing: Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: Thank you Anon for this awesome prompt. I've put a bit of a twist on this request and I've purposely redacted part of the prompt to keep the element of surprise!

Warnings: +18 only. Smut, language, drinking.

Word Count: 5,692 words

A/N: Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading and for helping me with the meet-cutes along with @babblydrabbly <3 Also thank you to @yespolkadotkitty for indulging me as I worked on the smut!

Monday August 5th

Sunlight creeps through the small gap in the curtains and bathes the room in a warm orange glow. Beneath the sheets you stretch indulgently. There’s something to be said for waking up in your own bed. Especially considering you’ve been parted from it for the last three months.

Even without the buzz of an alarm, years of habit see you rising before seven am. It might not be the lie-in you were hoping for, but it’s nice to know that you can go about your business today at a leisurely pace.

Although this is your last day of leave before starting your new job, it also happens to be the first day off you’ve had entirely to yourself in a very long time. The past two weeks you’ve been away visiting family. Stressful though that might have been, it was also a rare opportunity to see them after all the time you’ve spent overseas recently.

By the time you’ve showered and dressed, your obligatory caffeine fix is well overdue, but having been away for so long, your cupboards are shamefully bare. It looks like you're heading out for the morning. Not only can you stock up on supplies, but maybe you can treat yourself to a coffee along the way.

It’s a beautiful summer morning, so you leave the car at home and take the short journey into town by foot. It gives you the chance to appreciate the feeling of the ground beneath your feet and the warm sun kissing your skin. Such is the nature of your work that you never really know where you’re going to be from one day to the next, so it's important to grab moments of normality like this whenever you can get them.

When you reach the high street, your go-to coffee shop is packed with an unexpected mid-morning rush. While you’re in no particular hurry, you don’t feel inclined to wait in line behind the gaggle of harried office workers. Besides, there’s another place you’ve spotted a block away that never seems busy and it seems like a good day to try something new.

Despite the bright sunshine outside, the unassuming café is unexpectedly dark when you enter, illuminated only by the warm glow of antique looking lamps fixed haphazardly to the walls. It feels very much like you’ve wandered onto the set of a creepy horror film. Not to mention, the place is deserted.

A weathered old woman wearing a yellowing apron and a permanent scowl stands behind the counter, rapping her fingernails against the wood. Behind her, a handwritten sign declares ‘No Refills. No Refunds.’

A promising omen, you think. Perhaps you should have been a little more discerning.

“What do you want?” She barks out impatiently, and you realise you’ve been daydreaming.

“Just a flat white to go, please.” You doubt there’s any chance of a skimmed hazelnut latte and you’d like to get out of here sooner rather than later.

The woman huffs out an indignant sigh, as if she can’t quite believe the audacity of a customer actually wanting to place an order. Only after swiping your card far more viciously than is necessary does she turn around and begin preparing your drink.

No wonder this place is empty.

As you wait, wondering if you should have just sucked it up and queued for Starbucks, the shop door chimes open. Surprised that someone else has been brave enough to enter, you spare a glance over your shoulder. You’re not sure what you’re expecting to find – Gollum, perhaps?- but it certainly isn’t the tall, broad man in the navy windbreaker and faded jeans.

Adjusting the khaki ball cap that covers most of his dark blonde hair, the man comes to stand beside you, towering over you by almost a foot. The barista - although you are loathed to give her such a title – returns to the counter and addresses him in the same brittle manner. At least it’s not just you she’s taken such a disliking to.

If the man is taken aback by her rudeness, he doesn’t let it show, simply placing his order in a pleasantly deep and rumbling southern drawl.

“Kinda wish I’d queued for Starbucks now,” he mutters once the woman is out of earshot, precisely echoing your own thoughts. It takes a beat for you to realise that by default he must be talking to you. The shop is otherwise vacant, after all.

Raising your head to get a better look at your fellow customer, your eyes land on a handsome face, clean-shaven but for the faintest shadow of stubble across a strong, angular jawline. A pair of intense hazel eyes gaze down upon you and his inviting looking mouth quirks up into a faint smile.

“Sorry, rude of me to assume you don’t come here every day." A fleeting glimmer of panic passes over his features. “You don’t, do you?”

“No,” you assure him with an amused smile. “It’s a first for me, too.”

He nods, looking relieved not to have offended you. Before the conversation can continue, an angry buzzing sounds from his general direction. He digs a large hand into the pocket of his well-fitting jeans and pulls out his cell phone. Frowning at whatever he finds on the screen, he swipes to reject the call and stuffs it back in his pocket.

Realising that you’ve been staring, you quickly avert your attention back to the counter. While you’re single and most definitely not looking to mingle for the time being, you can certainly still appreciate the appeal of an attractive man, and you have to admit that this guy is good looking. Strikingly so, in fact.

There's no chance to lose yourself to fantasies though, because a plain white take-out cup is soon thrust unceremoniously on the counter before you. You thank the woman far more politely than she deserves and make your way out of the shop, leaving the man to face the wrath of the barista alone.

You’ve barely made it out the door when you bring the cup to your lips, ready for that sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, only to realise something is wrong. You can tell from the scent alone, strong and bitter, that this is not what you ordered. Sure enough, when you peel off the plastic lid you are greeted by the sight of a black coffee. Not a hint of cream to be seen.

In the past you might have just made do, anything to avoid confrontation. But you are no longer the pushover that your ex so charmingly proclaimed you to be, not to mention the fact that you can't stand black coffee, so you square your shoulders and march straight back inside.

Unfortunately, just as you are entering, the other customer is attempting to exit and you narrowly avoid spilling hot coffee all over his broad chest.

“Woah, easy there darlin’. Didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to return.”

It only takes a fleeting glimpse of his soft smile for you to feel a flutter stirring in your chest. Damn it, he really is very good looking.

Offering an awkward smile of your own, you tap the offending item in your hand. “She gave me the wrong order.”

He opens the lid of his cup and peers inside, a grimace rapidly marring his handsome features. “Guess that makes two of us. Gonna go out on limb here and assume this is yours.” He holds out his cup to you and sure enough, he appears to have your flat white.

“Don’t know how you can drink it with all that milk and sugar crap,” he remarks, calloused fingers brushing against your skin as you exchange cups.

“Guess it’s lucky for you I noticed then. Did you see the sign-”

“No refills or refunds,” he recites, shaking his head. “Yeah, let’s never do that again. Not gonna lie, I was worried after you left that she might try lockin’ me up in her basement or somethin’.”

“I’m sure you could have handled it.” Your eyes subtly rake over his impressive frame again. “But yes, Starbucks or nothing in future,” you agree.

With a final chuckle, the two of you part ways.

Keen to make the most of the sunlight and fresh air after the dark and dreary coffee shop, you take a leisurely stroll through the park while you sip your flat white and make a mental list of what you need to buy from the store.

If Starbucks was busy, the grocery store is the stark opposite. Not only is it seemingly empty of customers, but there is a noticeable absence of staff too. It wouldn't be a problem, were it not for the fact that the last carton of toothpaste is tucked away on the top shelf, well out of your reach. You used the last of yours this morning and there’s simply no way you're turning up on your first day of work without fresh breath.

Cursing your small stature, you try looking for someone to help, but aside from a frail old man by the confectionary stand, the aisles are abandoned. You dump your basket on the floor. Perhaps if you just put your foot on the bottom shelf you can climb up and…

"Never understood why they put these things so high up. Need a hand?"

The deep voice catches you by surprise, fortunately just in time to prevent you from actually using the shelves as a climbing frame.

"Please." You return your foot to solid ground and point out the item you've been trying to reach. As you begin to turn around, you find yourself face to face with a solid expanse of male chest.

The tall stranger easily grabs the last carton without so much as a stretch. "There ya go. Wouldn't wanna see you get hurt. Pretty sure these places have no-liability clauses."

Stepping back to properly appraise your saviour, you have to blink twice. Because you recognise that windbreaker and ball-cap combination.

It's coffee-shop guy.

He offers you the carton and for the second time today his fingers brush yours. It's only when you withdraw your hand that he looks at you - really looks at you.

A flicker of recognition flickers across his own face and the corners of his eyes crease as he smiles back at you. And what a smile it is.

"Well, thank you for saving me from breaking my neck in the name of fresh breath." You cringe at the words even as they leave your mouth.

"Just returnin' the favour. You saved me from drinkin' your shitty coffee." He's grinning now. It lights up his face and you wonder why you haven't seen him on the giant billboards on the way into town. You're confident this man could sell water to the ocean.

"Hey, speak for yourself."

He flashes you a sexy smirk before loping off.

As you leave the store, you briefly wonder about the strange coincidence. But by the time you get home and unpack your shopping, both the thought and the man have vanished from your mind.

With your schedule now clear for the rest of the day, you decide to hit the gym, hoping it will help release some of the nervous tension that's been building as your first day draws closer. You've never really been able to make the most of your membership, but hopefully now with a more regular shift pattern and less travel, you can start to enjoy the benefits.

You work out for the best part of an hour, hitting the treadmill and some of the free weights, before calling it a day. Jumping into the elevator, a sweaty mess, you press the button for the basement parking lot. The doors are just beginning to shut when a big hand, followed by a muscular forearm reaches through the gap, halting the closure.

