#this was a good warmup. i want to be clear i don’t really do requests unless i really want to

[kewpiekills]

i thought about clyde the catboy for .2 seconds and got so hard my nose began to bleed can i please draw my sona flirting with him

i’ll do you one better

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[shoichee]

is it alright if i request hcs for midorima introducing his shy g/n s/o to the team (maybe they’re his lucky item for the day? i cant see his tsundere self introducing them volutarily) and midorima is being soft with them cause they’re a bit scared of the team??

I HEAR YA LOUD AND CLEAR, A VERY CUTE REQUEST, i gotchu fam <3

@knb-kreations

Midorima x shy!Reader

[Headcanons]

as a reserved individual himself, Midorima is not one to broadcast his relationship out to everyone, and this sentiment is only stronger when he knows that you’re even more introverted than himself

even so, after dating for a substantial amount of time, he wants to include you into his life and potential dream career in basketball… and that would entail bringing you to meet his inner circle of his friends teammates

the only problem (and the reason why he’s held off in introducing you to them for so long) is that his teammates can be quite rowdy (and have some… unique quirks? but Midorima isn’t really one to talk)… especially that Takao Kazunari

still, he never felt like he had to introduce you to them right away… when the right opportunity will present himself, he’ll do it

besides, you don’t seem in any rush to meet them anytime soon from the way you’d rather prefer spending your time with Midorima alone

well, until one day, the Oha Asa predictions presented that opportunity:

“Today, Cancers are in a unique situation from the rest! It seems like their luck can be quite stagnant or off the charts depending if they have their lucky item for today! Ready to hear it, everyone?! Today’s lucky item for Cancers isn’t a standard one! It may differ for every Cancer, and that’s the beauty of fate!~ Cancers should bring along with them something that they cherish the most! But be careful…! Cancers should also take care in making sure nothing happens to their lucky item today!”

Midorima, in hearing the prediction from his TV, flinches out of surprise, mostly because the first thing that came to his mind after hearing “most cherished” was you

but alas, he’s going to follow fate down to a T, with no exceptions

when he approaches you early morning, he tells you with the straightest face:

“(y/n)-san, according to the Oha Asa, you’re my lucky item today.”

“U-U-Uh… um, is… is that a pick-up line?”

“Hmph! As if I would stoop myself down to Takao’s level. The Oha Asa predicted it so, and I will not take any chances today.”

“Um… what do I have to do then?”

Midorima softens his gaze at you and mumbles, “Nothing really. Just stay by my side for the entirety of today.”

thankfully, today was a Saturday, so at least school wouldn’t be an obstacle between the two of you being separated

so here you are, tagging along with Midorima to do some mundane trips around the neighborhood

Midorima please… this is literally just a date but he refuses to acknowledge it as such

he still had basketball practice that evening though, so by then, it was time for him to go to the gym to start warmups

… but wait, that would mean he’d have to bring you there too…

“Ahem… you…” Midorima clears his throat. “Do you mind just sitting on the benches inside? There’s no need for you to make conversation if you do not wish to do so.”

“O-Of course!” you exclaim. “I… I wanna see you play too… even if it’s just practice, I-I hope your teammates won’t mind?”

“Well I’ll make sure they’ll mind their own business.”

“Would I really bring good luck to you by just sitting and watching you, Shintarou…? It’s hard to believe that the Oha Asa said that I’m… supposedly lucky?”

“The Oha Asa is never wrong,” he says confidently. “Besides, I don’t see it anything but an advantage when I know you’ll be here to provide support in your own way. After all, you do make the most out of your capabilities and do your best, nanodayo…”

Midorima makes sure to enter the gym first, with you tailing behind and taking shelter behind his broad back

even despite that, nothing could prepare you for the chaos inside

a basketball FLEW to you and nearly killed you if it wasn’t for the fact that Midorima easily stopped the ball in its projection

“Fools! Are you ever careful in shooting?!”

“Ah shut it! Not everyone’s like you, Midorima!”

“If you have that much energy complaining, then you have the energy to start warming up, rookie.”

Midorima sighs in response to their comments, but you’re behind him peeking out a bit and then ducking behind his back again when you saw how intimidating they were

“Wh-Whoa!! Shin-chan brought someone over?!”

“What?”

“Where?!”

“The brat brought someone over?!”

Takao immediately skips over to him and you, curiously peeking to see who Midorima, the ever-so serious and hardworking dude, brought to practice; it’s very rare that he’d bring his own Teiko ex-teammates along, let alone anyone unrelated to basketball

“Oh! Aren’t you (y/n)-chan?” Takao asks, tilting his head with a childish wonder

“O-Oh, um…” you reply, darting your eyes to Midorima before continuing. “It’s nice to meet you… I’ve heard a lot about you from Shintarou, Takao-kun.”

Midorima turns red and denies it to his breath as he hounds on Takao as an outlet for his embarrassment

Miyaji and Ōtsubo are peeved but lowkey curious about why Midorima brought you here, so they ask… to which Midorima replies:

“(y/n)-san is my lucky item for today, nanodayo.”

“Captain, can I throw my family’s pineapples at him??”

“Shin-chan, I’d normally laugh, but did you just label a person as an object?” (to which Midorima immediately interjects, “A-Absolutely not!!”)

“Alright, you little shit, you 1st-years are really getting on my nerves right now…”

“W-W-Wait…!” you exclaim, slightly stepping out from behind Midorima’s back. “Please don’t be mad at him… I wanted to watch too…” but when everyone’s attention immediately shoots to you, you squeak and hide behind his back again

from the way you clutch onto Midorima’s shirt from behind, Midorima immediately turns around to you with a soft tone of voice

“Hey, come on now… they’re not bad people, nanodayo. You know I’ll be there by your side if anything happens, (y/n)...”

everyone’s REALLY quiet hearing how Midorima talks to you, and they’re like WTF???? WHERE DID THIS SIDE EVEN COME FROM….?

only when Takao blows a slow whistle to break the silence does everyone break into quiet snickers, ready to make fun of Midorima to death about it

as Midorima gives you a short pat on the head and turns to walk to put down his duffel, all of his teammates follow him to give him those “playful” hits and slaps on the back and arms LMAOO some may have actually knocked his spine out of his body though ngl

you’re just standing there timidly, not knowing what to exactly do next, and Miyaji notices you and approaches you

“Oy,” he says with his usual rough tone of voice. “If you really wanna watch, you can sit over there. Don’t be in the way though.” He points to the specific bench, but softens his usual Spartan-like, harsh frown just a tad bit when he sees you cowering a bit

“Sorry… uh, (l/n)-san, right? Take care of the idiot for us.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Midorima immediately stalks over to the two of you, knowing full well how… scary Miyaji can be, and Miyaji’s frown comes back

“Huh? Nothing for you to be concerned about, rookie.” Miyaji KICKS Midorima to the court to start doing shooting drills and then turns to you like nothing happened

“W-Wait, Shintarou…?”

“He’ll be fine,” he sighs, ruffling his hair. “If he does anything stupid, let one of us know, alright?”

“He’s been, um, good to me.”

and Miyaji gives a little smile for the first time as a stamp of approval, and then he goes back to practice while you lightly skip to the bench… that smile MAY have convinced you that Midorima’s team wasn’t so scary after all

“Sooooo....” Takao says, jabbing Midorima’s ribs. “Your lucky item, eh?”

irk marks appear on Midorima’s head as he prepares to strangle Takao, only to remember you were watching him

“Ahem… (y/n) is my lucky item, regardless of what day or prediction.”

“Eurghh, that’s so sappy, what the fuck—”

“Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Takao.”

the entire team = your personal bodyguards for REAL, and it’s almost scary how every single teammate uses their own “softer” side when talking to you directly like… Midorima is now kinda regretting that he introduced you to them so late? he didn’t know that his teammates would be THAT considerate to you

especially Takao… he’d say a bunch of jokes to get you to laugh but he’d know EXACTLY when to back off and let you chill out??

the upperclassmen would be very polite and soft spoken with you?? like they all have their own respective younger siblings, so they’d definitely treat you like one

Kimura always offers you to taste-test his family’s produce for free, free of charge, zilch, nada

Midorima wonders if they like you better than him (spoiler alert: of course they do)

to get under Midorima’s nerves while you aren’t around, they’d always go, “Bro, where’s your lucky item???” in referring to you LMAOOO (Takao is ESPECIALLY guilty of this)

[4stars-uswnt]

Stuck with the Best Moms [Preath x Daughter!Reader]

requested by anon: Heyy! Love your writing! Could you do one where R is Preath teen daughter? And how they are doing during quarantine?

A/N: i tried to get this done when they announced their moved to man united but oh well better late than never

“Ma! I’m bored.” You whine.

Tobin chuckles at your position on the couch, as you’re upside down, head hanging off the edge.

“What are you complaining about?” Christen calls, entering the room.

“Mom, there’s nothing to do!” You exasperate and move to sit up right. Your mom rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to you.

“(Y/N), you are 17 years old. Certainly, there’s something you can find that will entertain you.”

“But I wanna do something with you guys.” You huff. Christen and Tobin soften at that and exchange a silent conversation. During the lockdown, the two forwards had been quite busy with re-inc, leaving you to your own devices.

“Have you been feeling a little neglected, kiddo?” Tobin coos, moving to the other side of you.

Leaning your head on your ma’s shoulder, your cheeks flush. “No.” You mumble.

“(Y/N), you know you can tell us anything.” Christen takes your hands in hers.

“It’s just—— When we went into lockdown, I thought we’d finally get to spend some quality time together, but you guys have just been really busy with re-inc.” You spill.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Your mom asks, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. She knew that her and her wife’s schedules were always so busy with travel for both the national team and their respective clubs, leaving little time for all three of you to spend quality family time together.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and I know how important re-inc is to you guys.” You sigh. Because of how often either one or both of your parents were traveling, you were a very independent teenager. Therefore, you never really wanted to disturb your mothers, as you were very proud of their accomplishments both on and off the field.

“(Y/N), will you look at me?” Christen gently lifts your chin, causing you to look directly into your mom’s green orbs. “Yes, re-inc is important to us, but you are a thousand times more important to us.” She emphasizes, as Tobin nods along in agreement, rubbing your back.

“Chris is right.” Your ma adds. “And we are so sorry that we haven’t been making enough time to spend with you.”

“It’s okay.” You give your mothers a soft smile.

“We love you, (Y/N).” Christen whispers, kissing your temple. “So much.”

Tobin wraps her arms around you, pulling you in a tight hug. “How bout this?” She starts. “I’ll try and see if I can get us into Providence later today, then we can go pick up some Gilda’s on the way home, and we can watch whatever movie you want tonight.”

Your eyes widen at your ma’s suggestion, as you nod your head excitedly. Although you were already getting call ups from the national youth team and scholarship offers from many D1 schools, you were always eager to get some touches on the field, and it didn’t hurt that two of the best forwards in the world were your parents.

“Alright then. Why don’t you get changed, while I make a call to Mark, and then we’ll walk over there.” Before Tobin could even finish, you were already rushing to your room, leaving your moms to chuckle at your enthusiasm.

—————

Upon arriving to the field, you immediately pull out a ball and start juggling. Before beginning their own warmup, Christen and Tobin stop to watch their daughter, their hearts bursting with pride for the young woman they’ve raised.

The three of you spend almost two hours at the training center. Tobin and Christen put you through a couple of drills and competitions and then all three of you play a little keep away.

“Did you just meg me?!” Tobin gasps, chasing after you.

“Don’t hurt me!” You scream, giggling, as you run away from your ma, who eventually catches up to you.

You pass the ball to Christen, before Tobin tackles you to the ground, tickling your sides.

“Stop! Stop! You win!” You pant, as you try to catch your breath, admitting defeat.

“That nutmeg wasn’t very nice, kiddo.” Tobin playfully scolds.

“You were the one who taught me that!” You tease your mother, who throws her head back with a laugh.

“Alright you two.” Christen approaches with an ear-splitting grin across her face. “Let’s go get some food.” She helps the two of you up, as you pack up the balls and head over to Gilda’s.

—————

Entering the apartment, takeout in hand, you place the food on the counter, ready to dig in.

“Ah, ah ah.” Christen grabs your wrist, stopping you from opening the container. “You go shower. We’ll dish out the food and set the table.”

“But—” You protest.

“Go! You stink.” Your mom insists, sticking her tongue out at you. Pouting, you reluctantly head to your bathroom.

Once you’ve cleansed yourself off and changed into a re-inc crewneck and a pair of bike shorts, you reenter the kitchen, smiling at the sight in front of you. Tobin was finishing setting the table, whistling along to the soft hum folklore in the background, while Christen was bringing the plates of food the counter, humming to the music. You wanted to cherish these small moments with your parents, not only because of how rare they were, but also because you would be heading off to college soon.

“Kiddo!” Tobin beams, noticing your presence. “C’mon let’s eat.”

Taking your seat at the counter, you dish out everyone’s food. A couple of bites in, you let out a moan of satisfaction.

“Ugh. This is delicious.” You shove another mouthful of pasta into your mouth.

Both of your mothers share a light-hearted chuckle. “I take it you like it, love?” Christen smirks, as you nod enthusiastically, your mouth too full of food to respond.

“So, kid, anymore offers?” Tobin casually brings up, receiving a warning glare from her wife. College had been a delicate topic the past couple of months, as you were having a difficult time choosing a school that met your needs both athletically and academically, causing you a great deal of stress.

You gulp down your food. “Ummm. Yeah. I got some calls from Duke, Portland, Cal, and Washington. And USC, Stanford, UCLA, and UNC called again, wanting me to meet the rest of the team.” You mutter, fidgeting with your hands.

Tobin bounces in her seat like an excited child, going to ask you more questions. But before she can speak, Christen shoots her another glare, effectively silencing her.

“That’s exciting, dear. You excited for the Premier League to start?” Your mother smiles, before changing the subject, knowing you didn’t particularly like talking about college. Christen herself was not particularly fond of the subject either, not ready for her baby to leave her. Although, you wouldn’t be that far, considering you’d most likely be called up to the national team pretty soon.

As dinner progresses, you and your mothers catch up, discussing recent events, soccer, and even a little gossip. Tobin eventually does coax the college conversation out of you, resulting in your moms having a mini argument over Stanford versus UNC.

As you finish up dinner and clear the table, Tobin starts making some popcorn for your movie night.

“What do you wanna watch, love? It’s your choice.” Christen asks, turning on the TV and grabbing a couple of blankets.

“Can we watch Clueless?” You give her a cheeky grin, knowing your mom didn’t particularly like the chick flick.

“Of course.” Christen sighs, playfully rolling her eyes, as she kisses your forehead.

“What’re we watching?” Tobin plops down next to, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“Clueless.” You grin, as your ma throws her head back, groaning.

“Again?”

“You did say it was my choice.” You sing.

“I guess I did say that.” Tobin grumbles, snuggling into your side, Christen doing the same, so you’re sandwiched between the two women.

“Good, because it’s starting so shh.” You stuff your mouth with a handful of popcorn.

—————

Towards the end of the movie, you find your eyes slowly drooping. You move to lay down across your moms, your head in Christen’s lap, your feet across Tobin’s.

“You tired, sweetie?” Christen runs her hand through your hair.

“A little.” You mumble.

“Yeah, you played pretty hard today, kiddo.” Tobin massages your calfs.

Turning around, you look up at your parents. “Can we do something tomorrow?” You sheepishly ask. “I mean, like it doesn’t have to be as time consuming as what we did today, but maybe a game or just like sitting down for a cup of coffee.” You elaborate.

The two older women feel their hearts melt, wanting nothing more than to spend time with their daughter.

“Of course, (Y/N/N).” Tobin squeeze your leg.

“We would love that.” Christen adds, placing a kiss to your hair.

“Awesome.” You beam and turn back to face the television.

As the credits start to roll, you stretch.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed.” You yawn.

“Alright, good night, kiddo.”

“Good night, baby.”

Getting up from the couch, you give Tobin a hug and kiss Christen’s cheek. “Thanks for today, moms. I had a great day.”

“See, it’s pretty awesome being stuck inside with your parents, eh?” Tobin smirks.

“Uh, I wouldn’t go that far.” You call back to her, biting back a smile, as you make your way to your bedroom.

Although being stuck in lockdown was extremely boring, you had to admit that you had the best moms, and yeah, it was pretty awesome.

[t0wnspersonb]

Love and Gains (Bokuto Koutarou x Reader)

Word Count: 2,657

Summary: After dealing with an intense breakup you find yourself in the gym in hopes of distracting you from your heartbreak. You end up running into an interesting character, and after the brief interaction you find yourself attending his volleyball game. But when you run into your ex once more, a certain owl headed player decides to help you out of the uncomfortable situation.

Warnings: FLUFF, making out, bad language, cheating, angst, Bokuto being a perfect angel

~~~

I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had fun writing it! I love Bokuto so much it’s absolutely ridiculous. Hopefully I did our boy some justice! I apologize if the writing is shit though lmao. I’m sorry I haven’t been updating more, I’ve just been busy with a broken foot and work now smh. I’ll probably start opening up requests again soon but I will let you know when I do! Anyway I hope you guys had a wonderful 4th! Please enjoy!🤗🤗🤗💕💕💕

~~~

You grumbled angrily to yourself as you walked out of the locker room. Today wasn’t your day, and all you could think about was blowing off some steam.

 There weren’t that many people in the gym right now considering the time, so you easily found an empty treadmill, planning on doing a quick run as a warmup.

 This is what you needed, the burning in your legs as you ran was gladly welcomed, it distracted you from the burning that rested in your heart.

 You had gone to surprise your boyfriend at his dorm and had caught him cheating on you. 

 The image of him and that girl flashed in your mind, causing you to grit your teeth tightly, your fists clenched tightly together, and your legs started to carry you faster on the treadmill.

 You had done your crying a couple of hours earlier. Heart break wasn’t easy, the devastation that you felt was soul-crushing, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had cheated because it was something that you had done. 

 Maybe you weren’t spending enough time with him, maybe you weren’t satisfying his needs, maybe you were too clingy, too annoying, too emotional; for him to handle.

 You couldn’t help but think that it was all your fault that he cheated. 

 If you had just chosen the same college as him… then maybe he wouldn’t have cheated.

 No.

 You shook your head. You were done with these thoughts. You weren’t sad anymore, you weren’t blaming yourself anymore, you were angry now. You were fucking pissed now.

 How dare he. 

 He was the scum beneath your shoes, the rotten garbage at the very bottom of the trashcan and… and… and, fuck why did he do this to you?

 You felt tears sting at your eyes. You guys were together for three years, you never would have guessed that he would do that.

 That he would rip your heart out and stomp all over it. 

 You wondered if he was trying to get a hold of you, you had turned off your phone, wanting to hide away from the world.

 Boisterous laughter distracted you from your thoughts, you looked up to see two males stretching and doing light warmups.

 “Hey hey hey! Tsum-Tsum I’m going to beat you at reps today!” one of the males declared loudly.

 You looked on curiously, his hair reminded you of an owl. How strange.

 The other male smirked at him, getting up from the floor. “We’ll see Bokkun. We also have to do legs today.”

 You couldn’t help but notice that they were incredibly attractive, tall and muscular. But that was the last thing you fucking needed.

 No more boys, no more relationships, you were done. 

 After you had finished your warmup on the treadmill you started fishing out the headphones in your pocket. You headed over to the stairs next, you were going to drown yourself in workouts tonight, you needed the distraction.

 After finally finishing your exercises on the machines, you went over to the punching bags. Carefully wrapping your hands, you stared down at the red bag full of sand, and then started beating the shit out of it.

 This was the steam that you needed to blow off. But after a few moments, something caught your eye out of your peripheral. The owl-haired guy that you had noticed earlier was on the stairs and… oh. You couldn’t help but notice how nice his butt was.

 But then you started to notice how nice his entire body was. His back was strong and muscular, the muscles in his legs rippling with each step and…

 What were you doing? 

 You shook your head at the thoughts and started focusing more on your punches. That’s right. You weren’t going to get involved with another boy, you were going to focus on yourself and on school.

 Fuck boys.

 Fuck your ex.

 Your ex, your nostrils flared in anger and your punches became more intense; you couldn’t help picturing his stupid face as you punched the bag.

 “Wow your punches are really intense!” a voice said behind you. You yelped and suddenly the punching bag was thrown back into you, causing you to stumble back and fly into the chest of the voice behind you.

 It felt like you hit a brick wall. Warm, rough hands grabbed your bare shoulders steadying you as you regained your footing.

 You looked up and saw the owl-haired male staring down at you with a wide grin. You felt your face heat up and you stumbled out of his arms, stuttering apologizes as you put space between the two of you.

 He was so much bigger than you, you couldn’t help but to feel incredibly small as he stared down at you.

 “Umm. Did you want to use the punching bag or…” you trailed off awkwardly.

 “Oh! No not at all! I just saw you going crazy and I had to come over and compliment you.” he grinned widely, giving you a thumbs up. 

 You felt your face burning in embarrassment at his praise. “Oh umm -”

 “My name is Bokuto! Bokuto Koutarou! But you knew that already, didn’t you?” 

 Your brows furrowed in confusion, what was he talking about? He was a complete stranger to you, a hot stranger, but a stranger no less.

 Before you could say anything else his friend walked over to him. 

 “Oi Bokkun, we have to get going, Coach changed the practice tomorrow it’s earlier.” His eyes slid over to you, but he didn’t say anything else.

 “See you around punches!” Bokuto waved goodbye as they took off.

 You blinked after them.

 What?

 ****

 It had been several days since the incident at the gym, and your breakup with your boyfriend.

 Right now your best friend was dragging you to a volleyball match, much to your distaste. 

 She was a big volleyball fan, it wasn’t that you didn’t like the sport, but it was because your ex was a volleyball player.

 “You can’t let that asshole ruin the sport for you! There are so many other hot guys that play! Like the team we’re going to go see!” She chided you as you guys went to find your seats. 

 You rolled your eyes at her, “I don’t care, I’m not planning on dating anyone else right now.” 

 “You can’t - oh my god! There they are!” she said excitedly grabbing your arm and pointing towards the floor.

 You looked over at the team, and then gawked. Familiar gray hair stuck out, his broad back sporting the number 12 with his name clear across.

 Bokuto Koutarou. 

 What were the fucking odds?

 “You’re kidding me,” you said under your breath, of course you would be attracted to yet another volleyball player.

 “Shhh! It’s starting!” your friend shushed you. The game started, and honestly you were completely surprised.

 They were incredible, all of them, and Bokuto… holy shit. Bokuto was on another level, the raw talent and strength left you in awe, and he looked like he was having fun, a lot of fun.

 The entire game you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, and when they had won, your friend rushed you out of the gym in hopes of meeting up with them.

 However, a detour to the bathroom left you standing out against the wall as you waited for her. You lazily flipped through your phone, completely unaware of the tall figure approaching you.

 “Y/n-chan.”

 Your blood ran cold, your eyes shot up to stare back at the man that broke your heart. 

 “What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, heart racing in your chest as you stared up at his face. 

 “Me and some teammates wanted to scope out the competition, we play MSBY in a couple of weeks. What are you doing here?” he took a step closer to you.

 “Why does it matter?” you asked shortly, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes flickered for a way to escape.

 “Don’t be like that, I’ve missed you. I know you miss me too.” he said, resting his hand near your head, he leaned in closer to you. “Come on, what we had was good. We were good together, let’s get back together.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he leaned in closer.

 Anger and fear swelled into your being and you shoved him away, moving yourself away from the wall and putting distance between the two of you.

 “You cheated on me. You did that, you broke our relationship. I don’t miss you. I don’t want to be with you. You treated me like shit.” you stated angrily, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, but you bit them back. 

 He stared down at you with an unreadable expression and then it turned amused. “I’m the best thing you’ve ever had, will ever have. You’ve always been so ungrateful; you barely would put out for me. Of course, I would cheat on you, you weren’t satisfying my needs, you fucking prude. No one is ever going to date you.” he sneered and grabbed your arm, squeezing it painfully.

 “I’m already dating someone.” You blurted out, yanking your arm out of his grasp. 

 “Oh yeah who?” he rolled his eyes.

 Fuck. Why did you say that? Why did you lie like that? But then you noticed a familiar person out of the corner of your eye heading your way. You turned and all but threw yourself into his arms.

 Bokuto easily caught you, his strong arms wrapping around your figure tightly as you clung to his broad shoulders.

 “Please play along for a moment.” You whispered against his ear.

 “Punches!?” he exclaimed, but never pushed you away.

 “Kou-kun!” you cooed loudly, finally releasing your grip on him, you turned to look at your ex who was staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

 “I’m dating Bokuto. You know, the Wing Spiker from the MSBY Black Jackals.” You stated proudly, gently resting your hand against his left pectoral and - holy shit it was like touching thick steel. 

 It was then that you became entirely aware of his large hand resting on the small of your back. Heat burned you through your shirt, but it was comforting, safe, reassuring. 

 “You’re fucking lying.” your ex scoffed, but you could see the nervousness shifting through his eyes as he looked between the two of you.

 “I’m not. We met a couple days ago at the gym and we hit it off.” You said simply, well it wasn’t a complete lie.

 “Her punches were killer and I noticed her nice butt right away.” Bokuto threw in, carefully pulling you into his side tighter.

 You ignored his statement and the rising blush that wanted to coat your cheeks, he was just playing along with you right? He didn’t mean that at all.

 “I don’t believe you, Y/n-chan. I need more proof.” your ex said smugly.

 You gritted your teeth in anger and peered up at the tall volleyball player that was staring down at you with curiosity and worry.

 “I’m so sorry. Please hang on just a bit longer.” You mumbled softly and then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your height and kissed him.

 A surprised noise escaped Bokuto’s lips, but he kissed you back immediately, carefully grabbing your jaw and fitting your mouth against his better.

 His lips were warm and damp as they moved against yours urgently, his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled your body flush against his. The hands that were gripping his shirt traveled up against his strong chest and across his broad shoulders until your fingers threaded through the back of his hair. The hair at the back of his neck was damp from sweat, but still incredibly soft.

 You lost yourself in this kiss. No one has ever kissed you this way before. It was perfect, there were so many mixed emotions being felt in this moment.

 “Whatever.” you heard your ex mumble and the shuffling of feet. 

 You should stop kissing right? You should pull away and apologize profusely right?

 The kiss didn’t stop, if anything… it got more heated. 

 Bokuto dragged his tongue across your lower lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it immediately. A pleased noise escaping your mouth as your tongues swirled together. 

 The grip that Bokuto had on your body tightened at the noise, and his tongue battled against yours harder. 

 His smell, his taste, the way he felt pressed up against you… you couldn’t think about anything else other than this moment.

 How could a complete stranger make you feel so good? 

 A stranger.

 That’s right. You didn’t know this guy, not really anyway, and - oh - you reluctantly pulled away, you guys were in public, you guys were making out in public.

 Bokuto wasn’t done though, when you pulled away, he immediately tried to follow; attempting to capture your lips once again in another kiss.

 It wasn’t until you heard the loud throat clearing that you guys moved apart. His expression was dazed with lust as he stared down at you with gold eyes. 

 You were still pressed close to his body, his arms never leaving you, even after you made eye contact with your friend who was staring at you in amusement. 

 Your face burned red as you gently pressed your forehead against his thick chest. But when you had realized what you just did, you leaped out of his arms, eyes wide in embarrassment.

 “Bokuto-san I’m so sorry!” you apologized bowing. “That was my ex and he -”

 He held his hand up, stopping your explanation. His face was red slightly, his hair mused from your fingers. But his eyes were wide and bright. “What a way to greet someone, punches!”

 His boisterous laughter eased the worry that was creeping into your being. 