You jam your finger against the door-open button and the latecomer slips inside, flashing you a grateful smile. One hand holds a phone to his ear, while the other carries a gym bag. Preoccupied by his phone call, he nods his thanks in your general direction.

It's only when the now familiar pair of hazel eyes land on you, that it hits you.

It's coffee-shop guy.

Again.

You almost didn't recognise him without the ball-cap; his dark blonde hair is damp and swept to one side. This time he’s dressed in a tight black tee and loose-fitting work-out shorts. Tattoos peek out from beneath his sleeves, wrapping around each corded bicep and you can't help but marvel that he's been hiding such an impressive body all this time.

He definitely notices you, too, because the pinch of annoyance between his brows softens and the side of his mouth ticks up. Is he thinking the same thing?

You again.

You've never considered yourself to be an eavesdropper, but as the lift begins it's slow descent, you can't help overhearing his conversation. After all, it's a very small space and there's just the two of you in here.

"Goddammit, John. She can't keep changin' the plan like this. Anyone would think she wants us to fail."

His gruff voice sends a forbidden thrill along your spine. You try to avert your gaze, but with the mirrored walls it seems that everywhere you look there's a glimpse of his body.

"I'm just tellin' you, I don't like this." You watch via the mirror's reflection as he runs his thick fingers through his hair, sweeping back the lengths that have fallen across his damp brow.

"Do you think it's what I said about her blouse?"

He's still on the phone when the elevator doors reopen at your destination. You sneak a final peak at his deliciously toned calves before making your way through the parking lot.

After a few seconds, you're conscious that he seems to be following you. For the briefest moment you wonder if he could be stalking you. It would certainly explain these strange coincidences. But then the big black Jeep next to your car illuminates with the click of a button and you realise that he's simply parked next to you.

Releasing a soft sigh, you chastise yourself for jumping to conclusions. Not every man is a predator. You cast a final, rather wistful look in his direction before climbing into your car.

You don’t make a habit of drinking by yourself, especially not on a work night, but a new bar has opened a few blocks from your apartment and when you walk past it later that evening, you find yourself enticed inside.

Promising yourself it's just going to be the one drink, you head to the crowded bar. It’s busy for a Monday night, but you eventually make your way towards the front of the queue.

As you wait to be served, someone jostles you from behind, pushing you into the customer in front of you. Your hand darts out to prevent yourself from face planting his back.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” You apologise profusely, quickly removing your hand from his t-shirt. The last thing you want is for some random guy to think you're feeling him up.

The customer glances over his shoulder and as his eyes travel over you, you realise with a start that he’s not such a stranger after all.

Come on.

Again?

What are the chances?

It's quite easy to spot the exact moment that he recognises you. A flash of surprise leaps across his fine features and a wry grin forms on his lips. He shuffles over to make room for you to join him at the bar.

“OK. I gotta ask, darlin’. Are you followin’ me? Cos this must be the third time I’ve ran into you today.”

“Fourth actually.” You can’t help but correct him. “Grocery store, remember?”

“Right.” He's still grinning down at you. “How is it I've never seen you round before? You just move here or somethin'?"

You shrug, thinking the same thing. “It's a big town. I've never seen you, either.”

Pretty sure I'd remember...

“Touché,” He laughs. With the bartender now waiting to take his order, he pauses to look at you. “What are you drinkin'?”

You hesitate for a split second, before thinking why the hell not. What's the worst that could happen? You've been bumping into him all day, you may as well let him buy you a drink.

Once you both have a beer in hand, your legs seem to be carrying you of their own accord and you wordlessly follow him away from the bar and into a quiet corner.

“I’m Rick, by the way. Figure by now we should swap names, right? Or should I keep callin' you 'coffee-shop girl'?"

With heat blooming beneath your cheeks, you give him your own name. When he repeats it back to you there's no denying the thrill that comes from hearing it on his lips.

"To happy coincidences and drinkin' on a school night." He clinks his bottle against yours before bringing it to his mouth.

You raise the bottle to your own lips and take a long refreshing swig, feeling Rick’s eyes on you.

"You here alone?" He asks, before hurriedly adding, "Shit, that sounded creepy. Didn't mean it like that. Just didn't want to steal you away from anyone…"

You can't help but chuckle at such an endearing display of awkwardness. "Yeah, it's just me. Don't really know what I'm doing here, if I'm honest. Seemed like a good idea at the time but now it feels a little… sad."

"I hear ya. Just came to grab a beer before I ship out for work tomorrow. Maybe we can be sad together?" He gestures towards an empty booth.

Nodding your agreement, you allow him to guide you into the booth. To your surprise he slips in beside you.

"So, what do you do?" You ask. "For work, I mean." It's been so long since you've made small talk with someone, and even longer since you've been on a date. Not that this is a date.

You might be imagining it, but you think you see a twinge of regret slip across his face before he answers. "Oh, just some government bullshit. You?"

You know it's a non-answer, but it doesn't faze you. You've always been reluctant to reveal your own career to men. Past experience has shown they tend to find it intimidating, although you can't shake the feeling that Rick might be different. It's a totally baseless feeling though, so you reply with the same answer as usual. "Transport."

"Sounds thrillin'," he teases. "Let's agree to no more work talk."

You are more than happy to oblige and the two of you fall into an easy conversation that seems to span everything and yet nothing.

Two beers later, with your wits still about you, you regretfully realise it's time to call it a night. It would be so easy to stay here, captivated by this mysterious man, but you simply cannot afford not to be at your best tomorrow.

“I really should get going. Early start tomorrow.”

“C’mon then. Lemme walk you home.”

Although you've only really known him for the last two hours, you find yourself agreeing. Rick's presence feels warm and reassuring and he's already shared so much of himself with you. By now you know he likes to golf, has a very sweet tooth despite taking his coffee black, and one day he'd love to adopt a Golden Retriever. Instinct tells you he can be trusted.

The temperature has dropped when you exit the bar, but the heat from Rick’s presence keeps you warm. He’s had you laughing all evening and your face aches from smiling so much.

By the time you reach your front door, you’ve adamantly decided that you're not yet ready to say goodbye to this handsome stranger. You’ll be heading to who knows where in the morning and there’s a very real possibility that you’ll never see Rick again.

“You umm... you wanna -”

Before you can finish the sentence, his lips cut you off with a tentative kiss. Your heart leaps at the unexpected contact, but he pulls away just as abruptly. “Sorry. Really didn't plan on doin' that. Hope I didn’t-”

But it’s your turn to interrupt, fingers clutching the soft cotton of his t-shirt as you drag him down to meet your mouth again.

Seconds later, Rick’s large body is pinning you against the door and he's kissing you again, fervently this time. His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, branding you with the heat of his touch and you let out a small moan of pleasure when his tongue sweeps over your lips.

While you have no idea what's come over you, you equally know that you don't want this to end. “Let’s go inside,” you pant, reluctantly breaking away to fish for your keys.

The weight of his gaze follows you inside and you've barely closed the door when you feel his hands slipping around your waist, drawing you back until your spine is flush against his chest, a solid wall of muscle.

His head dips down, nose grazing the side of your face and as he murmurs into your ear, the tickle of his warm breath sends heat pooling to your core. "Don't usually do this kinda thing." There's a hint of nervousness to his voice, which only makes you want him more.

"Me neither," You rasp, although you're not exactly sure which part he's referring to. Picking up strangers in bars? It feels like so much more than that. It feels inevitable. Like fate has been pushing the two of you together all day and there was only ever one way this was going to end.

When he nips at your earlobe, you're ready to combust. His hands slide beneath your shirt again, creeping up, up, up, until they reach the swell of your breasts. You arch back into his touch, feeling the hard length of him digging into your ass.

His lips travel down to the sensitive spot below your jaw, while his hands softly cup your breasts over the thin material of your bra.

"This ok?"

"Yes." It's more than ok.

Deft fingers pull the shirt over your head before spinning you around to face him. He walks you backwards until your bare skin hits the cold wall. His hands continue to explore your body, trailing a path of desire along your skin.

You reach for Rick’s shirt and tug it up, exposing the taut muscles of his stomach and chest. Your mouth waters at the sight of the V- shaped dip leading into the waistband of his jeans. He helps you remove his shirt in one swift movement, allowing you a few seconds to savour the sight, before his lips are on you again.

Rick kisses you like he’s starving, but despite the desperate way he touches you, there's a gentleness behind every movement. He doesn't rush you. In fact, you're the one reaching for his belt buckle, impatient to get your hands on him, to feel him inside you.

Through an unspoken agreement, you both shed the remainder of your clothes, until it's just the two of you, skin on skin, as he crowds you against the wall.

Your hands rise to the nape of his neck, fingers running through the soft lengths of his hair as you pull him back down to kiss you again. God, you hope he never stops kissing you.

His own hand slides down to your thigh and he hooks your leg around his hip. You can feel the press of him, hard against your stomach and you don't want to wait another moment. A needy whimper escapes your lips.

"Rick."

He pulls back to study you, lust-blown hazel eyes meeting your own. "You sure, darlin'?"

"I'm sure."

Dropping your leg for a second, he retrieves a condom from somewhere amongst the discarded clothes and rolls it over his thick, hard length.