 “It’s fate that we’re meeting again! Listen punches, I was going to ask for your number at the gym before Tsum-Tsum pulled me away. But after a kiss like that I definitely want to take you out on a date!” he grinned widely, fishing out his phone and handing it to you.

 You blinked at him in surprise and then nodded slowly. 

 “Yeah… that… that sounds good. I’d like that.” you said, putting your number into his phone, a soft blush coating your cheeks.

 “Hey, hey, hey!” he cheered loudly, his arms up in the air in triumph. “I got the pretty girl’s number! Oh… um,” he scratched his cheek sheepishly, “what’s your name?”

 You blinked at him, you made out with the poor guy and he didn’t even know your name yet. “I’m so sorry I should’ve told you earlier… it’s Y/n.”

 “Y/n.” Bokuto repeated and then grinned widely. “I like it! I have to get going punches! I’ll text you later tonight! I’ll be at the gym later too if you want to meet up!” 

 When the tall player was out of your sight a large smile began to stretch across your lips, your friend screeching at you about what had happened was a sight to see to the people walking past you.

 Maybe you weren’t going to swear boys off after all, or at least, Bokuto would be the exception.

 ****

 “Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto called out angrily.

 “What is it Bokkun?” the setter looked at him in confusion, where was this anger coming from?

 “This guy sucks!” he said bluntly, pointing across the net to the other team, but his finger was pointing at the one guy he didn’t want to see ever.

 Your ex.

 It had been several weeks since that second meeting with Bokuto. You guys were dating now, and it was everything you could ever dream of.

 “I’m going to crush him for hurting my Y/n!” he declared heatedly.

 Your ex went home crying that day needless to say.

[herewithmeharry]

Worthwhile

Request: Hi love! Could you please write something where you have met Harry in the past (maybe 2013) and now you see each other again somewhere?? That would be amazing 🥺

Part 2

July 2013

The hotel gym was still as she pulled open the door after swiping her room card. She hadn’t expected anyone to be there, the clock on the wall indicating that it was ten minutes past midnight. She felt a surge of excitement knowing she had the room to herself and made her way towards one of the few racks of weights. After a full day of driving, she had a surprising amount of energy to burn before she could even think about going to bed. She placed her headphones over her ears, hitting shuffle on her workout playlist and beginning to stretch. With the music on full volume, she focused on counting her reps, mouthing along to the lyrics in between sets.

As she moved onto a mat on the floor, she didn’t notice him enter the room. Harry had a preference for working out late at night, finding that gyms were usually far less crowded or only occupied by business men, if at all busy. His gaze fell upon her, noticing her steady breathing and the beads of sweat running from her forehead. He headed to one of the treadmills in the corner of the room for a warmup, trying not to make his staring too obvious. The last thing he wanted was to be the guy in the gym that made her want to leave. Beginning to jog, Harry smiled to himself as he heard one of his songs coming from her side of the room. She still hadn’t seemed to acknowledge his presence.

She finished up her floor circuit, reaching for the towel she had borrowed when coming in and wiped the sweat off of her face. She took a deep breath before standing up and adjusting the waistband of her leggings, tossing the towel on the floor next to her water bottle. Shimmying along to her music, she turned to face the wall of mirrors overlooking the room. She caught Harry’s eye in the reflection, pausing momentarily as the reality of the situation set in. He offered her a smile in the mirror and she returned it shyly. His hair was held out of his face by a thin headband, black hoody covering his torso. She suddenly became aware of the song playing in her headphones and looked around for her phone, finding it in the floor pile of her belongings, lowering the volume and quickly skipping ahead to the next song. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

She glanced at the clock once more, realizing she had been there for an hour and deciding to call it quits for the night, stopping her music. She picked up the water bottle that she had emptied half way through her workout and sauntered to the water cooler. The treadmill beeped indicating the end of Harry’s warmup and he stepped off, debating whether or not to approach her. As she filled her water bottle, he mustered up the courage needed to talk to her and walked on over.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to turn down your music just because of me.” He spoke, immediately regretting his choice of opening. She turned towards him, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. He reached past her to grab a paper cup from the dispenser and fill it with water as she twisted the top back onto her bottle.

“Oh no! No, it’s fine. I just thought I was alone. Didn’t think anyone else would be here.” She admitted, sharing a reassuring smile that made Harry grin.

“It is quite late to be training, huh?” He recognized, soft chuckles leaving both their lips.

“Yeah, I just had so much energy that I needed to burn before trying to go to bed.” She explained and Harry nodded in agreement.

“What brings you to Denver?” He took a sip of his water, watching as her fingers tugged on her shirt. She considered not sharing the real origin of her travels and blaming it on a family trip, but ultimately chose to be honest with him.

“You, actually. Well, your concert.” She corrected herself, eyes falling on her shoes. Harry smiled, hands fiddling with his cup.

“I hope we make your trip worthwhile.” He quipped, eliciting a laugh from her.

“I’m sure you will.” She reassured, looking back up into his eyes and smiling timidly. Silence fell upon the both of them, Harry’s hand scratching the back of his head as he tried to find a way to keep the conversation going. Something about her drew him in. “I should probably let you get back to your workout.” He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a twinge of disappointment as she spoke.

“Oh, right.” He nodded slowly, remembering why he had gone down to the gym.

“It was really nice meeting you, though.” She went to grab the rest of her things, pulling on her hair tie as she made her way towards the door.

“Could, um, could I possibly get your phone number?” Harry choked out, prompting her to turn back around. Her eyebrows were slightly creased, but her lips were turned upwards. “It’s just sometimes we have extra tickets, maybe I could upgrade your seats?” Harry had to resist the urge to slap his palm on his forehead as he spoke.

“You really don’t have to.” She promised, shifting her feet.

“It’s nothing, really.” He attempted to persuade her, hoping she would accept his excuse.

“Alright.” She bit her lip as she took a few steps back to him, taking his phone into her hands and filling out her contact information.

“I’ll text you later, then.” Harry offered once she finished and she beamed in response.

“Okay, yeah! That’d be great.” She tried not to smile too widely as she waved goodbye, hearing a soft ‘good night’ on her way out.

February 2016

“Hi.” Harry spoke softly, taking her into his arms as she crossed the threshold of his home. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes closed and breathing in his familiar scent. Her fingers played with the curls at the base of his neck and she felt his breath against her skin as he pulled her closer. They both knew what was coming. “Missed you.”

She nodded in agreement, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Her right hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“I missed you too.” She smiled sadly, trying to savor their last moments together. He pressed a kiss to her lips, fingers gripping the belt loops of her jeans. She withdrew after a few seconds, knowing she never would if she didn’t stop now. Harry let out a low breath, resting his forehead against hers momentarily.

“How was your flight?” He questioned, hand grasping hers lazily as he led her towards the kitchen.

“Long, actually. Couldn’t really sleep and I had to pee for half of it, but the woman next to me was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her up.” She participated in his small talk, taking a seat on one of the barstools at the island and watching as he grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets.

“That’s what you get for always picking the window seat.” He teased, filling the glass with water and sliding it towards her.

“You know it makes me feel less sick.” She defended, hands grasping the cold drink. He laughed at her retort and leaned against the counter top, head resting in his palms. He watched her index finger swirl around the rim of the glass, her stare fixated on the cup. He noticed that she was still wearing the ring he had gifted her on their 2nd anniversary just a few months prior. He found himself thinking that maybe there was still a chance for the both of them.

“What’d you do today?” She asked, finally looking up. Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, lips pursed.

“Not much, really. Slept in, tidied up a bit.” She bobbed her head, indicating that she had heard him. His answer to that question had been more or less the same for the past two months. She knew he’d been struggling since going on break. His life had been hectic and planned down to the minute for the past five years. Now, he was free to do what he wanted and he had no idea where to begin.

“Harry,” she broke their silence, voice shaking slightly. Harry rubbed his hands over his face when he heard her speak, pushing his hair out of his face.

“I know...” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

He knew it wasn’t fair to her. He knew she deserved a lot more than what he was capable of giving her at the moment.

“Don’t apologize, okay? I get it.” She rose from her chair, rounding the counter to stand next to him. “I think being alone right now will be really good for you.” Her eyes were glossy as she accepted the inevitability of their situation.

“I just wish I could figure this all out with you.” He admitted, keeping his eyes down. Her heart ached for him. She knew that he wasn’t happy.

“I know and I do too, but if we stay like this, if something doesn’t change, I don’t think you’re ever really gonna be happy.” Her words were soft as she let a tear roll down her cheek. “You’re lost, baby.”

Harry finally looked up, meeting her gaze. His eyes were red and he sniffed to stop his nose from running.

“I love you.” He whispered, letting her embrace him for what would most likely be the last time.   She let herself cry with him, face nuzzled against his shoulder and hands rubbing the small of his back.

“This’ll be good for you, yeah? You can try new things and decide what you want to do next and you won’t even have to worry about finding the time to call your girlfriend.” Her remark elicited a small chuckle from Harry as she wiped at his tears.

“You’re not supposed to make me laugh right now.” He pouted. His hand found hers and their fingers intertwined. They remained quiet, basking in the little time they had left together.

“I should probably go.” She said quietly, still holding Harry’s hand.

“Can I walk you out?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“I’ll be alright.” He nodded in understanding, puffy eyes closing as she pressed one last kiss to his cheek.

“Bye.” She smiled softly, fingers untangling from his as she walked away with a small wave.

August 2018

“Hun, you need a night off.” Julian remarked as he plopped down in the chair next to her desk. She rolled her eyes at her coworker’s comment, flipping through some of the paperwork on her desk.

“You know this needs to be done by Monday, right?” She reminded, getting up from her seat and moving to the filing cabinet in the corner of her office.

“You’ve been doing overtime all week, darling.” He stated matter-of-factly, playing with one of the many stray pencils littering her workspace.

“And what exactly have you been doing all week?” She teased, sitting back down.

“You know what? It’s my friend Sarah’s birthday and we’re having a little shindig for her tonight. You,” he paused, pointing the pencil at her, “should come.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated, looking at all of the work she still had to do. “I really need to finish this tonight.”

“How about this? If you come with me tonight, I will come in tomorrow and help you out with the rest of this. It’ll go twice as fast.” She considered his offer, realizing he did have a point. She had been spending three or four extra hours at work every night that week in order to meet her current deadline. She finally threw her hands up in defeat, accepting his proposal.

“Fine, but I expect you to be here by nine.” She bargained, starting to organize and put away the piles of papers covering the table in front of her.

“And I expect you to be ready by eight.” Julian countered, dropping the pencil before heading out of her office.

~

“We need to get a drink in you.” Dragging her to the crowded kitchen, Julian grabbed a red cup and filled it with the contents of multiple bottles littering the counter. She scanned the room, right hand holding onto the elbow of her opposite arm in an effort to comfort herself. She realized very quickly that she didn’t know anyone else at the party. “C’mon, drink up.”

“What did you even put in this?” She interrogated, swirling the dark mixture in her cup.

“Just trust me.” He persisted, taking a swallow of his drink as if to prove to her that it was safe to consume. She complied, taking a small sip as Julian spotted a group of friends across the room. He led her over and greeted the birthday girl with a hug before introducing his newest friend to the group.

“Happy birthday! Sorry, I feel like I’m crashing your party.” She admitted as Sarah brought her into her arms.

“Oh, nonsense! The more the merrier, as I always say.” She reassured her with a warm smile. “You look quite familiar, actually. Have we met before?”

She took a moment to really look at Sarah, her features unrecognizable to her.

“Not that I can recall.” She admitted, hoping she hadn’t completely forgotten the woman standing in front of her. Sarah simply shrugged with a giggle.

“Must be thinking of someone else.”

The group quickly fell into conversation, discussing her recent move to London for work and Sarah’s latest travels. She found herself thinking back on the times she spent traveling with Harry when she had been on break from uni, visiting a new city almost every day. Sarah’s last few months seemed to have been as fast-paced and lively as his time in the band.

Then, as if on cue, Harry entered the room. Her gaze fell on him, hair shorter than the last time she’d seem him. He was grinning as he was welcomed by other party attendees, taking the time to greet them. Like she had done when she had first arrived an hour earlier, he looked around the room. His eyes locked with hers, breath catching in his throat. She was the last person he expected to see that night. She quickly looked away, turning to Julian.

“Could you hold this for me, please?” She asked, handing him her drink. She didn’t wait for his answer before excusing herself and slipping through the crowd towards the front door. She stepped outside into the cool, late summer air and took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she had felt the need to leave when she saw him, considering their relationship had ended on a fairly good note. She had done her best over the last two years to move on, saying yes to a few dates and letting some of her friends set her up. However, she always found herself comparing potential relationships to the one she had with Harry and they never seemed to hold a candle. If she was being honest with herself, she was scared that he was always going to be the one that got away, that whoever she decided to make a life with she would only be settling for. She would keep up with him in the media, genuinely happy that he had been able to find himself after they parted ways, but it was slightly bittersweet to see such a confident version of him, knowing it stemmed from their breakup.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, urging her to turn around slowly. He was standing at the top of the steps leading to the front door, signature crooked smile stretching across his lips as he saw her.

“Hi.” She spoke softly, offering a small smile in return. He stepped down to meet her on the walkway, arms opening to embrace her. She let him wrap his arms around her like he had done so many times before, hand rubbing her back. He still smelt the same.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned as she pulled back, arms crossing in front of her chest.

“A friend invited me to come along with him.” She explained, thumb pointing towards the house as if to prove that he was inside. Harry nodded, smile never faltering.

“How long are you in town for?” She remembered that she hadn’t informed him of her move to the city and wondered why they hadn’t spoken since their split.

“I actually moved here a few months back for work.” His smile widened into a grin as he listened to her response. She tried to catch him up on the last couple of years, answering any and all questions he had as they sat on the front steps. Harry felt calmed by her familiar voice and regretted not reaching out to her earlier. They spoke of her work and then of his, the tour he had just finished up overseas and her graduation from university. She was surprised at how easy everything still was with him and recognized how ridiculous her running away earlier had been. She couldn’t tell you how long they had been sitting outside when Julian finally came looking for her.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you.” They both shifted to look at him, somewhat startled by the unknown voice. “Thought you might be ready to go.”

She quickly glanced at Harry as he pushed back his hair. She bobbed her head, forcing herself up from her seat. “Can I meet you at the car?” She was hoping he would understand that she needed another minute with Harry. Julian’s stare moved from her to Harry then back to her, slowly nodding in response.

“I’ll go grab our things.” He flashed her a smirk accompanied by a wink and retreated into the house. She rolled her eyes, chuckle leaving her lips as she turned back to Harry.

“It was really nice to see you again.” She spoke honestly, finding herself not wanting to say goodbye.

“Yeah, missed talking to you.” He admitted with a timid smile. As he glanced at his feet, she saw a glimpse of the 19-year-old boy she had met so many years ago.

“Me too.” She confirmed, brief silence falling between them. “Well, I should probably go. Gotta work tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah.” Harry took her into another hug, squeezing her frame closer. She didn’t pull back as quickly this time, enjoying being close to him again. She finally withdrew herself from his arms and took a few steps back along the walkway. “I’ll see you later?”

“I would love that.” She beamed, giving a little wave before turning away from Harry and continuing down the path.

[kimnjss]

Namjoon 106 💙

this has been in my brain since i found out joon worked out shirtless //.

106. “did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘cause if you did we’re having sex. right now.”

—

- your boyfriend lived to torture you. you were sure of it. positive. why else would he be coaxing you from your precious slumber with those delicious lips of his to go to the gym... of all places. you had been so convinced that he wanted you awake to fool around but nope, he had a different type of strenuous activity in mind.

- no doubt you’d follow this boy off a cliff, so you’re rolling out of bed upon his request. sleep walking into the bathroom to get changed. his already dressed and ready to go, doing a little warm up jog in place in the middle of the room. joon frowns when he sees your sleepy steps to your shared closet. “should i go down first? you’ll meet me there?”

- you’re nodding without fully comprehending want he’s saying. either way, joon nods granting you with a soft kiss to the lips before he’s leaving.

- taking your time with dressing, half because you’re still tired and half because you really don’t want to spend an hour inhaling other peoples sweat. no matter how many times you redid your ponytail, you were still arriving into the fitness center just as joon was jumping in the treadmill. warmups long behind him.

- joon grins when he sees you, reaching his hand to pause the machine as you’re walking up. your hand is automatically finding his bare chest, loving how he always forgone the shirt when he was working out. raising onto your toes, you press a gentle more refreshed kiss to his lips.

- “you’re sweaty already, should we stop?” there’s slight hope in your tone and he’s hitting you with one of his infamous fake laughs (you know the one). huffing dramatically as he reaches forward, finger resuming his run. “why don’t you do your fancy stretches? then i’ll help you deadlift?”

- despite the eye roll, you can’t mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “you mean yoga?” you’re moving to set your mat down, spot perfect where you can watch him as you pretend that you were flexible. it had only been a few months but... whoa. the muscles in his arms, chest, back, his abs!? you could spend hours just tracing every ridge and dip on his body... with your tongue.

- you admire the way his pecks bounce slightly as he runs while bending your body in a variation of the ever famous downward facing dog, leg extended upward parallel with your body. and you catch him looking at you, admiring the natural curves that are only highlighted by these tight workout clothes.

- he’s looking away the second he notices you, noticing him... as if he couldn’t have you with a single whisk of his hand. you’re shifting again, making sure your ass is in clear view for him as you bend forward.

- teasing him like this was fun, watching the way he’d stumble a bit because his focus was on you. how he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t looking at you when you could clearly see the bulge forming through his flimsy shorts. you had half the mind to strip out your own shorts, make this whole thing a little more interesting.

- you don’t get the chance to do any of that, though. he’s stopping his machine and hopping off. the muscles in his arms bulge as he takes greedy sips from his water bottle and you have to check if you’re drooling. a sheen layer of sweat makes his chest and shoulder shine, ready to be first in love for a taste you were.

- joon is making his way over to you, and your warrior pose collapses, turning into some wide legged forward bend that has your ass on full display. he doesn’t hesitate with the way he slaps his hand against your covered flesh. more of a ‘good game’ rather than a ‘let’s fuck here’ but you’re body doesn’t know the difference, so there’s an immediate rush on arousal pooling between your legs.

- you straighten. “should i help you deadlift?” he asks your boobs and you have half the mind to bend so you’re eye level with him. but you don’t, just nod and watch his pert bottom as he moves to get the bar for you.

- namjoon stands right behind you, chest pressed against your back as you lift the weights. he moves with you, squatting right behind you each time that you did, arms underneath yours for support. it should be innocent, he’s really just trying to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, but you can feel how hard he is pressed against your ass.

- there’s no way any of your attention is being wasted on this stupid hunk of metal.

- “forty-seven. great, you’re doing so good!” he cheers you on, taking a step backward and you’re instantly feeling cold - despite being hot and sweaty and actively moving your body. joon was gone so now you were cold. “do the last three on your own, i want to make sure your form is right.”

- you’re nodding, and quickly moving to drop down into a squat. lifting the bar off the ground as you straighten. joon’s eyes burn into you the entire time, your pulse picking up as he watched. evaluates but your workout is the farthest thing from his mind.

- if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed it. the blatant way his eyes racked over your body as he circled you - his lower lip becoming trapped between his teeth. he stops to stand behind you, hands on his hips as he waits for you to squat back down.

- but you can’t get the way he looked at you out of your head, how hot it made you. how ready for him, you were. the words are tumbling from your mouth before you have a chance to buffer. “did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘cause if you did we’re having sex. right now.”

- joon’s eyes bulge, only for a second before he’s regaining his cool. just as turned on as you were - maybe even more. he’s moving close to you, an arm easily sliding around your waist as he pulls your back into his chest.

- “yeah?” voice hushed and words mumbling into your ear. “you’d let me fuck you, right here? for everyone to see?”

- by everyone he meant the maintenance man that had ducked into the bathroom as you were entering and hasn’t come out since. either way, his words are riling you up, thoughts of actually doing it in the fitness center clouding your judgement.

- anyone could walk in, catch you with his cock in your mouth while he sat on one of the bikes. or see his fave buried between your legs, your yoga mat the only cushion needed placed in the center of the room. would he hold you up and fuck you against one of these wall mirrors? it all sounded so good and before you know it, you’re nodding.

[visionsofus]

I suggest the song "Where the Shadow Ends" by Banners for your mixtape fic. It's beautiful and melancholic, but also hopeful. It's given me a lot of inspiration for WandaVision fics lately.

Ahh thank you so much for this song!! I totally get what you mean with it being kinda sombre but also hopeful! It’s captured so perfectly in the lyrics too. Sorry it took me a while to get around to this - but better late than never ✨

Track #12: Where The Shadow Ends by BANNERS 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

synopsis: Wanda falls ill at the compound and Vision panics. Surprisingly, her illness gives them an opportunity to talk about their feelings. Wanda comes to terms with putting faith in her feelings and in Vision. 

All things considered; Wanda probably shouldn’t have gone to the gym when she did. But Steve had offered to help her with some of the new equipment the compound had ordered in and Wanda knew she pushed herself harder when faced with his superhuman training schedule.

She didn’t feel too bad at the beginning of the work out, going through the motions of warming up. She worked out most days because if she didn’t her body suffered after missions. So, she persisted even when she was tired and her muscles were sore, and apparently, even when it was pouring with rain. She’d quickly regretted her decision to go on a run despite the threatening grey sky. By the time the rain had started Wanda was too far into her run to turn back and had stubbornly refused to call anyone at the compound to come pick her up, instead walking all the way back as her wet shoes started to rub blisters into her heels. Thanks to an hour in sopping wet clothes, battling a harsh wind all the way home she’d woken up with a temperature the past two mornings.

But when she’d checked her temperature a few hours ago it seemed the fever had finally broken, and she was so restless that she didn’t hesitate to accept Steve’s invitation. A mistake she was going to pay for.

The warmup had her feeling a little woozy and lightheaded but not terrible. Things quickly went downhill as she started her usual activities. Just as she picked the dumbbells up to start on her triceps a sudden wave of dizziness hit her full force. Wanda vaguely remembered Steve calling her name as the dumbbells hit the floor with two resounding thuds and she promptly passed out.

Vision was stuck in a research spiral when he distantly heard the Compound AI say his name.

“Currently fetching recent message from Steve Rogers,” the robotic voice said from the speaker in the ceiling and Vision tilted his head as he listened. “Wanda has passed out in the gym, please prepare first aid.”

Vision didn’t give the AI the chance to repeat itself, launching himself out of his seat and phasing through the wall. He was used to quick thinking, easily able to make split second decisions based on a variety of possibilities, but this was something different. He didn’t thinkhe just moved. Within seconds he was phasing through the floors of the compound arriving in the basement with such force that his feet split the tiled floor on impact.

“What happened?” Vision asked with such fervour that he might have reprimanded himself for snapping, were he not so taken aback by the sight of Wanda’s limp body in the Captain’s arms.

“We were ten minutes into our workout and she just dropped to the floor,” Steve explained not hesitating to hand Wanda over to Vision’s waiting arms.

“She has a fever,” Vision said as he gathered Wanda up, holding her close so he could support her head against his chest. She was burning up, her breaths coming in short bursts that concerned him. How had her temperature gotten so high and why hadn’t any of them noticed her getting ill? Most of all, how had he let it slip his attention?

“You get her upstairs while I get a drip.”

They both started up the stairs, Vision trying not to jostle his unconscious cargo, too concerned to try phasing, even if the stairs were frustratingly slower. They parted ways at the ground floor as Steve hurried to the med bay and Vision continued to Wanda’s bedroom.

He kicked her door open with his foot and brought her over to the bed. As he set her down atop the navy covers, lifting her up to slip another pillow under her head, Vision wondered if it might have been better to just take her straight to the infirmary, or better yet, the hospital. But Wanda was notoriously unpredictable when it came to waking up in unfamiliar environments and had taken out a wall the last time she had passed out and woken up in the infirmary. Her own space was better, for now. Vision brushed her hair off her sweating forehead and Wanda groaned softly, shivering in her feverish state and reaching for the bed covers.

“No, no,” Vision murmured pulling Wanda’s hands away as she attempted to pull her covers up over her. She might be feeling cold, but Vision estimated her temperature was nearing 39C. While he waited for Cap to return with the drip Vision hurried to and from the kitchen and her bedroom, carrying with him a bowl of water and a cloth. Distracted, he managed to spill about a quarter of it along the hallway. He was just laying the cloth gently atop her forehead when Steve arrived in the doorway, IV equipment in hand.

“How did she get this fever?” Vision asked as Steve set down the mobile frame and hung the bag of liquid from the top. It was rare for illness to travel around the compound when so many of them were unable to fall sick, though there were far more serious conditions that could cause fever.

“She got caught in the rain on Wednesday, must have caught a cold from that,” Steve replied connecting the tubing and handing the other end to Vision as he prepared the needle. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she didn’t tell me,” Vision murmured, stoutly ignoring the little part of him that disliked Steve knowing something about her that he didn’t. He instead focused on finishing the IV, taking a little bit of tape from the first aid kit to secure the tubing to Wanda’s bare arm.

It wasn’t really a surprise that he hadn’t known of her rainy run. In the last week Vision had barely seen Wanda, something he found absurd because he lived just down the hall from the room they were currently in. And, well, the rest of the team often described them as being ‘attached at the hip’. Unfortunately, it seemed Wanda was excellent at making herself scarce when Vision tried to be near her these days. She was clearly trying to set a boundary, which Vision would understandably accept, if only he could understand what it was for. There had been no big change between them that he could identify, if anything they’d been getting closer, but it was as though she’d decided she didn’t like spending time with him anymore.

“I should have told her to go easy with the exercise,” Steve said, more to himself than anything, but Vision silently agreed.

Vision sighed quietly and perched himself next to the unconscious Wanda, removing the cloth from her head and submerging it in the basin once more. “She needs to look after herself,” he murmured, “or at least let someone else help her.” Vision avoided meeting Steve’s eyes following this admission, knowing that behind thissomeone else meant himself.

He wrung the cloth out and returned it to her scorching skin, delicately wiping at her cheeks and neck. Though she seemed more peaceful now and her breathing more regular, he was still on edge. Hopefully the fluids would start to do their job and her temperature would come down, but if this continued through the night, he’d call a doctor.

“And are you alright?” Steve asked, he’d retreated to the wall and was leaning against it now with his arms folded. “You were fairly shaken up down there.”

“Yes,” Vision replied quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly lest they wake her up before her body was ready. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “And everything is alright between you two, other than this? It’s like she runs out of the room whenever she sees you these days.”

“I do not know if everything is alright, I thought things were maybe changing between us, but then she began avoiding me,” Vision sighed, tucking Wanda’s hair back from her face. As he did so she stirred slightly, her head tilting into his touch. She mumbled something incoherent.

“She’s been through a lot. A connection like the one you two seem to have,” Steve cleared his throat, “uh this intimacy I suppose, could be scary and unfamiliar. I could be wrong, of course, I’m just speaking to what I’ve seen in the last few months.”

Vision didn’t reply and continued wiping at her forehead. He often spent more time watching than talking, he spoke when it was of value and only with Wanda did he find himself speaking freely. To have Steve identify this insight about their relationship made him realise that he wasn’t the only one monitoring the interpersonal connections of his teammates.  

When he didn’t reply Steve pushed himself off the wall and headed for the door. “She’ll probably be hungry when she wakes up, and you know what they say about chicken soup and the flu. I’ll go to the store.”

“Good idea,” Vision said absentmindedly.

He sat with Wanda quietly for another half hour, replacing the basin of water once and continuing to cool her forehead down. At one point he had to stand to put the blinds down as the late afternoon sun started to hit the side of the compound and streamed through her windows, casting them in a golden light. Otherwise, he was simply content to sit by her side for the first time in a week without her scurrying out of the room or pretending like he wasn’t here.