Resuming his position, broad hands cup your ass and Rick lifts you up with ease. Supported by his strong arms and the wall at your back, you wrap your legs around his slim hips and feel the insistent push of him against your centre. With a steady grip he brings you back down again gently and a wild sound tears from your mouth as you feel your walls stretch to accommodate him.

"Oh God, Rick."

His head dips between your breasts, covering your skin with wet kisses. Unable to decide whether his name is a prayer or a curse, you pant it repeatedly as he drives into you again and again and again.

If this is what happens when you stray from routine, perhaps you should do it more often.

Tuesday August 6th

It barely feels like five minutes have passed since you tumbled into bed, when the angry buzz of your alarm has you blearily batting your eyes open. You attempt to roll over and grab your phone, but a heavy, muscled arm anchors you beneath the sheets.

Right.

You're not alone.

You manage to squirm out of Rick’s grip and after fumbling with the keypad, you successfully silence the alarm. Allowing yourself a brief moment to appraise your situation and the naked man beside you, a rush of heat spreads throughout your body as memories of the previous evening come crashing back to you.

You slip out of bed, ignoring the pang of embarrassment that comes from finding yourself equally as naked beneath the sheets. No small part of you wishes you could fall back into Rick's arms, but as tempting as a second round might be, if you don’t get a move on, you’re going to be late for work.

After pulling on a tank top and underwear, you proceed to sweep the house for his discarded clothes, a miniature trail of evidence pointing to your late-night activities.

When you return to the bedroom, Rick hasn’t yet stirred. He looks so peaceful, fast asleep in your bed, that you are almost reluctant to wake him. You try shaking him gently at first, but to no avail. Time for a change of tactic. “Wake up,” you grouse, dropping the articles on the bed beside him. “Rick." You raise your voice a little louder. "You need to leave. I have to get to work.”

His eyes finally flutter open and he looks around, momentarily confused. “Shit, what time is it?”

“Time for you to leave,” you emphasise, careful to hide the disappointment in your voice. Last night was a dream, but in the cold light of day you're starting to realise that's all it's likely to ever be. A brief reprieve from your normal life, courtesy of a strange chance of fate.

He glances at his watch. “Oh fuck. I really need to get goin’.”

Resisting the temptation to sneak a final glance at his marvellous body, you avert your gaze as he pulls back the sheets and dresses quickly.

“I wish I could offer you breakfast, but I can't be late today."

“Maybe some other time,” Rick concedes with a wry smile.

“Maybe.” Despite your resolve, a small smile tugs at your own lips.

He allows you to hustle him out of the apartment without complaint and a deep inner voice asks why you feel so disappointed. What exactly are you expecting? A kiss goodbye? You've already decided this doesn't mean anything.

"Guess I'll see you around."

Will you ever see him again? You almost consider asking for his number, but he hasn’t asked for yours. Watching him walk away, you decide that perhaps you will just leave it up to fate.

When you finally make it through security and onto the tarmac, supply pack haphazardly slung over one shoulder, you're panting heavily. Even this early in the morning, the August sun is unrelenting. Your eyes immediately land on a young man dressed in a tac vest and pants that look two sizes too big for his slight body. The anxious expression on his face relaxes slightly when he spots you approaching.

"You're here." The relief is evident in his voice and you can't help but wonder if they've stuck you with a rookie on your first day.

“Sorry. Got lost.” The lie slips out effortlessly. He doesn’t need to know the reason for your tardiness. "You the co-pilot?"

"Rogers," he introduces himself with a salute.

"No need for that, we're not in the army anymore."

He nods in confirmation, handing you what appears to be the flight plan. You can only hope he's a steady hand in the cockpit.

You scan the details, already familiar with the basics. “Have the assets arrived yet?"

He shakes his head.

"OK, let's begin pre-flight checks.” You lead the way onto the helicopter without waiting to check if he’s following. After dumping your gear, you sink into the pilot seat and slip on your headset.

“She’s a beauty,” you remark, glancing around the cockpit.

Rogers agrees, but there’s still a nervousness to his movements. You want to ask him if everything is ok, when a truck pulls into view. A host of armed guards jump down onto the tarmac and usher out a brightly clad group of individuals.

"These the assets?" You cock an eyebrow at Rogers, but he's practically shaking with fear at the sight of your potential passengers.

You don't know why. You're pretty sure at least one of them is wearing lycra.

"Th- that's the Suicide Squad," Rogers stammers.

"The what-now?"

Admittedly, the job spec had been brief, but considering you were personally headhunted for the position and it paid a hell of a lot better than your military position, you were only too happy to make the transition over to the private sector. The way you see it, this was a rare opportunity that you would have been stupid to turn down.

But no one had said anything about a 'suicide squad'.

"Haven't you heard of them?" Rogers sounds shocked. "Harley Quinn? Captain Boomerang?"

You shake your head and return to the flight plans, hoping they might shed further light on your co-pilot's comments.

"Transportation of eight high-risk prisoners, including three meta-humans…"

Ok. So maybe you can understand why Rogers might be so nervous. Perhaps you should have read the fine print.

The guards begin to hustle the prisoners on board and you can’t help but crane your neck to get a closer look at your passengers. “What the hell is that thing?” You whisper to Rogers, horrified.

“I heard it’s a weasel. It killed 27 children...”

“Are they OK back there unattended?" You realise you're starting to sound as worried as your co-pilot. "They’re not gonna try hijacking the helo are they?”

Before Rogers can answer, a second truck pulls up. This time only two men emerge. One with startlingly long blonde hair. The other...

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“Who-who’s that?” You stammer, even though the two of you are already pretty damn well acquainted.

“That’s Colonel Flag.”

The universe is surely conspiring against you right now. As if bumping into him all day yesterday wasn’t enough, he’s here about to board your helo, of all places. When he cited his work as government shit, he really wasn’t kidding. You sink further into the seat and pray for the ground to swallow you up. Maybe he won’t recognise you with your cap pulled low and your tac suit on. Maybe if you keep your attention ahead of you and don’t speak…

Thoroughly distracted by Rick’s presence on board the chopper, you fly through the pre-flight checks relying solely on Rogers' surprising competence. You can hear Rick moving around back there, talking to the others. His voice is loud, commanding.

With your pulse ringing in your ears, you wait anxiously for the signal to begin take off. Maybe he won’t even come up here. Maybe he doesn’t have to know. But when you sense movement behind you, your traitorous body turns around, only to find yourself staring straight at Rick.

He starts to introduce himself, but it doesn't take long for the penny to drop, those familiar hazel eyes quickly landing on your face. You have to give the man credit, he barely falters, but there’s still no hiding the shock in his expression. "Uhh, take off whenever you're ready. We're good to go."

"No problem, Colonel." You're amazed your own voice sounds so steady. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Rick disappears into the back of the chopper and despite your racing mind, you successfully complete the take off.

The next couple of hours pass by uneventfully, except for the few times Rick pops his head upfront to check on your progress. He seems distracted, and not by you. Remembering the phone call you overheard in the elevator, you wonder if that could have anything to do with it. Pushing the worry to the back of your mind, you concentrate on the task at hand. Getting the chopper to Corto Maltese. There’ll be time for you to talk about this later.

When you finally reach your destination, hovering over the small island, you call to Rick through the headset. “Colonel, we’ve arrived.”

You can hear him instructing the rest of his team to jump and for a moment you think that he’s gone too, but then his voice calls over the radio and your heart skips a beat.

“See you on the other side.”

[ash-imagines]

not to be tacky but like.. hcs for guzma proposing to s/o?? especially the "planning" (i.e panic) he does beforehand please it'd be so cute

He's an absolute nervous wreck, that's for sure. He wants to do something thoughtful and out of the box, but he doesn't want it to be underwhelming... Something unique and personal, but not disappointing...

First of all, there's just no way he can afford a fancy engagement ring. He lives in an old, dilapidated, abandoned mansion in Po Town. He considers just having some grunts steal one for him but that's a little too risky. Interestingly, he might choose to propose with a soothe bell. Because its soothing chime can strengthen the bond between a trainer and their Pokémon, its symbolic of the strong bond he feels for you. Or maybe he'll just find a pearl to propose with...

You probably aren't expecting a huge, fancy wedding, and you're right. It's going to be fairly casual, but that doesn't mean it won't be memorable. Plumeria is a life saver, and she manages to snag some beautiful decorations at a discount. A seriously talented grunt whips up an enormous cake with intricately made fondant flowers on each tier. Somehow, without even being invited, Kukui and Burnet show up with berry juice. Everyone comes together to support you and Guzma, and it's so touching.

The ceremony itself takes place on the beach around sunset. The sky is a gorgeous shade of orange and there's a gentle breeze. Offerings are made to the guardian deities. Berries are traditional, but a Luxury Ball (or a Cherish Ball in extremely rare cases) is given as well, as a way to ask for their blessings.

After the ceremony, you best believe there will be dancing! A particularly musically inclined grunt has offered to DJ, so don't be shy!