He rested his chin on his hand and gazed at Wanda’s shelves and the growing collection of items she’d collected on their travels to personalise her room. A snow globe from Atlanta, a framed picture of the team from their first big mission together, a newspaper clipping, one of the few that spoke kindly of her.

“Was I wrong,” he murmured to the air, “to think we were becoming something more?”

“Vis?” Came Wanda’s quiet voice and Vision was surprised to feel her fingers brushing his knee. He turned to her to see she was blinking blearily up at him.

“You’re ok,” Vision assured her instinctively, moving closer to lift the cloth from her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she muttered thickly. “Can I have some water?”  

“Just a moment.” Vision stood and sped out the room and to the kitchen where he hurriedly filled up a glass and was back at her side in seconds. She managed a soft smile when he reappeared, the first smile he’d seen in a week, which almost had him stumbling as he returned.

He offered his hand to steady her as she sat up a little and took the water from him. When she leant back once more, her eyes were on him darting about his face and he quickly schooled his expression to be free of the worry nagging his heart.

“Is there anything else you need?” Vision asked.

“No,” Wanda sighed sleepily, “just rest I think.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Vision nearly kicked himself for saying what he feared out loud, for providing such an easy opportunity to let her push him away again.

“No.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

In silent response Wanda turned her head away from him and bit her lip.

“You’re ill and tired, we shouldn’t have this conversation right now,” Vision said, aware of the fact that he was buying time for himself before she could give him the answer he feared.

“Please don’t be angry,” Wanda said and then so quietly, Vision thought he had imagined it, “it’s for the best.”

He’d been ready to stand and leave the room but at this took one of her hands in his, squeezing it in what he hoped she took as reassurance. “I am not angry at you, I could never be angry at you. I am worried.”

“But I’ve been avoiding you without explanation,” Wanda huffed raising her free hand to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Well, I suppose there is that,” Vision relented, “but please know I would never be angry at you for wanting space, I admit I was hurt but if you could explain things to me, if there’s anything I’ve done that you haven’t liked—”

Wanda laughed, or it sounded like something close to a laugh, coarse and cynical more than anything. Vision stopped mid-sentence and looked down at his hands. Distantly, he registered the sound of the front door opening and closing – Steve was back just in time.

“I should go,” Vision said sadly, standing up to leave, “Steve will bring you some soup.”

“Wait no,” Wanda said sitting up and her hands flying out for him. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear.”

He could tell she wasn’t lying and slowly let her pull him back down to the bed. Wanda slowly leant against the pillows once more, this moment of exertion had evidently taken it out of her. She closed her eyes even as her hands remained tight on his arm. “The fact that you think you could ever do something I don’t like, is ironic, that’s why I laughed.”

“Ironic?” Vision asked.

Wanda sighed quietly and moved her hands from his arm to his hands, holding them tightly as though prepared to stop him from walking out again. “You want me to spell it out, huh?”

He said nothing.

“I owe you an explanation I suppose,” Wanda said and despite how peaky the sickness was making her look, her cheeks gained a little more colour as she spoke. “You’ve been too good to me, the best part of my days is when I’m with you, I pulled away to see if what I was feeling was real. I thought if I could go a little bit without you then maybe what I was feeling wasn’t that serious,” she jerked her chin to the IV stand next to her, “but my assumptions were correct.”  

“So,” Vision began raising his eyes to meet her unwavering gaze, “what you’re saying is…”

“I’m falling for you and I’m scared about what that means for us,” she said and took a deep breath, “and of losing you.”

“You cannot lose me if you don’t have me,” Vision replied, “and perhaps youcan put aside your feelings. I, however, cannot.” It was true, if this week had taught him anything it was that he needed her in his life, by his side and if she let him, as something more.

Wanda’s eyes shone happily for a moment before she seemed to reign herself in. “I thought I could stop how I’m feeling,” she murmured, “I thought it was for the best, I thought I could protect myself.”

“We could protect each other.”

“Until one of us isn’t there,” Wanda said cynically, “I know this isn’t the kind of job we get to retire from.”

“Is that not more reason to pursue this, while we can?” Vision asked leaning closer.

Wanda didn’t have an answer to this, and Vision felt as though he had said enough for her to think about. He stood up, keeping a hold of her hands for as long as he could before he was forced to let go, stepping away.

“I will go and see if your soup is ready.”

Steve sat with Wanda while she ate the soup, her mind doing backflips over her conversation with Vision.

She wasn’t expecting Steve to be so forthright with his questioning, but he asked her as soon as she finished eating. “Have you fixed things between you and Vision?”

Wanda tried not to let her mouth hang open in surprise. “Not yet,” she muttered letting her spoon drop against the bowl and pushing it towards him.

“I’ve never seen him scared before today, you really gave him a fright.”

Wanda didn’t reply, letting the information sit with her even as the guilt began to fester.

“I don’t say that to make you feel bad,” Steve said, as though reading her mind, “I’m telling you so you know how much he cares about you. I mean he’s a synthezoid, Wanda, we used to worry he wouldn’t feel things and now the problem is him feeling too much? Do you not feel the same?”

Wanda stealthily avoided this question, she hadn’t even confessed the full extent of her emotions to Vis, she wasn’t about to let Steve in on her closely guarded heart just yet. No matter how much his counsel usually helped her. “I just feel this great wave of darkness waiting just beyond our horizon,” she said quietly, afraid to admit the brewing shadows she’d been feeling for months now. “Like something big is on the way, something we can’t stop.”

Steve’s brows furrowed at this, but he persisted. “Wanda, you of all people know how much your own mind can be your biggest enemy,” he said, “so is that really reason enough to ignore the light? Avoiding sad emotions doesn’t necessarily make us feel happy, so what makes you think running from happiness will stop you ever being sad?”

When she was still quiet, he pushed further. “You’ve had more darkness in your life than anyone should, but here’s an opportunity to add a bit of light to those shadows, are you really going to say no?”

She opened her mouth to answer but this time didn’t have the opportunity as Vision phased through the wall, pausing when he saw he’d caught the pair deep in conversation.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quickly, but Cap was standing up, taking the empty soup bowl with him.

“It’s ok, I was just leaving.”

Vision pressed his hands together as he walked around her bed hesitantly, keeping his distance. “I wanted to check in on you before bed, are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” Wanda said, but she still felt a little feverish and like she might need to sleep for a week.

“I am glad to hear that,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck, “if you need anything in the night I’m just down the hall.”

“Can’t you stay?” Wanda blurted out before she could lose her nerve again. “Please?”

“If that would help,” Vision replied, and Wanda swore he turned away to hide a smile. When he looked back at her she patted the bed, gesturing for him to join her.

He was careful not to jostle her as he laid down, and Wanda openly admired his grace even as he shyly avoided her gaze.

“I admit I probably wouldn’t have slept tonight; I’d just keep coming in to check your temperature,” Vision conceded as he lay his head against the pillow and Wanda turned to face him. Then, more hesitantly, “Please don’t push me away without warning again.”

“I promise,” she replied without hesitation. “Perhaps I wasn’t sick because of the rain, maybe it was more complicated, like my heart giving up a little when I stubbornly tried not to listen to it.”

Vision chuckled. “I think the rain definitely didn’t help, but your heart makes a good point.”

Wanda smiled tugging the pillow further under her head and placing a hand under her cheek. She scrunched her nose at Vision, unable to stop smiling and extended her hand in invitation. He accepted, bringing one of his own hands up and intertwining their fingers, kissing the back of her hand tenderly.  

“And have you decided to listen to your heart?” He murmured, kissing her hand to punctuate the question.

“I have a very stubborn heart,” she relented, “I couldn’t ignore it even if I tried.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Vision said smiling at her and shuffling closer.

Wanda pushed back against his chest and Vision immediately halted. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ll get sick.”

Vision laughed. “Wanda, dear, I am a synthezoid, you couldn’t pass your illness onto me even if you wanted to.”

Wanda tilted her chin up at the challenge. “Well in that case.” She pulled him close and pressed her mouth to his as she’d wanted to hundreds of times. As though in celebration, the lights flickered out and the door slammed shut, submerging them in darkness that had Wanda laughing in embarrassment at her magic’s overreaction. Now cast in shadow, the only light was the soft glow of the mind stone atop Vision’s head, and the faint gleam of his eyes in the night. She used them as guidance to kiss him again, and again, and again. Finding no reason to stop until she felt him smile against her mouth, pulling back a little so that their noses were still brushing and the breath between them was shared. She was done with running from this, not quite sure how they had ever been able to hold themselves back from each other.  

[thewatermelloncat]

Leaders Set the Example

Summary: Written from the prompt given to me by Anonymous:

Can I request a young/teen sickfic where Luther is sick and tries to push through training but ends up performing terribly and Reginald yells at him in front of everyone for setting a bad example to everyone as "leader" etc.? And Luther is trying really hard not to cry but... it's Luther. And someone either sticks up for him or they comfort him after?

Warnings: None

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

From adoption they were all told that they are privileged. From the outside that is easy to see: the big mansion, the exceptional education, their well-presented appearance. But it is all superficial. Going deeper into what is harder to stomach, is their father’s constant assurance that it is a privilege to be the saviours of the world.

From a young age it had been drilled in Luther to be obedient, to train harder, to be better, to be a leader – that was most important. And for the most part he is a good leader, especially with his siblings being hard to manage. He always trains harder and works to be better. Though when it gets to obedience, and although it doesn’t look it, at times he questions his father’s motives.

It doesn’t quite sit right with him that their father appointed them as saviours of the world despite the fact that they are kids. By all means his family like isn’t ordinary but he knows enough about the outside world to know that parents are supposed to nurture their children. That parents learn their child’s limits and don’t force them to exceed them. He’s has never had that. Which is why he joins his siblings outside for group training despite feeling like he is dying on his feet.

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

The beginning of training had started off relatively fine. He guessed he had good enough fitness to push through the warmup run even with the cough that he had woken up with. A few coughs here and there weren’t a problem but the pointed stares from his father made him uncomfortable.

Sparring with Diego had started off rough but that was to be expected. Diego was always at his throat and took every opportunity to gain the upper hand in any competition between the two of them. Numerous times Luther found himself unable to block jabs and kicks with his defence wide open. He was also missing punches as Diego was able to quickly move out of the way. And more often than he would have liked, he was sent down to the mat by a well-executed attack, each time finding it harder to stand back up again.

Though he began to notice Diego’s pace slowing and his blows getting weaker. Every now and again he would watch his brother’s eyes flick over to their father before letting Luther land a punch to keep him a little more under the radar. Over time it seemed that Diego was realising how poorly Luther felt and was going easier on him, and Luther doesn’t know if he appreciates it or not.

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

The time of Diego going easy on him was short lived. At a certain point their father blew his whistle and the sparring stopped for them all to file in line. From there Luther and Diego were called forward to demonstrate their sparring while the other siblings critiqued their technique. From here it was impossible that Diego would go easy on him.

And go easy on him he didn’t.

Luther would like to believe that he was doing better than he was. From his own perspective it seemed like he was still putting up a good fight, landing a few punches here and there. Though he knew through his adrenaline he wasn’t feeling all the hits Diego was landing.

“Halt!” Reginald’s voice suddenly rings out.

Breathlessly Luther steps apart from Diego and turns to face his father.

“Why do you hesitate?” his father addresses him. For a moment Luther gawks, unsure how to answer, before his father continues again, “would you like him to hit you again?”

“No, sir” Luther answers, still short of breath.

“You have enhanced durability, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then Number Two’s punches should have no effect on you” Reginald finalises.

For no reason in particular Luther flicks his eyes over to Diego standing next to him, finding his expression blank but looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Are there any excuses you would like to make?” his father’s words draw Luther’s attention back to him.

Undoubtedly, he would like to raise the excuse of poor health and may have done so if he didn’t know any better. But he does know better and he knows it is a trap – no excuses are ever allowed. “No, sir. I’ll try harder.”

“You will try harder” Reginald scoffs before repeating, “you will try harder next time?”

“Yes, sir.”

His father scoffs again with a shake of his head. “As a member of this academy I thought it would be known to you that there may be no next time. A mission cannot be repeated once it has been failed” he outlines. “Was I wrong to assume this?”

“No, sir.”

Reginald opens his mouth to continue but it is not his voice that speaks next.

“All right, if Luther won’t make any excuses, I will” Klaus speaks out, his voice surprisingly strong considering his fear of their father. “He’s sick.”

“Is he?” Reginald turns toward him and Klaus shrinks under his gaze. “And how did this come into your notice?”

“It’s fairly obvious” Five puts simply. Speaking instead of Klaus since it is clear that he regrets speaking.

“Whether true or not, it is no matter” their father begins, though clearly aware of Luther’s ailment. “On any mission arisen, all members of this academy must be present no matter the circumstances. Is this clear?”

All around the children nod.

“Are you ill?” Reginald turns to Luther.

“No, I-I’m fine, sir” Luther stutters out due to stubbornness and his refusal for his father to see him as weak.

“So, your brother was lying?”

“No, sir” Luther quickly amends finding himself at a catch-22. “I’m not feeling well” his voice goes quiet in pain of admitting.

“Has this affected your performance?”

Luther wants to deny and say that it hadn’t but he knows his father can see through him. So, he doesn’t lie. “Yes, sir.”

All Luther’s hopes of the conversation being over are shattered as his father draws in a breath. “In which case Number One, I am disappointed.”

Although the lecture has just begun, Luther feels tears stinging behind his eyes. He always holds his father’s words to heart whether positive or negative.

“If a minor inconvenience has the ability to hinder your performance towards the team effort, I question your position as leader. The team is only as strong as the weakest link and a leader needs to be the strongest…”

The rest of Reginald’s words fade out and all Luther can hear is his stuttering breath in his ears. For anything he is grateful that no tears have come yet, though he knows they will later. He doesn’t dare look at the expressions of his siblings choosing to stare at the ground until he senses the words come to a stop.