There was really no reason for Guzma to be so nervous. Even though Team Skull has technically disbanded, everyone still has each other's backs, and you've been part of the pack ever since you and Guzma hooked up. Y'all are a family, even if you've all abandoned your nefarious ways. So of course all the grunts were gonna pitch in and make this moment as special as they could. And all that hard work paid off for sure, especially since it really solidified just how much y'all care about one another. And now that you and Guzma have tied the knot, you can be the power couple that never lets up!

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter I: Let’s Party!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: strong language, use of alcoholic beverages, drunken antics, ?? jackson wang is throwing a party?? (jk he’s not aljsks. changbin is tho), nothing filthy in this chapter, unfortunately :/ just plot build up

Chapter word count: 2.6k words

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

Haven University; school of the elite. From the academically inclined to the artistically blessed, only those who were gifted with such talents are accepted to augment their potential. The perfect school for the sensational.

...And like every other school with young hormonal adults, also the perfect school for a good fuck.

“Another outstanding submission, Y/n! Keep up the great work!”

You smiled at your photography teacher, Mr. Kim, bowing humbly as you thanked him. You were proud. Praise after praise for your picture taking skills only heightened your motivation to be the best even more. Photography has always been your passion. Ever since you were given your very first camera at the age of 5 years old- which, in retrospect, was actually a toy camera, you already knew that it is something you would want to pursue.

In the middle of your teacher’s praises with another student, the bell rang. “Looks like we ran out of time, folks. Great job again, Seungmin. Everyone, class dismissed,” he said, jokingly using shooing gestures. “Now hurry up and get out of my face, you delinquents. Lunch time awaits. Go replenish your life force.”

You began gathering your belongings, slinging your precious DSLR camera around your neck. “Outstanding submission, young photographer.” You heard someone say. You turned around to see Seungmin grinning at you.

You snort out a laugh. “Thanks. Great job to you too, Seungmo.” Seungmin was about to respond when your instructor’s voice interrupted.

“Oh. Except Y/n. Please stay a little bit after class, for me, dear.” You and Seungmin shared a glance, nodding for him to go ahead without you. He pats your shoulder, bidding you goodbye. You continued packing your things into your bag. As the rest of the students left the room, you walked towards Mr. Kim’s desk, waiting for his word. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hello, sir. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah yes. I wanted to ask you this,” your instructor paused, sitting on his desk. “How much do you love photography?”

You paused, wanting to convey the exact feelings you wanted to express. “Photography is an escape for me,” you answered. “It’s another form of art that helps people convey the emotions and stories people want to tell. Some people express their emotions through music and lyrics, others through paintings, and others through dance. For me, personally, I’m not all that good in any of those aspects, sir. That is why I work so hard when it comes to this class, and in photography in general.” You unconsciously caressed the camera slung around your neck. “And to me, the stories behind a photo is a lot more intimate in a way that I just can’t explain.”

“Because...this is the only way for you to express yourself? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” You nodded. Mr. Kim hummed in thought. “I see.” He stood up and walked to you, placing his warm hands on your shoulder. “I admire you, kid.”

“You...admire me?” You were confused. The teacher admires his student? Isn’t it usually the other way around?

“Oh yeah. Is that hard to believe?”

“Uhm...Kinda, yeah.”

Mr. Kim laughed mirthfully, amused by your bewilderment and doubt. “Well, believe it. You have spunk. Soul. Your work impart emotions I have never seen from my other students before. You’re passionate about what you do, and I like that. You take digital arts very seriously.”

You laughed awkwardly, the amount of praise your instructor was giving you made you happy. “I do, sir. Kinda a shame not a lot of people even consider it an art.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sitting down on his desk. “Which is why I wanted to give you an impromptu assignment. I want to assign you a story telling type of assignment; to write a story using your photography skills, if that makes sense.”

“Hm, yes? I think I get a jist of what you're trying to tell me.”

“Excellent. I just want to use this to monitor your skills, Y/n. You’re a very talented person, the most talented I’ve ever had even. I just want to see how much of that potential you really have so I can help you blossom it into something greater.”

“Oh,” you draw out, somewhat understanding why he picked you. “I see, sir. I’m honored that you’ve picked me.”

“You should,” he joked. “Now, I want you to photograph the following- write or type this down before you forget.” You hastily whipped out your phone from your pocket. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. I want you to capture the perfect scenes. Give me something that gives you joy. Something that makes you emotional, good or bad or even both, if you can. Something you fear, and finally, something that you love unconditionally. These are all supposed to be different photos, by the way. Got that?”

You finished typing a few seconds later. “And...got it.”

“Awesome!” he smiled. “Just know that I’ll be giving you only 3 months to complete the assignment. I hope that this isn’t too much to ask of you, but I’m sure someone as ambitious as you doesn’t mind, right?”

“Nope, sir! Everything will be a-okay!”

“I’m glad! Now move along and get to the canteen already. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am.”

You giggled, making your way to the door. “Thank you sir! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Oh, finally! There you are! We were starving waiting for you!” You rolled your eyes at Minho, who immediately decided to pick on you the second you entered his field of sight.

“Shut up, you could’ve eaten without me you know?”

“Nah, cause what kind of friends would we be if you ate without you?”

“You just want to steal some of my food, don’t you?”

Minho scoffed and went quiet, prompting Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin to laugh. “Caught you red-handed, Hyung,” Hyunjin teased, which backfired immediately causing him to chant an apology after Minho gave him a look.

“So why did you take so long, Y/n?” Jeongin asked.

“Oh, Mr. Kim wanted to give me an extra assignment.”

“Extra assignment?” Seungmin questioned. “What for?”

You shrugged, sitting down. “Uh, to test me? I’m not sure but I honestly think that there’s something more behind it. Not in like a bad way, just to clarify. I mean, he did acknowledge that I’m the best in his class after all.”

Seungmin snorted. “I just know you meant that unironically.” You jokingly blew a raspberry at him.

“Of course Y/n is the best!” Hyunjin stuck his chin up. “Let’s be honest, anyone could be the best if they use me as their model!”

“Hey, Hyunjin? You wanna eat this straw?” Minho threatened, making Hyunjin shut up.

“No...?”

“Good. Get off your high horse, prince charming.”

The three of you laughed. “Poor Hyunjin,” Jeongin sympathized sardonically.

“Hyunjin please stick to dancing and uh- not dying,” you said. “I still need you alive for some more upcoming projects.”

“For me too,” said Seungmin. “I might start using you as my model as well.”

Hyunjin fake cried, “Y’all just like me for my looks!”

“I mean, there’s no denying you are incredibly handsome but we like your personality too, Hyunie, don’t worry,” you cheered him up, then turned to Jeongin. “What about you, Yeni? How’re you holding up now that Lix is gone?”

Jeongin gasped. “I miss him! I’m so lonely now, especially when I have theatre! I feel so awkward now that girls swarm up to me instead- and you know I’m a shy boy!”

“Hey! At least you’re more popular now!” Minho laughed.

“Well, now we have no choice but to remember Felix in our hearts,” Seungmin replied.

“I’m not fucking dead. I just switched majors!” the four of you turned to see Felix pouting at you all.

“Well, you’re dead to me!” Jeongin wailed. “Going from a theatre major to a dance major. How could you?!”

Felix chuckled, sitting down between Seungmin and Jeongin. “I’m sorry! You know I’ll still see you though, buddy!”

“Why don’t you just switch to a regular vocal major next semester, Yeni?” you asked.

“Nah. I originally did want to go for just regular vocal studies but, you know, even if I did accidently sign up for the class, I ended up finding something else I wanna do. Plus, theatre is surprisingly fun! You know, find something new that’ll change your life every day.”

“Yup! Especially since they often collab with the dance majors so we get to see each other a lot!” Hyunjin beamed while Minho nodded in acknowledgment.

“Oh, speaking of dancing,” Minho chimed in. “You guys wanna go to a party I was invited to?”

“No,” Seungmin immediately responded.

“No, not you, I knew you would say no. I meant the others.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I was invited to the same party you’re talking about, so yeah.”

“Can’t,” Felix replied. “I’m still getting used to my new major and I still have a few assignments to catch up on.”

Jeongin hummed in agreement. “Same here. We have a play coming up soon and I’m a lead this time, so I gotta stay home to rehearse as much as I can.”

Minho made a stank face, “Aww. Lame.” He turned to you. “What about you, Y/n? You down?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Really?” All 5 boys looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah. I might find some inspiration while I’m there. Besides you know I’ll just be leeching off of Hyunie and Min the whole time.”

Minho and Hyunjin high-fived, cheering a quiet ‘yes!’ Hyunjin giggled. “This is great cause we might need a designated back up driver in case I get drunk and Minho-hyung abandons me!”

“Now that you’ve said that, I might seriously consider that,” Minho grinned. “We’ll pick you up at 8 sharp! Y/n!”

‘8:53pm’ You wanted to go home already.

The boys, true to their word, picked you up at 8:00pm. With little to no traffic- and the fact that Hyunjin actually got ready early so that they wouldn’t be an hour late- the three of you made it to the party around 8:20pm. Even then there were already a lot of people there.

“What the fuck. This house is huge!” you gawked. “Can you even consider this a house still?!”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I’d say this more of a mansion at this point.” All you do mutter a constant chant of ‘what the fuck. what the fuck’ over and over again. “Who’s house is this again, Minho?”

“Changbin’s, remember? Jisung said they’re celebrating in his house,” Minho replied.

“Well this Changbin dude is LOADED,” you mused. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the elegance of the house, which most likely costs more than your entire tuition. “I’d hate to be the one who has to clean up the place.” The boys lead you to the kitchen, helping you avoid the crowd cause, in your words, ‘ew yucky people’. There, they brought you to two men wearing all black, who were hanging out on the island counter. Their names were Changbin- the handsome rich boy who owns the house, the lucky bastard- and Chan- another handsome rich boy with the cutest laugh and dimples, both really sweet and hilarious men, whom you very much enjoyed talking to...

That was the last memory you had before it went downhill.

It took 33 minutes and 4 soju bottles later for Hyunjin to get drunk. Chan and Changbin were back at the booth, manning the song list for the night while Minho was somewhere with some guy in a red beanie doing absolutely nothing, so here you were: stuck babysitting your best friend. “Y/n! Y/n!”

You sighed hearing Hyunjin drunkenly call you. Again. “Yes, Hyunie?”

“I looove you~!” he sang while giving you finger hearts, rocking on the balls of his feet. You sighed again, rubbing your temple.

“Yeah yeah. I know. Love you too.”

“Y/n!” Your left eye twitched. You whipped out your phone from your bra to text Minho.

Me: You bitch.

Help me

Minho ho ho 😼: Hi

No

You glowered. You quickly glanced up to check Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the carpeted floor in front of you, counting his luscious black hair.

Me: He’s-he’s counting his hair… Please get him. It’s like watching a bird repeatedly hitting glass

Minho ho ho 😼: At least he’s not making any trouble now, is he?

He fucking jinxed it. Hyunjin stood up with a shocked look on his face. “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?”

“It’s my favorite song!” he cheered, starting to dance along. You have to admit, even when he’s drunk, he’s still an exceptional dancer. Texting Minho a quick ‘fuck you’. You put your phone back between your breasts to go back to monitoring him, preparing yourself in case you needed to tackle Hyunjin down.

“Heyyy, Y/n!” Minho suddenly draped his arm around your shoulder. Taking your eyes off of Hyunjin, you glared at your lazy, backstabbing friend, shoving his arm off of you.

“Asshole, you’re ten minutes late.”

“Oh I'm not here for Hyunjin. I need your phone.” You look at him audaciously.

“What the- why?”

“My-uh-phone died?” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes briefly flickered towards Minho’s friend, who, in return, looked down bashfully, red faced. Hm. Weird. You rolled your eyes, nonchalantly reaching into your shirt to get your phone. Minho didn’t even hide his grimace. He cringed, “It’s warm...and wet?”

“Shut up. I’m sweating, okay? And I don’t have any pockets on me.”

Minho nodded, going back to his little friend. Before you could scold him, you heard Hyunjin screaming. You turned around to find him running to the front door. Oh shit. You started pushing people to run after him

You groaned in disgust, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here. You pushed your way out of the crowd, cringing at the feeling of touching numerous dirty, unknown people. Where in the world is the fucking exit? In the midst of the sweaty, drunken bodies, your eyes met. It was like time had stopped; no one within the vicinity seemed to not have mattered anymore. With just a smirk and a flirty wink from the chubby-cheeked boy in the red beanie, you knew…

...you just had to fuck him

Hold on, Y/n. Your friend might get fucking ran over! You snapped out of it. With a flustered face, you continued shoving your way through, wrangling Minho on the way. “Come on, fucker. You’re helping me. Let’s go,” you sneered while Minho complained.

After 30 minutes of chasing and wrestling, the drunken beast was tamed. The night ended with Minho driving you all home instead while you and Hyunjin cuddled in the backseat against your will. Minho took great pleasure in knowing that he wasn’t Hyunjin’s cuddle buddy, laughing every time you tried unlatching yourself from him, which made the long haired boy cry. Your sadistic friend dropped you home first, apologizing for not being much of a help tonight. “To make it up to you, I have something for you,” he suspiciously said, wiggling his eyebrows, before giving your phone back and driving off.

You relaxed on your bed, happy that you were rid of those dirty, smelly clothes. You grabbed your phone to text Minho. Assuming that the messages app was left on your conversation with him, you started texting, not paying any mind to the fact that the chat was blank.

Me: Thanks for taking me I guess. I didn’t get anything other than unwanted kisses from Hyunjin ew but it’s aight.

Speaking of aight…Do you think you can give me your friend’s number? 👁👁 The one with the red beanie.

Cause sir, not to be nsfw or anything but he is one fine ass man that I’d like to fuck

Almost immediately, the three bubbles appeared. You were surprised that Minho would reply that fast, thinking we was still on the road with Hyunjin. The reply you got, however, made your heart drop.

Min’s hoe: uh...hi? 👋🏻

this is minho’s “fine ass friend with the red beanie” 👁👁

Shitshitshitshit SHIT

[NEXT CHAPTER]

A/n: Sorry no smut in this chapter just plot build up :(( (which i’m a sucker for) and a lot of dialogue. But Trust me. Everything written in this chapter will fall into place with the future chapters. And who know, next chapter might be 🥵

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hi! If you're doing promts, how about one where gender expectations where inversed: the laws of heritage still follow the male line, but the social expectation is that the sect is under the wife control, and with a strong expectation that there must be a wife - single heirs whose parent die are pushed very strongly for mariage.

“The elders have started talking,” Nie Mingjue said as Lan Xichen poured tea for him. His hands were folded in front of him, fingers tight and knuckles white even though he was in the safety of the Cloud Recesses – Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he’d seen him at anything less than tense since his father was murdered.

It was a good reason to be tense.

“What about?” he asked, since his uncle seemed to already understand and was nodding gravely.

“My marriage,” Nie Mingjue explained. He didn’t drink the tea, which was rude but, again, understandable. “You know my father ruled as sect leader after the death of my mother, and Nie Huaisang’s as well – the wife rules the home, everyone knows that. But all my father’s wives died, and in the end they let him run the sect himself for a while so as to let us grow up untroubled.”

“Unusual, but not unheard of,” Lan Qiren interjected. “I understand he had finally resigned himself to searching for another wife now that you were old enough.”

“He was. And now I’m bereaved of a father, and my heir is my brother – I have the three years of mourning for a father’s death, but then I’ll need to get married.”

Lan Xichen had always thought it was a bit of a strange rule: the idea of growing up in a sect, learning all about it, and then having to hand over control to some stranger from another place, seemed truly absurd. But it had been established as a measure of safety, to prevent war, and it had mostly done it – no one wanted to risk a fight with someone who might in the next generation rule their sect for them – so he supposed his ancestors knew what they were on about.

“Okay,” he said, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of it. Nie Mingjue was only three years older than he was, and while fifteen had once seemed ages away, he knew he wouldn’t be ready for marriage in so short a time. At least Nie Mingjue had three more years before he had to actually do it. “Congratulations?”

Lan Qiren lifted his eyes to the ceiling while Nie Mingjue snorted in pained amusement. “The elders want to set up the engagement now, even if the marriage won’t be finalized until then. And I’m not marrying one of Wen Ruohan’s sons!”

“Certainly not,” Lan Qiren agreed. “It would be inappropriate, given your questions about your father’s death.”

It wasn’t questions, it was outright accusations, but the Lan sect had to keep their neutrality.

Lan Xichen looked between the two of them, the discomfort growing stronger as he realized that Nie Mingjue had come all this way to try to find – to find an alternative. Wen Xu was married already to some distant branch cousin (no one approved, but Wen Ruohan didn’t care), but Wen Chao was the only one who was Lan Xichen’s age, and other than Jiang Yanli, who was already engaged herself, he couldn’t think of any other options that were old enough. 

But…while he liked Nie Mingjue very much, they were good friends, Lan Xichen definitely didn’t want to marry him.

Nie Mingjue must have noticed his expression because he shook his head. “You’re the heir,” he reminded Lan Xichen. “You have to stay here to prepare your sect for your wife.”

“Right,” Lan Xichen said, relief flooding him. And then he realized – “Wait. You mean –”

“Wangji is too young to marry now,” Lan Qiren said simply. “But not in three years.”

“I want to ask him first,” Nie Mingjue said before Lan Xichen could say any more. “If he doesn’t agree, I’ll think of something else. But the Lan sect’s support would be very useful right now, so I had to try.”

Lan Xichen thought of the stars in his brother’s eyes every time he looked at Nie Mingjue whenever he came to visit, that old crush of his from childhood not having fully faded away.

“I think,” he said dryly, “that we’ll be able to work something out.”

-

“You’ll need to marry, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, releasing Lan Xichen from his embrace.

Lan Xichen was still clinging onto Lan Wangji, unbelievably happy in retrospect that his brother had married out before the Wen sect had attacked – he didn’t want to think about what stubborn Lan Wangji would have done, whether he would have insisted on staying and fighting…what they might have done to him.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Marriage,” Nie Mingjue said. “The word we’ve gotten from Gusu is that your father is in a coma, not dead, but the doctors don’t see much hope, and that means you’ll be sect leader next. With the Lan sect weakened by the Wen attack, it is critical for you to establish an alliance with another sect to help bolster you.”