Hesitantly looking up he sees his father draw in a breath and adjust his suit. “If you feel you cannot complete this training you may leave with consequence to be decided at a later time” Reginald lays out. Although his words may seem like Luther has an option, he knows it is an instruction for him to leave. And so, he does.

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

Before he has even left the courtyard, he feels the tears slipping from his eyes and he doesn’t dare look back. When he pushes through the glass door into the depths if the mansion he barely flinches as he senses Pogo’s presence next to him. No doubt that he had been observing from the window.

He doesn’t spare him more than a look as he moves past him, wiping tears away from his eyes with a frustrated sniffle. And he means to ignore it as the master of the house falls into stride beside him.

“Your father only wants what is best for you” Pogo attempts to convince, struggling to keep up with Luther’s long strides.

“How is this what is best for us?” Luther doesn’t bother to slow down despite Pogo falling slightly behind.

A sorry expression falls across Pogo’s face. “I don’t know, Master Luther” he admits solemnly as he stops in his tracks. “I don’t know.”

[metalbatandzenko]

all the numbers owo

GrCUnA gaoh god sdljhdkjshfkjsh

This is gonna get long so I’ll put it under the cut. I’m also gonna remove the ones I’ve answered already.

1. What fandoms do you write for?

OPM and AtLA. I have a Miraculous Ladybug fic, but the creator is a nightmare and I hate the way the show treats the main character (literally the creator said part of the show’s episode formula is the main character “learns a lesson” every episode: usually through humiliation) and all the characters of color so I really don’t write for it anymore.

2. What pairings do you write for?

Batarou, Mumensai, and I do general fics.

3. What is your most popular fanfic?

My Miraculous Ladybug fic. By like. a lot akfdjhlgkjhfdlkg

It’s got triple the subscriptions and bookmarks, double the hits, and more kudos than any of my other fics. And I haven’t updated since January.

4. Do you write original stories as well?

I do! I’m a creative writing major, so I do a lot of memoir nonfiction and poetry, but I also write fictional short stories.

5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?

I don’t think there is one! Different strokes and all. But if you weren’t aware, I’m working on an ATLA fic rn about Zuko trying to repair his relationship with Azula. Not for this fandom, but a fun fic for me because it’s a bit out of my wheelhouse.

6. What is a fandom you will never write for?

Out of the ones I’ve been in, voltron.

7. What is a ship you will never write for?

There are...a lot. For the sake of my mental well being, I will not list them. But I will say any ship between a teen and someone in their mid twenties or beyond is a no go for me.

8. Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, etc. which platform do you prefer?

Begrudgingly, Ao3. I have my issues with Ao3 and I think I’ve made those pretty clear (and they’ve gotten me into some hot water lmao) but it’s a good place to put fics.

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

I could not tell you. I am so bad at staying motivated. Certain fics I love writing. Others feel like I’m pulling teeth.

11. What’s your longest fanfic?

Hidden Horns. By a lot. like 20k words a lot.

12. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

A bit of both, but I lean towards laughing. The world needs more light.

13. What is your planning process?

Depends on the fic. For short ones or oneshots, there really isn’t one. For longer fics, I’ll have an outline, but a lot of times I’m laying tracks as I go. If I think of a good scene or line, I’ll write it down and just keep it at the end of my doc until it comes up in the story.

15. OCs or no OCs?

OC’s only when they’re necessary for plot. For example, Madame Oshitani in Hidden Horns only really showed up because I needed a piano teacher, and I couldn’t have it be an existing hero. Outside of that, I tend to avoid putting OC’s in fics, because I find them disruptive when I’m reading fics.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Sometimes! Hidden Horns was based off of this fanart. If they are, I make sure to note that in the notes.

20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?

Yeah you got:

A (Not So) Brief Hiatus-Miraculous Ladybug

Promises to Keep-OPM/batarou

Little Boy-OPM/Metal Bat centric

A Game of Chase-OPM/batarou

Not Invincible-OPM/batatou death

Someone Fun-OPM/Mumensai

Date With the Devil-OPM/Mumensai sequel

Something of Note-OPM/Mumensai

Conduct Evil-OPM/batarou

Grief and Other Intangibles-OPM/Zombiedad and CE death

Horns and Fangs Series (Hidden Horns and Fear and Fangs)-OPM/batarou

Spaghetti and Juiceboxes-OPM/Zombiedad and CE

I guess they don't like me but I never figured out why (I guess they think I don't like them either)-ATLA/Zuko reaches out to Azula

21. What’s your shortest fanfic?

Conduct Evil at a whopping 354 words.

23. Long chapters or short chapters?

They vary! Mine tend to be pretty short, like 1k-4k.

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

*sweats* Like 17 at least

25. How many WIPs will you finish?

Rude to assume I won’t finish all of them eight if I’m lucky

26. First-person-narrative or third-person-narrative?

Third. I hate writing in first person except for in nonfiction.

27. Do you take requests?

Kind of. If people send me an ask that I vibe with, I might write something, but as a general rule, no. I’ve been considering doing commissions though, so if you want to toss a coin to your bitcher lmk

28. I will name you three things (object — scenario — fandom/ship): write a paragraph or two!

I can’t do this one without those three kdjhflkjsdh

29. What’s more difficult? Fanfics or original work?

They’re difficult in different ways, but original is way harder.

Original work means there’s zero scaffolding to build off of except for the scaffolding you make yourself, and there’s a lot of issues with worldbuilding and creating complex and relatable characters.

Fanfic relies on a solid understanding of existing characters and dynamics, as well as the internal logic of the world. The scaffolding is there, but often times it’s stifling.

30. What writing software do you use?

Word and Google Docs fkjhslgkjh

31. Do you use beta/sensitive readers?

Nope. I probably should though.

32. Past or present tense?

Past. I can’t consistently write in present.

33. Do friends and family know that you write fanfics?

Some of my friends do. I’ve shared some with them! I use fanfic as warmup, so a lot of my writing friends know about my fics.

34. How did you find the world of fanfics?

I wrote Adventure Time fanfic on middle school and published them on an Adventure Time facebook group. They were wildly popular in the group.

36. Did you ever delete a work of yours?

I don’t think so tbh.

37. Did your work ever get plagiarized?

If it did, I wouldn’t know. But I highly doubt it.

38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)

No because I can’t stick to a deadline.

39. Collaborations or working solo?

I’ve never done a collaboration before.

41. What is something you don’t like about your writing?

I rely really heavily on dialogue and I’m suuuper aware of it. I think the thing is I do a lot of domestic fics, and even my story fics tend to be pretty domestic. I’m looking at you Hidden Horns

My original work doesn’t tend to lean on it as heavily.

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I am a die hard found family bitch. Nothing guilty about it.

44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?

Yes, actually. The aforementioned middle school fic got mini fancomic for the first chapter, and I wrote a Miraculous Ladybug ficlet in a fic chain that got fanart.

45. Do fanfics of your fanfic exist?

I think there might be one that was inspired by my fic, but I can’t remember tbh.

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

My ATLA fic!!! give it some love tf :/ (kidding of course.)

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

Yeah, here you go:

The hero removed his coat and dropped it on the ground, where it landed with a solid “thud”.

He unhooked the holster under his arms, removed a knife from both boots, and unstrapped the machetes from his back.

They joined the trench coat in the pile.

Garou watched in equal parts awe and horror as Zombieman continued to produce weapons from increasingly improbable locations.

Finally, when the pile at his feet was large enough to arm a private militia, Zombieman stopped.

“I’ve got a pistol in my chest, but I’d prefer not to take that one out,” he said, pushing past Garou. “Feels rude to invite myself over then get blood all over the tatami.”

[quickspinner]

Hey Gorgeous - Under Your Skin 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

A continuation of Hey Gorgeous Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Bonus Scene | Now on AO3

A continuation of Hey Gorgeous Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Bonus Scene | Now on AO3

I’m supposed to be doing other things right now but I’ve rewritten this thing several times and I’ve finally got a version I’m happyish with and I’m gonna put it up so I won’t keep poking at it and ruin it.

The music building was old and stuffy, but Luka preferred it to the more modern buildings on campus, all of them sterile and pretentiously artsy and too bright. The music building squatted there like a protester at a sit in, unabashedly itself and refusing to be anything else, and Luka had always loved that about it. It reminded him of his mother. Marinette giggled at the comparison when he told her as they walked up the steps.

“I didn’t want to carry it all night, so I stashed it here on the way over to your place,” he explained, pulling his guitar case out of the locker. “And I really wanted to play the electric for you first, and I need a practice room with an amp for that. Hang on, let me just go get a key,” Luka squeezed her shoulder and jogged over to the administrative desk.

“Hey, I need a practice room,” Luka told the young man at the counter. The guy looked at Luka and then looked over his shoulder to where Marinette was waiting, and gave Luka a skeptical look. 

Luka ignored the look and put his student ID on the counter, sliding it over. They both knew that the clerk had no grounds whatsoever to deny the request. He grudgingly took Luka’s ID and handed over the key in exchange.

“Don’t make a mess,” the clerk said.

“Thanks,” Luka said brightly, pretending he hadn’t heard. 

He led Marinette downstairs to the row of practice rooms with their frosted glass doors. Several others were in use, which made him feel better. He didn’t want Marinette to feel uncomfortable being down here with him. He checked the number on the key and unlocked the corresponding door.

The tiny room had an upright piano against the far wall, and an amp in the corner, along with some other electronics. Luka pulled out the piano bench and invited Marinette to sit while he got his guitar plugged in and tuned, making sure he kept her between himself and the door so she wouldn’t feel trapped. When he was satisfied, he played a few simple warmup exercises, and then gave her a cheeky grin and played the riff from Sweet Child of Mine.

“Always a crowd pleaser,” he said almost absently before shifting into Sweet Home Alabama, then You Shook Me All Night Long. He lifted his head and grinned. “That’s what I do when I want to show off for people who aren’t musicians,” he confessed. “Just play one after another.” He moved over and sat next to Marinette on the piano bench. “Not exactly romantic date material though.” He improvised a sappy-sounding tune, and Marinette giggled. 

“But then again, you’re a Jagged Stone fan,” he commented, playing the riff from Rock Me Eternal, “So maybe it works for you.”

Marinette groaned. “I’m n-never going to l-l-live that d-down.” 

“Hey, it was brave.” Luka nudged her with his shoulder. “Maybe someday I can get you to sing for me.”

“I c-could b-be c-completely t-tone deaf,” she huffed. “You d-d-don’t know.”

“But you’re not, are you, Gorgeous.” Luka’s knowing tone and slow grin brought heat rushing to her face. “You can’t tell me a love song from your lips wouldn’t sound like heaven. I don’t believe it.”

Marinette scrunched up her face. “Y-you r-really are a shameless f-flirt.”

“Baby with this in my hands I can be anybody you want me to be.” His words were flippant but he smiled fondly at the guitar, wiping a smudge of dust off the black body with his thumb. “Tough?” He played the riff from La Grange. “Intense?” He played Every Breath You Take. “Sappy?” The guitar sang It’s like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you. “Emotional?” The guitar wailed but I’m only human, and I bleed when I fall down. “So what’s your pleasure, babe?” He winked at her. 

“I w-want to h-hear the r-real you,” she said softly. “Are you r-real, Luka? Or are you actually j-just a flirt looking for a g-good t-time like my r-roommate says?” 

For a moment they just looked at each other, and then Luka looked down, fiddling with the pick on his fingers. “Can I play you something I wrote?” he asked finally.

Marinette blinked. “I’d r-really l-like that.”

Luka nodded slowly, and squared his shoulders. “Okay.” He took a slow breath, and repeated, “Okay.”

He played. He played kindness and surprise, an unexpected, skipping beat with a thrilling tenor line. He played cold water on a hot day and breathtaking blue eyes. 

“Luka, th-that was beautiful,” she breathed. 

“I wrote that the week after we met,” he told her, watching those beautiful eyes. They went a little wide, and he heard her gasp. “And this…” He played another melody that started out more playful, with that same skipping beat, then a note of surprise and a rush of warmth that turned the melody deeper and brought a blush to Marinette’s cheeks. “You remember that time you tripped off the last step?” he said, eyes on his guitar. “You were wearing flavored lip gloss—you must have just put it on because I could smell strawberries when I caught you.” Luka smiled as he looked at her, “And this one...the black dress?” He played a melody that thrummed and pulsed, but there was something sad about it. 

“That’s amazing,” she breathed. “I mmean, it was l-like I c-could really hear what you were f-f-f-.” She swallowed and looked away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Feeling,” she managed at last.

“You wanted the real me,” he said quietly, dropping his eyes to the guitar, playing the black dress again just for something to do. “And the real me thinks you’re pretty special, Marinette. You know how they call Helen of Troy the face that launched a thousand ships?” He glanced up at her, and then down again. “Well since I met you, I can’t seem to stop writing songs. I’m not up to a thousand yet, but—“ he gave her quick smile. “I’m working on it. And...after tonight I’ll have a new song to write.”

Luka heard Marinette’s breath catch and he straightened, caught her eyes, and listened. “Something like this,” he murmured. His hand slid along the fretboard almost without conscious thought, his pick dancing across the strings with purpose. The melody that came to his hands was richer than anything he’d played up until now, but tense, a little bit reverent, a little bit disbelieving, a little bit eager. This was his true talent, the thing that made people sit up and take notice of him, his ability to take feelings and put them to music, and showing it to someone one on one always felt a little bit like being laid bare. 

Showing it to her, like this, was terrifying.

They were silent for a moment as the chords died away. 

“So you see,” he said with a self-conscious half-shrug, slowly sliding his pick behind the strings, shrugging out of the strap, and leaning the guitar carefully against the piano before turning slightly towards her and meeting her eyes. “The real me is just a lovesick idiot who’s been dying to kiss you for weeks.” 