“In addition to the support you will have from us,” Lan Wangji added, and Nie Mingjue nodded in agreement. They were a good match, it turned out – Lan Wangji’s steadiness was a good balance to Nie Mingjue’s hot temper, they were both highly principled and zealous in their pursuit of justice and righteousness, and it turned out that they were both…passionate.

Very passionate.

Lan Xichen hadn’t needed to know that about his brother.

“Right,” he said, and exhaled. He hadn’t even had time to rest, but there wasn’t time to rest – not with the Wen sect acting the way it was. “So not Nie Huaisang, then.”

He’d toyed with the idea a little – Nie Huaisang had at least something of the right sort of views. The values of the Lan sect were careful contemplation and kindness, and if Nie Huaisang was lacking in the former then he was rich in the latter; someone more martially inclined than him would be miserable in the Cloud Recesses. Besides, that way, Lan Xichen’s children would be cousins to the Nie sect twice over.

But his brother and best friend were right: what he needed now was an alliance.

More than that: he needed to signal to the world that the Lan sect would not be trampled underneath the Wen sect – that it would continue, that it would persist in pursuing its values without hesitation, that it wouldn’t discard its ancestral ways all in favor of something more aggressive.

Marrying a Nie, however mild-tempered, would be the wrong gesture.

“I have an idea, actually,” Nie Huaiang interjected. “Not quite as good as me, of course, but possibly more to your taste.”

Lan Xichen was already running through names in his head, but no one was coming to mind – he would need to do as Nie Mingjue did and ally with a Great Sect rather than a small one, the circumstances required it, but…“Who?”

“The young mistress of the Jiang sect, Jiang Yanli,” Nie Huaisang said promptly.

“But she’s…” Lan Xichen’s voice trailed off.

“Exactly,” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled. “Her engagement was called off, and that means she’s free.”

“She’d be a good fit for you,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “I’ve met her a few times at the Discussion Conferences in Yunmeng: she’s kind and caring, thoughtful, but also insistent when she needs to be.”

“Would the Jiang sect agree? Madame Yu had always intended for her to marry into Lanling Jin, and she was most displeased when the engagement was broken –”

“She gave her husband authority to negotiate in her place, and he used it,” Lan Wangji pointed out. Do not gossip about other people’s families, he meant, and Lan Xichen nodded in acknowledgment of the well-placed chastisement. “She sees the situation as well as we: Qishan Wen against the world, Qinghe Nie against Qishan Wen, and Lanling Jin trying to play both sides...it is not a good look for them. I do not think she will refuse your suit at this time.”

Jiang Yanli, Lan Xichen thought, rolling the thought around in his mouth to savor it. She wasn’t the most beautiful, but he never cared much about that. No, more importantly, she was kind and caring, with a sweet sense of humor – and an excellent cook. All things that would fit very well in at the Cloud Recesses.

“All right,” he said. “How do we do it, given the circumstances?”

“I’ll go to Yunmeng myself,” Nie Mingjue volunteered, and glanced over to Lan Wangji for approval – Lan Wangji nodded. “I would need to anyway, to discuss the state of politics. I’ll bring your suit with me, and if Madame Yu approves, she - and the Jiang sect - will be committed to helping you regain your home.”

“Wouldn’t do to send a bride to a place without one,” Nie Huaisang chimed in, and Lan Wangji nodded again, this time to Lan Xichen.

“Okay,” Lan Xichen said, and smiled. “Let’s ask.”

-

“Honestly, I think it’ll work out very well,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who was pacing again. “Everyone supports it - no one wants the tension between the Jin sect and Nie sect to continue.”

Jiang Yanli chuckled. She was sitting next to him – he had his arm tucked around her shoulders, which they both liked – and she leaned her head against his shoulders. “A-Chen, I think he’s more concerned about his brother’s happiness.”

“Of course he is,” Lan Xichen said. “I was just saying. And anyway, it’ll work out well in that way, too – there’s nothing Nie Huaisang likes more than spending money, and, as the heir to the Jin sect, Jin Zixuan has plenty of that.”

That even got Nie Mingjue to laugh.

“He does like that, I’ll grant you,” he said, settling down next to Lan Wangji. “And underneath his façade of uselessness, he’s actually quite bright – in a contest of scheming wits, I would bet on him over every single one of those treacherous dogs in Lanling.”

“Probably better than me,” Jiang Yanli agreed, looking a bit rueful at the thought of her past engagement. “I would have let them step all over me if I thought it meant we could have some peace.”

Peace was something the Cloud Recesses – now in the process of rebuilding – had in no short supply, and Lan Xichen was pleased that he could offer his beautiful wife exactly what she most desired.

Well, except for the matter of ensuring the safety of Wei Wuxian after he had established himself as Yiling Patriarch, but Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji’s unexpected offer to have him join their sect as a concubine – an offer that Wei Wuxian had been, reportedly, thrilled to receive – had taken care of that lingering concern.

“Now there’s only A-Cheng left,” she added. “I’m amazed he didn’t get engaged ages ago.”

“Yunmeng Jiang was hurt too badly,” Lan Wangji said, and Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Who would have married him then? The Jiang sect needed to preserve its independence long enough to show that it could even properly host a wife,” he agreed. “It wasn’t like the Cloud Recesses, where the sect was intact, if scattered – he had to rebuild it almost entirely.”

“But who can he marry?” Lan Xichen asked. “If he doesn’t marry one of the Great Sects, he’s at a disadvantage to the rest of us.”

“And there are no children left,” Jiang Yanli said, frowning a little.

“That’s not quite true,” Nie Mingjue said, and shared a glance with Lan Wangji. “We sent him a suggestion a little while ago – a way for him to build ties with the Nie and Jin sects.”

“Nie and Jin?”

“I had a deputy by the name of Meng Yao,” he said. “Now going by Jin Guangyao.”

Lan Xichen brightened. “A-Yao? What a wonderful idea! Do you think he’ll agree?”

“I think Meng Yao would love to be in charge of a sect,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “He doesn’t have the training for it, of course, since he wasn’t raised inside the sect, but that’s something that can be remedied with a small expansion of the household.”

“Having a concubine must suit you very well, da-ge,” Lan Xichen teased. “Since you’re already recommending it to the rest of us.”

“Not us,” Jiang Yanli said primly, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in confirmation. “Who were you thinking?”

“Wen Qionglin – one of Dafan Wen, the branch that defected during the war,” Lan Wangji said. “Wei Ying said he helped rescue Jiang Wanyin from the Lotus Pier, so they have a connection already.”

“He has the training, but he’s toothless,” Nie Mingjue opined. “Meng Yao won’t feel threatened by him, and Jiang Wanyin…could probably stand to have two calm people by his side.”

“He could,” Jiang Yanli agreed, a little ruefully.

“It would be good for A-Yao, too,” Lan Xichen said. “I sometimes find he’s a bit better at mimicking gentleness than actually recognizing it, and having someone sweet by his side would make him feel needed…doesn’t Wen Qionglin have an older sister, though? What about her?”

“After marrying Wen Xu, she deserves to have a wife, not be one,” Nie Mingjue opined. “She’s courting a very nice girl from the Jin sect – what’s her name again?”

“Luo Qingyang,” Lan Wangji said, and he looked unusually smug about it. “Also called Mianmian.”

Wait, that Mianmian? The one Lan Wangji had been so irrationally annoyed at for flirting with Wei Wuxian all those years ago?

So much was explained.

“That’ll be good,” he said instead of commenting. “That way we’ll all be one family. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“Until the family reunions, anyway,” Nie Mingjue grumbled.

“Don’t you mean Discussion Conferences?” Jiang Yanli said, lips twitching.

“Oh no…”

[msmarvelwrites]

Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader 

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee! 

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me! 

Thank you forever to @cutie1365​ for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work! 

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving. 

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams. 

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled. 

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you. 

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made. 

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer. 

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking. 

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.” 

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her. 

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust. 

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour. 

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda. 

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows. 

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter. 

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him. 

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that. 

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…” 

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her. 

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging. 

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot. 

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it. 

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy. 

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.” 

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips. 

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished. 

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you. 

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.” 

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun. 

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble. 

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?” 

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort. 

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party. 

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room. 

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins. 

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said. 

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music. 

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration. 

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter. 

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay. 

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put. 

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor. 

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over. 

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.” 

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable. 

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable. 

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and- 

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. 

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted. 

“No?” 

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip. 

“So its my fault?” You gawked. 

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…” 

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak. 

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds… 

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.” 

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music. 

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little. 

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass. 

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath. 

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room. 

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in. 

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.” 

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you. 

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words. 

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses. 

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.” 

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest. 

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart. 

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk. 

________________________________________________________________

@kalesrebellion​

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@sassy-pelican

@mollygetssherlockcoffee​

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[nurseanddex]

20.“i’m not playing truth or dare.” for zimbits (or jack & shitty if you want platonic) if you're still taking prompts!

Send me a prompt and a pairing from one of these lists if you feel so inclined, just please specify which list it’s from! :) 

Prompt: “I’m not playing truth or dare.”

Spending the night before Class Day on the roof of Faber was a time honored SMH tradition, and Jack and Shitty’s senior year was no different. The Haus gang gathered around a small bonfire, swapping stories of favorite memories, drinking beers, and eating chocolate marshmallow pie in lieu of making smores. Lardo had put her foot down about cooking over open flame after an incident involving a ‘flaming ball of death’ the year prior that everyone resolutely refused to tell Bitty about. He was going to miss his boys, miss this easy camaraderie. The Haus wasn’t going to be the same without Jack and Shitty. He shivered as a particularly chilly gust of wind breezed by.

“Brr. I didn’t know it’d be s-so-”

Bitty trailed off in surprise as a big, warm jacket settled itself on his shoulders.

“Oh! Thanks, Jack!” he blushed, looking up to see the identity of his mysterious benefactor.

“No problem,”Jack said, sitting down next to him with a gentle smile on his face.

“Aaaaaaaaaand noooooooooooooow,” Holster yelled, in his announcer voice. “My favorite part of Pre-Graduation SMH Bonfire and Bonding Night!”

“Secret Time!” Ransom cheered.

“Which means we get to ask you whatever we want and you have to answer everything,” Holster grinned, wickedly. Bitty could feel Jack tense up next to him.

“No secret time this year, boys. I don’t want a repeat of Johnson’s existential crisis,” Lardo said. “I say we go Truth or Dare.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare,” Jack whispered. His face was turning paler by the second. Lardo shot him a look Bitty couldn’t quit read before pulling out her phone and tapping out a text. He wasn’t trying to snoop, but his proximity to Jack enabled him to see the notification when it popped up on his screen.

Secret Time has no outs. Truth or Dare you can at least pick dare if they ask something you don’t want to answer.

“Yeah, Lardo, what’s the deal with that switch? We always do Secret Time.” Lardo shot Shitty a look that could only be described as murderous.

“You do not get a vote,” she hissed, “You did not have to deal with 170 pounds of sobbing goalie having an existential crisis using your shoulder as a tissue for over! an! hour!”

“On second thought, Truth or Dare sounds fun!” Jack chimed in. All further rumblings of dissent from Ransom, Holster, and Shitty were almost instantly silenced by Lardo’s patented Look. Lardo insisted they play by stating what the question and the dare would be before they had to choose. A few rounds passed by relatively uneventfully, but some time around when they were starting to shift from tipsy to drunk, the questions started to change from playful to personal to a bit too personal.

“Jack next!” Holster exclaimed, shifting around to settle with his head resting in Ransom’s lap. Bitty noticed that Jack had become more relaxed as the game wore on, but his jaw still clenched every time it was his turn.

“I gotta know, what the hell happened with you and Parson? How did you go from being the best friends junior hockey had ever seen to practically hating each other’s guts?” The roof fell silent, save for the crackling of their little fire, and Lardo leveled Holster with the most soul-withering glare in her arsenal.

“Or your dare is that you have to do a fancy lift with Bitty,” he added belatedly, shrinking under the force of Lardo’s glare. Jack stood up, his muscles tensed like he was a second away from running for it.

“Dare it is, then,” Jack said, stretching out a hand to pull Bitty up. Bitty took it, feeling a blush start to color his cheeks once more. His silly crush on Jack had been growing more and more ever since he realized how he felt that day they were baking together and this kind of thing definitely wasn’t helping him get over it.

“Jack, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do, Bittle. It’s do the dare or answer the question,” Jack replied, gruffly. They moved a few steps away from the circle they’d been sitting in, that way if one of them fell, there would at least be no chance of falling in the fire.

“Euh, I don’t actually know how to do this,” Jack quietly admitted, once they were out of earshot. Bitty was surprised to see a pink tinge coloring his cheeks. Jack Zimmermann, blushing! Bestill his little gay heart.

“Lucky for you, I spent the majority of my formative years in a figure skating rink. I may have picked up a trick or two,” he drawled, letting his accent come out a bit thicker than he normally did outside of Georgia. Surprisingly, Jack’s cheeks flushed darker in response to what his Moomaw referred to as ‘laying on the Southern charm.’

“Holster’s still trying to make a play out of those jumps you can do.”

“Well, those jumps aren’t going to help us with a lift,” Bitty laughed. “Here’s what you need to do.”

Bitty ended up teaching him a fairly simple lift, Jack’s big hands firm on his waist, holding him high enough so that Bitty could place his hands on Jack’s shoulder for additional support. The firelight illuminated Jack’s face in a soft glow, and there was something in his baby blue eyes that Bitty didn’t quite recognize.

Jack could feel something in his heart shift as he stared up at Bitty in the low light, absolutely shimmering against a blanket of a thousand stars, somehow shining brighter than every star in the sky. He filed that feeling away, he’d deal with whatever it was another day.

[sunriseverse]

Prompt: “Your optimism is sometimes very frustrating, Newton. You run the very fine line between delusion and optimism, and have completely unrealistic expectations of success..."

what’s this? me filling a prompt and a square on my pacific rim bingo card (”fluff) in one go? yes.

-

"You ready for tonight?"

Hermann looks up from his work; fixing his gaze on Newton, who's paused in his own work, and is leaning over the (thankfully clean) stainless-steel table, his arms crossed. "Tonight?" Hermann asks, frowning slightly, and trying to remember what Newton could possibly be on about.

"Tonight!" Newton repeats, grinning and waggling his brows. "Date night, dude!" He bounces on his heels—excitable as ever.

Hermann hums. He does remember, now that Newton mentions it—Newton asked him two weeks back, and they agreed on tonight. It had slipped his mind, but now that Newton reminds him, he finds a slight smile rising to his face. "You still haven't told me what to be ready for," he points out.

"It's a surprise," Newton says. "Just—dress kinda casual. Get out of your old man clothes for once, relax a bit."

Hermann rolls his eyes. "It's called dressing professionally, which you'd know, if you were inclined to wear anything that doesn't look like you never grew out of mistakenly thinking you were "cool" in secondary school," he retorts, drily.

The biologist raises a hand; clutching at his chest. "You wound me," he says, gasping theatrically. "I'll have you know that I was, in fact, cool in high school. I was, like, the coolest."

Hermann raises a brow.

Newton scowls. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"I can hear you thinking it though," Newton huffs. "Anyway, my point is—be ready. I'll pick you up at seven. It's gonna be great—I'm gonna absolutely rock your world." He tosses Hermann a wink.

Hermann makes a face of mock horror. "You're a horrid little man," he sniffs. Still, though, he finds himself excited and wondering what Newton has in store—will it be something romantic? A nice dinner, perhaps? No—Newton said casual dress.

So absorbed does he become that, when the program he's been running gives a little chime to inform him that it's finished saving his work, he lets out an only half-muffled startled yelp and nearly tips out of his chair.

Fortunately, he does catch himself just in time. Unfortunately, Newton has just come out of his own state of deep focus, in his case on the report that's due the next day that he should have started the previous week, and catches sight of Hermann's almost-fall, and lets out an inelegant snort.

"Shut up," Hermann says, blushing furiously, and tries to hide his face without making it obvious what he's doing.

-

Newton knocks on his door at seven o'clock sharp, much to Hermann's surprise. He's wearing a clean grey button-up and a pair of unripped jeans, and has foregone his absurdly skinny tie, and looks quite nice. "Hey!" he says, and thrusts a banquette at Hermann.

"Oh, dear," Hermann says, faintly, eyes watering. "Pardon—pardon me—!" He sneezes once, doubling over, and then again, and then a third time, and backs away.

"Hermann?" Newton says; alarmed, and takes a step towards him.

Hermann holds a hand up. "Don't," he croaks. Newton heeds his words, thankfully; and, after a few moments, Hermann is able to stand up properly, clutching his cane tightly. "Allergies," he manages, eyes no longer watering.

Newton's eyes widen. "Oh, shit," he breathes. "Ugh, sorry—fuck. Uh—here, I'll just..." he looks around, presumably for a wastebin, and, finding none, sighs. "I'll just toss it on the way there, I guess." He gives a forlorn sigh. "No holding your hand for me until then, I guess."

Hermann gives a grimace. "Probably for the best."

They make the trip to what turns out to be the aquarium without incident; Newton does, in fact, hold Hermann's hand after he disposes of the ill-fated flowers, and Hermann is quite pleased by that, though he'd never admit it.

"What do you mean we can't go in?" Newton asks the guard at the aquarium's main entrance. "It's Tuesday—I know for a fact that you're open until nine."

"I'm sorry, sir," the guard says. "The aquarium is not currently open to the public due to reconstruction."

Newton lets out a heavy sigh. "Fine," he says. "Sorry, Herms."

"It's alright," Hermann says; trying to hide his disappointment, "it's hardly your fault."

"There's a nice little place down the street if you want to go for a bite," Newton offers, "uh, I'll pay, obviously. And I know for a fact that it's open 'cause we passed it on the way here."

"...alright," Hermann says, "I could eat something."

The place in question is a small hole in the wall, but it's one that Hermann's been to before and rather enjoys the food. They order without incident—a bowl of dumplings for Newton, and a plate of vegetable noodles for Hermann—, and, though Hermann's a bit disappointed still, he's rather enjoying himself.