Marinette’s breath was shaky and her cheeks reddened further, but she didn’t look away. “W-well,” she said, and cleared her throat. “H-how mmuch l-l-longer are you p-p-planning to wwwait?”

“As long as it takes for you to say yes,” Luka replied, voice low. He reached one hand across the small space between them to slip his fingers between hers, the other coming up to caress her cheek, his thumb brushing across her lips. “And not a second longer. Can I kiss you, Marinette?” 

Her fingers came up and curled into his shirt, tugging lightly. “Yes.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22

A continuation of Hey Gorgeous Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Bonus Scene | Now on AO3

[writing-realityawayfromreality]

1 a.m.

Based off the song out of love by Alessia Cara (clearly...), if you hadn’t heard it, go give it a listen. Anyways hope you enjoy. and I know i’ve said this a thousand times requests that were sent in are on their way, just have had lack of time and motivation so that’s on my. As always, all the love,

-K

“I think you should leave.” You said having your back to him. “Please... y/n.” He said walking to stand in front of you. You had tears streaming down you face. “ LEAVE NOAH... please.” You said not moving. Noah looked you in the face, he looked down at his feet before looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. He started heading towards the door. “I never meant to hurt you.” He said. “I know Noah, I know.” you said still facing away from him.

 That was almost a year ago. You still have those dreams every night. That was the last time that you had spoken to him. you had broken your lease in Carolina and moved back home. It was a long process to get into the college near your home town but you did and you couldn’t be happier. You and a few of your friends decided to go to a game in town since the arena was only a few minutes down the road from campus. You opened your closet looking through your jerseys you came across his. You had no idea that you still had it, you thought you packed it up in his boxes and left it in Carolina. 

You pulled it off the hanger and threw it onto your bed, I’ll throw it out later... you thought before pulling off your college sweatshirt and pulling it over your head. you threw your hair into a messy bun and put on some makeup. You and your friends hopped into your car, putting on your playlist you headed to the arena. The Scotiabank Saddledome was filled with people waiting to get in. This was your first hockey game since leaving the states and you were excited. You hadn’t really watched calgary since you were little but you knew they were always a good team. After your friends and you got in y’all got some drinks and headed to your seats. The warmups just begun, you were looking at the jumbo tron as they showed the players and their stats. 

You watched as they skated around a bit before your friend bumped your arm gesturing to the jumbo-tron again. “Isn’t that...” you friend began to say. You looked up to see Noah’s face. How could it be. You unlocked your phone typing in his name on  instagram to look. He had a jersey with the flames logo on it. All the pictures was just hockey, with the exception of a picture of you and him back in Carolina on the beach. It was the back of you two so no one would know, unless they looked to see who was tagged of course. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw it. You went onto google to see if it was true to which you found an article from last season saying that he was traded. 

it was a pretty intense game since it was nearing the playoff push, for the most part it was back and forth up until the very end when Calgary scored and the other team decided to pull their goalie which lead to an empty netter by Noah. Your friends insisted on heading to the bar after the game, you weren’t a huge drinker but you decided that you would go with and be their DD even though they could literally walk back to campus. You waited to see the three stars of the night before heading out, that way it wouldn’t be so packed. Your friends went ahead of you to the bar, you stayed behind for a little knowing in the back of your head you would bump into him.

Walking ever so slowly to the door, you were knocked into. “woah, I’m so sorry.” a man said from behind you. You stopped in your tracts knowing that voice all too well, it wasn’t noah’s however. “Hanni, you really gotta chill bro. Ma’am are you okay?” he asked. You debated on whether or not to turn around. You knew that he would recognize you and the fact that Noah was with him made the decision harder. “Miss?” He asked placing a hand on your shoulder, you slowly turned around facing Elias. “Y/n?” Noah asked. “You’re here...” he looked confused. “Yeah, um, well, good game guys. Have a good night.” you said before hurrying off in the opposite direction. 

You made it outside before you heard your voice being called. You turned around to a Noah standing in front of you. “What....what are you doing here?” He asked. “ I live here now, well on campus at ABM but.” you said. “So you did end up moving back home. Elias thought that he saw you in the stands but I thought it was too good to be true....” Noah started. “Noah, please.” you said. “y/n, you know i never meant for it to end like it did...” Noah said looking you in the eyes. “Listen, a few of the guys and I are going out to get some dinner, would you want to come with? I mean you know, just to catch up since I haven’t seen you in...” “A year. Um. Noah, i don’t know if that’s a good idea, my friends are at the bar, and I’m the one driving...” “Tomorrow? At waves?” He asked hopefully. “Noah, i... i just can’t.” you said turing away. “Okay, well. Have a good night then.” Noah said heading to meet up with the guys. 

You headed to the bar, meeting your friends you ordered a round of shots. “You okay?” your friend asked. “Yeah, just peachy.” you said downing the shots one after another. You didn’t typically drink nor did you really like getting drunk but tonight was different, you needed to dull those feelings for Noah, the ones that you thought you had gotten over. Your friends had gone onto the dance, to which you stayed sitting at the bar alone, drinking. “Might want to slow down there missy.” you heard a voice. You turned in the direction of the voice. It was Elias. “i take it it didn’t go so well with Noah?” he asked gesturing to the empty cups. “No, I don’t know. What are you even doing here? I thought Noah said you guys were going out for dinner?” you said trying to clear your head. “Nah, Noah went home. So the guys decided to get drinks instead.” 

“Why did Noah go home?” You asked clearly slightly drunk. “He... He just couldn’t deal with the fact he screwed up a year ago. It was a dumb mistake y/n, it still haunts him to this day.” You and Elias talked for awhile you found out the guys lived in the apartments right down the road. You had a few more drinks before Elias went out onto the dance floor leaving you alone with your thoughts. It was a dumb mistake.... Replayed over and over in your head. Before you knew it you felt yourself getting up and walking out of the bar, down the street and to Noah’s place. 

you couldn’t believe that you were doing this, Elias had given you all the information without even knowing. You went up to the 5th floor and down to his door, or so you thought. You started banging on a door “Noah! I know your in there...” You shouted. There was a rather tall, but much to young boy who opened the door. “Where’s Noah?” you asked rather loudly. “y/n?” a voice asked from down the hall. “Hanni, is she with you?” the boy standing in front of you asked. “Yeah, sorry.” He said coming to take your hand. Noah lead you down and inside his apartment. “y/n, what are you doing here? It’s 1 a.m. How did you know where I live?” He asked as your head spun.

“I won’t tell you i’m lonely noah... you had your chance and you... you messed it up.” You said pointing at him slightly swaying back and forth. “Oh jesus...” Noah said running his hands through his hair.  “y/n, are you drunk? Come here.”  Noah said walking closer to you, you swayed even more almost losing your balance and almost falling before Noah caught you. “I’m not asking you to hold me Noah, let go.” you said trying to pull away from him. He had picked you up and walked over to the couch placing you on it before walking into the kitchen. “Just walk away like you aways did. Not wanting to face what happened!” you yelled. Noah walked back with some water and tylenol “take these.” He said handing them to you. 

You felt yourself starting to tear up, before you could stop it the tears ran down your face. “y/n... why are you crying?” He asked sitting down next to you. “I won’t tell you i’m lonely, cause it might be selfish, but that’s not who i am. I’m not selfish....” you said. Noah placed two fingers under your chin lifting your head to look him in the eyes, those eyes that you had fell in love with. “y/n, you’re drunk, we can talk about this in the morning.” Noah said getting up to get some blankets and pillows. He pulled off your shoes and moved you until you were laying on his couch. He sat at the other end of the sofa placing your feet on top of his legs. “I won’t ask you to say...” You said. “I’m staying right here, until you sober up a little and we can talk.” he said rubbing your legs. “But i will ask you this question, because it might help me sleep longer.... When did you fall out of love with me? When did your love run out for me?” you said. 

“It never did.” Noah whispered before you felt yourself dozing off. 

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

you woke up the next morning to see Noah sitting at the end of the sofa, you were a bit confused, why am I here? you rubbed your head. You must had woken Noah up. “Hey there.” Noah said in his morning voice. “Do you remember anything from last night?” He asked. You shook your head. “How did I get here?” you asked. “you showed up banging on my teammates door at 1 in the morning. You were a bit...drunk.” He said. “Oh, i’m sorry.” You said before getting up and putting on your shoes. “I think i should probably head out...” You said but Noah grabbed your wrist. “Wait, no one is walking out this time. You asked me last night when I fell out of love with you. I think you need to know the answer. I mean we dated for years and I know you well enough that you knew what you were saying even though you were drunk.... It was a mistake y/n.” Noah said looking you in the eyes. “I never meant to hurt you.” He said “We had been together for five years at the point. I was dumb, she was new and pretty and different...” Noah said. “Not helping Noah...” you said. “just listen. After you found out and left, yeah i dated her... but she was nothing compared to you. the more I spent time with her I wished it was you, that’s why I was so glad to get traded to Calgary in hopes to see you again.” Noah finished. “What about her, are you two still...” you asked Noah. “No.” he laughs. “She... she hooked up with one of the boys in the AHL who came up for a week.” Noah said. 

“So the answer to your question is i never fell out of love with you, i never will run out of love for you.” Noah said once again looking into your eyes. “Noah, we can’t just pick up where we left off...” you said turning away. “And I’m not asking to. I just thought you should know. Could we just... start off as friends, maybe see where that leads us?” Noah asked.

“I don’t know Noah, it’s been a year that we’ve been apart, and I still thought about you every day. Seeing you with her hurt me noah. I just can’t throw all those feelings away of hurt and sadness that occurred over the year...” you said looking at noah, he looked so hurt. “But i also can’t throw all the feelings that have developed over those five years we spent together. I never stopped loving you Noah, and that’s why it is so hard for me. How do i know you won’t get tired of us again, how do I know we won’t be sitting here five years down the road having the same conversation?” you asked. “Because you wouldn’t give me another chance. y/n, i’m not asking you to forget what I did or what happened. I’m just asking if we could start over. If not then that’s okay, I don’t deserve you and I am not just saying these things to get back with you. I really mean what I’ve said. Ask Elias, I’ve messed up and I’ve missed you so much.” Noah said now on his knees in front of you.

You still loved him but you weren’t ready to just jump back into the relationship. you ran your hand through his hair to get him to look up at you. “Okay Noah....” you put your hand out looking for Noah. He grabbed your hand looking slightly confused. “Hi, i’m y/n.” you said smiling, “Noah... listen i know this is kinda fast moving but, how would you like to come to my hockey practice today?” He said. “I’d love to.” you said laughing. 

[allfandomxreader]

Familiar Mark

Pairings: Tom x Reader

Request: congrats!!!!! i have a request (sorry if my english sucks) when the reader was little she used to be debbie in billy elliot with tom and she had a big crush on him but he liked this girl megan jossa ?) but anyways she grew up and now she's an incredible singer,dancer and actress for musical theatre and tom went to see a show one day and he saw her and he has this feeling that he knows her so he goes to find her something like that:)

Warnings: I don’t even think I cursed in this? Go me??

Words: 2k

A/N: So I reallllly love this idea and I would totally do a mini series of like tom and the reader being in the theatre and it’d be like an au if you’d like?? Just let me know if you’d read it and I’ll do it!!

Disclaimers: The gif is a Hamilton gif but the musical doesn’t have to be Hamilton, it can be anything. However, I thought of this song for the reader’s balled.

Masterlist // Marvel Masterlist

The auditorium before you is empty as you stand on the familiar mark. Silently, your eyes loom over every seat, knowing that in just a few hours, each one will be filled with a cheering stranger. You take a seat on the dusty stage, still not being swept from whatever performance took place yesterday, no doubt leaving a ring of grey on your black leggings.

You’re not nervous this time, instead, an intense pang of longing nags at your gut, remembering clear as day the event from so many years ago.

As much as you remember the happy faces, the cheers when you finished your first solo, the ‘ooos’ and ‘ahhs’ when you landed stunts. You also remember him. The boy you swore up and down you were in love with even at such a young age, the way his hand felt warm against the clammy palms of your own, and how after that, you never saw him again.

Everything here reminded you of Tom.

Your heart raced as you listen to the murmuring just beyond the thick, red curtain. Automatically, you knew over a thousand people were seated in the audience waiting for the show to begin. You pictured it, strangers of all ages skimming over their playbills waiting anxiously for the lights to dim.

It excited you. It terrified you.

You mumbled line after line, hoping you wouldn’t forget the rehearsed words once you stepped onto the stage. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt trying to distract your hands from their shaking. Even though you should’ve been used to performing, panic still bubbled within you before shows.

A hand covered your trembling fingers causing the frayed shirt strings to fall from your grasp. When you raised your eyes, Tom stood before you with a friendly smile. “You’re going to do great, Y/N.” He promised, offering the pep talk you needed and replaced your nervousness with butterflies.

Same mark on the stage, same theatre, same curtain. Although the beautiful space around you seemed like it hasn’t changed, you certainly have. Different musical, different costumes, different cast, different you.

You stand beside the two women who have easily become your best friends over the musical’s tour. Your hands grip around theirs, squeezing softly, it was how the three of you say, “Break a leg” without uttering a sound.

“Break a leg, Y/N.” Tom whispered, letting your hand fall from his grasp and back to your side. With a final smile, he raced away from you and to his own designated mark. You couldn’t help but watch as he scurried away, a fond smile tugged at your lips.

Tom shook his arms and torso, ridding his nerves, something you caught onto before every show. It was comforting to know he was nervous, even if he refused to show it. Megan approached him with a cheerful smile and Tom’s face lit up in her presence. You knew that look, that was the look you gave him.

Shaking your head, you clear your mind and ignore the shattering of your heart. You took one last deep breath, plastered your award-winning smile, and awaited your cue.

The crowd cheers when the velvet peels back, finding its rightful place in the wings, refusing to shut until intermission. Your legs gracefully carry you to your second position, singing and smiling. Your voice fills the room through the speakers hidden within the walls, the mic taped to your forehead only irritates your skin for a moment before you become accustomed to the itch.