Newton, however, is not similarly satisfied; in fact, Hermann would go as far as to say that he's sulking—poking listlessly at his food, and not even trying to hold Hermann's hand beneath the table.

By the time they're done, the sun's set, and so they make their way back to the shatterdome. Newton doesn't speak much at all beyond monosyllables, though, and Hermann finds his patience waning, and his somewhat alleviated mood falling steadily.

Finally, he snaps, "Could you please just tell me what's wrong and stop acting like you lost a sack-race?"

"I'm not!" Newton retorts. "I just—ugh." He sighs. "I'm sorry, dude, I just...I thought it was going to be perfect, you know? I was going to take you to the aquarium, and then get you something at the cafe, and maybe even give you a kiss."

Hermann purses his lips. "Your optimism is sometimes very frustrating, Newton. You run the very fine line between delusion and optimism, and have completely unrealistic expectations of success..."

Newton huffs. "Yeah. Yeah, I know, I just—I wanted it to be perfect for you—"

"Let me finish," Hermann cuts in; glaring slightly, before he lets his expression soften. "Your expectations were unrealistic, and you had practically set yourself up for failure. However..." he pauses, before reaching out to take Newton's hand. "Despite the fact that your initial plan didn't work out, the food was very nice—the only thing missing was your conversation."

At that, Newton perks up. "Really?" he asks.

Hermann nods. "Really."

"Then..." Newton bites his lip. "Can I maybe try it again? 'Cause...'cause I want to."

"That could be arranged, I think," Hermann says; lips twitching slightly at the giant grin that splits across Newton's face.

"Sweet," Newton says, and squeezes his hand. "Uh—do you want to come over to my place and watch something and cuddle, maybe?"

"I'd like that," Hermann says; and follows him down the hall and into his quarters.

Once they're inside, Newton putters around to find a quilt. He does eventually find one, though, and brings it back to the couch along with his laptop, and tucks the quilt over them, getting the film started.

After ten minutes or so, Newton's hand creeps back into his, and he relaxes against Hermann, head resting on his shoulder.

"Are you even paying attention to the film?" Hermann murmurs.

"Nah. Not really," Newton whispers. "'s Jurassic Park, I've seen it lots. Plus, I'm paying attention to you. You're really nice for cuddling, dude."

"My life's purpose has been fulfilled," Hermann says drily, but curls a bit closer to the other, relishing in the warmth and comfort.

[queenofslytherin71]

Quickie

"Don't worry about it doll. Now Stark and Wilson can finally shut up about our sex life. And as for the briefing, Steve can wait till tomorrow, because tonight you're mine."

You giggled and replied, "I like the sound of that."

"Fuck..."

"Miss Y/F/N, Captain Rogers request your presence for a mission briefing on the third floor in five minutes," Friday chimed over the intercom in your room. You groaned. You have been so busy on missions lately that you hardly had time to relax or do something remotely stress free to relieve your... tension.

"Dammit Rogers."

It was no help that your boyfriend was away on a mission. So you had to do something about your pent up frustration yourself. You pulled your hand out underneath your underwear and pulled your sun dress over legs before you slipped off the bed and left your room.

The elevator dinged to a halt and you stepped out with a grumble. You weren't very hasty to get to the briefing. Deep in thought, you wondered down the hall that led to the boardroom, when you collided with something hard. You were ready to bite their head off until you saw who the bulky chest belong to. You raised your head and your heart jumped out of your chest. "Hey doll." He was smiling down at you. His blue eyes were sparkling and his hair looked damp.

"Bucky!" You squealed with delight and you happily threw your arms around him. He laughed, pulling you up and spinning you around, holding you tightly to his chest. "I missed you Buck," you muttered into his neck. The familair scent of his bodywash invaded your nostrils. He must've been in the shower moments ago. "I missed you too, beautiful."

He set you down, but his arms remained around you. "When did you get back?" You asked.

"Thirty minutes ago. I had to shower first. Couldn't come and see my girl smelling like blood and sweat," he murmurred. You raised a brow, but before you could ask Bucky spoke up. "Not my blood," he reassured. Your shoulders relaxed with relief. "Kiss me Bucky," you whispered and he complied. He cupped your face lovingly and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

His hands slipped into your hair as his lips moved over yours hungrily. The kiss was sweet yet psssionate. You moaned softly when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Next thing you know is that you're pressed against wall, running your hands all over his body as the kiss deepened.

"I... missed you so much. Missed you kissing me," you said breathlessly between kisses. Bucky stopped kissing you and placed his lips to your ear. "Is that all you missed?" His voice was dangerously low. You could feel the heat pool between your legs. His teeth grazed your earlobe and you moaned, feeling his hot breath on your neck.

"Need you so bad now Y/N. Couldn't wait to come home, so I can fuck you into oblivian." You were getting wetter and wetter by the second as he spoke. His fingers toyed with the seam of your dress, before his hand slipped underneath it. You muffled a moan by biting your lip when his metal fingers rubbed over your clothed clit.

"Bucky-" you whined. "We're still in the hallway. Steve... Oh, or Sam could walk by any minute. Let's go to your room." Bucky shook his head. "Too far." He looked around and his eyes fell on the library door. "Come on," he said briskily, pulling you along. Adreniline coarsed through your veins.

He opened the door, checked to see if it was deserted. He smirked and he motioned you inside. When you were both in the room, he locked it. Bucky turned to you and you could see the bulge in his jeans. He was primal, eyes dark with lust as he stepped closer to you, like a predator stalking his prey. In an instant Bucky picked you up, your legs entangling around his waist. The mission briefing long forgotten.

He sat down on the black leather couch near the window overlooking the green plains of the compound. With you straddled in his lap, Bucky kissed you again, much more intense than before. Your fingers tugged on his locks and he groaned into your mouth. He moved his lips down to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses. "Gonna fuck you so good. Make up for all the time we've been apart," Bucky mumbled against your skin. You threw your head back as he bit into your skin, marking you with purple marks. "Oh, Bucky..." You moaned. His hands kneaded your breasts through your dress and you involuntarily arched your back.

You started moving your hips back and forth over his erection, desperate for any kind of friction against your throbbing clit. Bucky groaned, enjoying the sensation of you grinding on him. "Shit doll," he muttered, squeezing your breasts once last time, before his hands dissapeared beneath your dress.

"You're so fucking wet doll." His fingers grazed over your clit and you moaned. "Could just slip right in..." He was teasing you and the cold touch of metal against your clit made it very difficult to think clearly. "Bucky please," you begged, still moving your soaking cunt over his jeans.

"Please what? What do you want doll?" He asked, rolling his thumb over your clit again and again. The coil in your abdomen tightened, threathening to snap. You whined, but you knew he'd want to hear you say it. "Bucky I need you to fuck me, please Buck. Need your thick cock inside me," you panted. He growled and tore your underwear from your body, throwing the torn material to the floor.

"You drive me crazy Y/N." You unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans. He lifted his hips and you pulled his jeans to his knees. His cock stood proudly against his abs, leaking precum. You gripped his shaft and he groaned, placing his hands on your hips, bunching your dress up to expose your pussy. "Are you gonna ride me sweetheart?" He inclined.

You nodded and hovered your dripping pussy above his length before sinking down. You threw your head back and moaned out his name as his cock delved into your wet heat inch for inch. Bucky let out a carnal moan. "You feel so good inside me James," you breathed out when he was fully inside you, stretching your walls deliciously.

"Fuck baby, so warm and tight," he groaned blissfilly. You held on to his shoulders and lifted yourself up, until only the tip of his cock remained inside you. You sank back down, your juices running down your thighs. Bucky gripped your hips harder. He controlled your movements as you moved up and down his lenght.

"Shit Y/N, you take my cock so well doll." Your soft moans were driving him crazy, but he wanted more, he wanted you to scream. Your eyes were closed as you moved your hips in a circular motion, your eyes flew open when Bucky lifted his hips and fucked into you. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted with each hard thrust of his hips.

You bounced up and down his cock, your juices creating a erotic sound as his cock drove deeper inside of you. You could feel your orgasm nearing. "Oh fuck you close doll? Pussy is squeezing the shit out of my cock. Fuck I'm gonna come." Bucky's lewd language made you moan.

"Buck I'm gonna come," you screamed laying your head on his shoulder, your body too tired as Bucky continued thrusting up into you with an animalistic force. "Bucky!" You screamed as you reached your peak. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, pleasure coursing throughout your body as his cock drove into you over and over again, making you ride out your orgasm.

"Shit I'm coming, fuck- Fuck!" Bucky's hips stuttered into you and stilled as he came, hard. He groaned, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing cock as his seed spilled inside of you.

After a long moment of heavy panting and hearts beating rapidly, the both of you finally calmed down from your highs. "I needed that," you muttered into his neck. He chuckled, carding his fingers through your hair. "Me too."

"What do you say to us spending the rest of the day in bed? No missions, no training, no meet-"

"Oh fuck! The briefing! I forgot about the briefing. Steve's going to kill me," you stated. Bucky snickered.

"Miss Y/F/N, I was said to give you a message from Captain Rogers and I quote..."

"Y/N once you and Bucky's done 'fondue-ing' I'd like to start the briefing. And next time go to your room where the whole team can't hear the both of you." Your cheeks turned deep red.