Your fingers lace with Daniel’s, a fellow performer, waltzing around the stage in your choreographed dance with ease. Excitement pulses through your veins as he lifts you off the grounds, spinning effortlessly through other dancing bodies. Your dress fans around your legs, only focusing on the young man before you.

You twirl out of your friend’s arms, taking your place center stage just as the casts falls silent, the instruments ghostly quiet. Your eyes gaze over the audience, each face smiling as you begin your short solo, one of many throughout the night, already forgetting about the boy whose long forgotten about you.

Screams bounce off the walls as the last few notes are sung and you twirl back into the arms of Daniel, never missing a beat, never missing a step, no matter how much you wanted to bask in the attention strangers are willing to give.

Tom stares at your dancing figure with awe, goosebumps still present on his arms, his toes still recuperating from chills. His mouth hangs agape as he stares at his long-lost friend, mesmerized by your talents. He lazily taps Haz’s shoulder, not daring to remove his eyes from the stage. “Hand me the playbill, will ya mate?” Tom whispers, voice almost lost in the music.

He flips through the neat pages after you floated off the stage and into the wings. His eyes scour over meaningless names until he lands on yours. Y/N Y/L/N. It’s been far too long since he’s last spoken to you, your connection frayed between busy lives and the unexchanged phone numbers.

He grins upon seeing your name at the top of the flimsy paper. Leading Role. Something you most definitely deserved, especially with a voice and moves like that. Tom stuffs the booklet in his jacket pocket, ignoring his friends’ confused stares as he averts his attention once more to the stage where you enter yet again.

Words tumble out of your lips and fill the theatre as you interact with props and friends. The lights overhead warm your skin as you move beneath them, lifting the hem of your dress to maneuver between your marks without toppling over.

The hour and a half mark arrives all too soon. Your veins pulse from either side of your neck as you scream your script to Daniel, who’s broken your heart on paper but never had the chance to hold it in reality.

The audience gasps at plot twist nobody saw coming. A few women in the front row dab their eyes as they switch between you and your costar, awaiting for what happens next. You turn away from the man just as he reaches for your arm, but you wrench your hand away from his gentle grasp sputtering fake sobs left and right as you dart backstage.

The curtains fall shut.

Z, Haz, Jacob, and Laura all stare ahead at the closed curtains, not wanting to wait through intermission to see what happens next. None of them could say anything, too shocked to utter any form of a sentence.

Tom grins ahead, proud to see how far you’ve come from just playing Debbie, a supporting character, to landing your own spotlight. He feels nothing but joy and is humbled by the thought. He always knew you’d go far in whatever you set your mind to, he’s just happy he can see it too.

The next thirty minutes are full of dress changes, makeup fixing, running lines, and voice warmups. Your friends rub the energy stone, a good luck charm and tradition, before heading backstage.

You sit in your dressing room, staring at the reflection. Your skin glows with the light coming from the lightbulbs littering your mirror’s edge, almost blinding you, but you ignore it. You think of the girl who you once were all those years ago, too afraid to audition for a lead or to even admit her feelings to a boy. “This is for you, I hope I made you proud.” With one last fond smile, you rise from the comfortable chair and join your friends, ready for your next number.

The audience is dead silent as the curtains reel open, exposing only you on the stage, seated on a posh looking couch. You stare ahead, character taking over your persona as the piano plays somewhere in the pit.

This is your moment. The moment to bring everyone to tears, your moment to really shine. The stage is yours.

You sing through the first verse of the balled, already seeing fingers quickly sweeping under eyes to rid streams of water. Some people place their hands over their hearts, touched by your singing. You stand slowly, heels clicking against the stage as you walk towards the center, belting out the chorus.

Your arms wave around you, portraying how much agony your character is in. You fall to your knees, as if the pain was too much, even though you feel nothing. Tears freely fall from your eyes as you finish your solo, purposely breathing heavy for the mic to catch.

Through watery eyes, you see people stand one by one, cheering loudly, whistling, screaming. You desperately wish you could show a smile, offer a wave, something to show your gratitude. But you know the Headmaster would have your head on a stick if you break out of character. Instead, you slowly stand, pretending to have shaky legs and wobble off stage.

When the end has finally come, you stand beside your castmates, gripping their hands with a smile stretched wide across your face. Your heart races as the crowd cheers for everyone, cheering for you. Some even throw roses that fall onto the stage, littering the wood with red, white, and pink flower petals.

Tom swears he’s the loudest clapper in the room as he watches from his seat. His friends cheer beside him, Haz and Jacob holler as Z and Laura scream in satisfaction, tears they gave up trying to wipe away inching towards the napes of their necks.

Tom doesn’t follow his friends as they leave the theatre, he stays behind, scouring the sea of faces for you or at least someone who knows where you might be.

After the auditorium is clear of people, you emerge from the back, finally able to breathe being out of the bustier and form-fitting dress. Your face is now bare of makeup, feet free of heels, the auditorium ridden of people. Or so you think. Your sneakers scuff against the dirty floor as you pick up misplaced props and set them in their designated area. You hum your balled to yourself, never being able to get the bloody song out of your mind.

As you move across the stage, you feel eyes piercing holes through your hoodie. Cautiously, you turn, knowing nobody’s supposed to be here after the show has ended.

To your surprise, you’re met with the brown eyes you’d never thought you’d see again. Tom and you stand, frozen in place, both of you unsure where to go from here or even how to start a conversation. Tom moves first, moving through the rows of empty chairs, stepping over discarded popcorn bowls until he reaches you.

Your arms are around his neck within seconds, hugging the friend you’ve longed ages for. You chuckle to yourself pulling away, eyes finding the ground, heat creeping up your neck.

You don’t notice the tattered ‘X’ hidden beneath the toe of your sneaker. The familiar mark where the two of you stood all those years ago, where your crush on the boy in your arms began and ended and is now the same place where all those feelings came rushing back.

 Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 @rueinn

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Kitchen Dancing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentines Day is near and Y/N’s had a rough week. All she wants to do is let off some steam. [FLUFF]

This was requested in an anonymous ask. 

Word Count: 2,837 - One Shot

The playlist was very important in this, so I thought I’d share. 

PLAYLIST

“Are you sure I can’t just kill this asshole?” Bucky spoke into his comms as he effortlessly climbed up the fire escape and started jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Despite his large stature, his jumps and movement were completely silent.

“Fury says we need this man alive.” Steve confirmed.

“And don’t flatter yourself, Barnes.” Clint chimed in on the comms. “If this were a simple sniper job, I’d be handling it…not you.”

Bucky smirked at the job, lifting his body onto the roof of another building that wasn’t even with the last one. “Oh, yeah? Is that a challenge?”

“Yeah. That’s a challenge.” Clint chimed back.

“Alright, Frosty. You’re coming up on the building. It’s on the 7th floor.” Sam spoke.

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he slowed his run and looked at the building across his street. “I looked at the debriefing and I’m positive it said 6th floor.”

“You just can’t take my direction, can you?” Sam snapped back.

“I can take it if it’s right.” Bucky retorted with a smile. Messing with Sam would always be fun for him.

Suddenly his comms were rustling with the sound of Sam and Steve arguing. The bits and pieces he caught made it clear that Steve was snapping at Sam for always giving Bucky a hard time.

“He started it!” Sam defended.

Bucky swore he heard Clint sighing and groaning in the background.

“Alright. I’m going quiet.” Bucky announced, making his annoyance clear. Then he pressed the button on the earpiece and it went silent.

He did truly believe that the report said 6th floor. But he imagined Sam had the mission report in front of him, unlike Bucky. So he shrugged his shoulders and backed up to get a running start to jump to the apartment building.

----

Y/N had another ridiculously terrible day. No, she had a terrible week. But Friday had finally arrived.

It had already started off rocky when her girlfriends canceled the dinner and bar hopping they planned for an early Galentine’s Day celebration. Y/N was sad she wouldn’t have a much needed girls’ night out. But canceled plans always gave her a sick sense of relief and knowing she could completely vedge out on her own was never a bad thing. Y/N didn’t mind staying in and binging a show or watching movies.

One of the perks of living alone was the lack or requirement to wear pants. She was also free to act like a total weirdo.

Y/N jumped out of the shower and put on an oversized grey sweatshirt that was ripped at the neck and fell off her shoulders. It made her feel like she was in ‘Flashdance’. She didn’t bother adding pants to the outfit, deciding just to put on black boy-shorts to wear underneath.

Y/N had a playlist for days like this: where she just wanted to dance and sing her heart out. She’d already tested the soundproofing of her walls time and time before. No one had complained about these kinds of nights yet.

Could Y/N sing? Absolutely not. Did that stop her? Never.

But she only let her lungs go free when there was no witnesses or any chance of someone hearing her.

Could she dance? She liked to think so. In fact, Y/N was convinced she danced even better when there was no one around to watch.

Y/N turned up the volume on her stereo and started skipping around for a warmup. She went to her fridge and tried to take inventory to brainstorm ideas for what to make. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw leftover Indian food that she had yet to eat. That’s when she decided that she’d make cookies real quick for dessert before heating up her leftovers in the microwave.

Y/N squealed in delight when one of her favorite songs started playing. She slowed down her singing, swaying her hips to the beat. Then her hand found the spatula and decided to use it as a mic.

She sang to her heart’s desire, not giving a crap about how awful she sounded. It was all so cathartic after such a bad week of work.

Making the cookies took twice as long with all of the singing and dancing breaks between steps in the recipe. But Y/N didn’t mind.

After a few songs, she slipped the tray into the oven and put a timer on. 

----

Bucky should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the music playing. But he kept moving and used the loud noises to his advantage when he slowly raised the window from the fire escape of the apartment.

Their mission was to bring in a retired arm’s dealer. He’d sold billions of dollars worth of weapons to countries with evil intentions. The man had been out of operation for years. But there were rumors he still had contacts in the world and the Avengers needed specific information about one of his old friends.

Bucky had the most experience with extractions. So he happily took on the solo mission.

Now here he was in full combat gear, with half a dozen knives hidden across his body, three handguns, 4 grenades, and a rifle in his grip. His target had a history of intense military training and Bucky had been warned that he wouldn’t get taken without a fight. So Bucky dressed for battle.

But it all seemed ridiculous when he stopped and took in the interior of the apartment.

“God-fucking-damn-it, Wilson.” Bucky muttered underneath his breath. It took him all of one second to put together that he was in the wrong apartment. This was the last time he let Sam give the orders, especially on stealth operations like this one.

Bucky was about to turn around and leave just as quickly as he arrived. But then he heard her voice and couldn’t help but be stunned and frozen in his place.

There was a girl dancing in the connected kitchen, singing as loud as she wanted.

Bucky’s heart thumped in his chest as he realized how beautiful she was.

Then his cheeks went red when he realized how inappropriate it was that he was standing there watching this girl while she thought she was in the comfort of her own home. She wasn’t wearing any pants and the oversized sweatshirt kept sliding further down her shoulder as she moved her body. Bucky felt guilty when he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t mind if it went a bit lower.

The girl clearly couldn’t sing. But her lack of care was what mesmerized Bucky so much. He couldn’t remember when he had relaxed and enjoyed himself as much as this girl was currently doing.

Where she lacked in singing, she made up in dancing. Her hips moved perfectly to the music and they were more controlled than most women Bucky saw at bars and clubs he was dragged to these days.

Bucky was brought of his hypnosis when his earpiece got brought back to life without his consent. Steve must have hacked it back on somehow.

“What’s your status, Bucky?” Steve asked calmly.

“That idiot gave me the wrong floor!” Bucky hissed in a whisper.

But his luck had run out.

Because as soon as he whispered, there was a lull in between songs and his voice was much louder than he intended. So much for being the world’s deadliest assassin.

The girl heard his whisper and whipped around.

To his surprise, she didn’t scream. Maybe she was too petrified to verbally react. Her eyes widened. The playlist must have been over, because another song didn’t come on and it left them in an awfully awkward silence.

Bucky couldn’t feel worse for this poor girl. He was standing in her living room with enough weapons to take out a small army. How on earth was he supposed to explain the situation to her?

But to his surprise, she was the one that spoke first.

“Look. I jaywalked earlier today. But fuck… I don’t think I deserve the Winter Soldier coming into my home to assassinate me.” She slowly held up her hands in surrender. Then her eyes glanced down as if she just realized she was just in her underwear. “If you’re going to kill me, can I at least put on some pants? I really don’t want my friends and family to find my body like this.”

If she really did think he was here for her, how could this girl possibly be making jokes?

Bucky blinked rapidly and completely lowered his gun. “I’m-I’m so sorry.” He stuttered. “I’m in the wrong place.”

Y/N lowered her hands now, convinced that he was telling the truth and really was in the wrong place. “I thought you were one of the good guys now.”

Bucky’s eyes went to her ceiling now that he knew his target was right above them. “I am.”

The reality of the situation seemed to finally catch up to her then. She smacked herself in the face. “God, you fucking nerd. The Winter Soldier just saw you dancing around and singing in your underwear like a total loser.” She muttered under her breath.

“Actually, I found it rather entertaining.” Bucky smirked.

Her jaw dropped, not meaning for him to hear that.

“Sorry again. But I got to go.” Bucky winked at her and slipped out the window.

Y/N was still standing in the same place with her mouth hanging open. Then she heard a heavy scuffle above her. If no one could hear her singing and dancing, she could only imagine the fight that was happening for it to be so audible.

A few minutes later, the shuffling stopped and she heard the sound of a helicopter far too loud for it to be at a normal height.

Y/N sprinted to the window and leaned her head out.

The helicopter was hovering just above her apartment building’s rooftop. It was too dark to make out the faces inside. But Y/N caught the moon reflecting off the metal arm of the Winter Soldier. He was hanging out the edge of the helicopter. It was dark and maybe she was imagining it, but Y/N swore he was looking down at her too.

She stayed put, watching the helicopter fly away. The oven timer finally broke her out of the daze and made her jump. She rushed to the oven and took out the pan. But then she stared at the cookies in front of her for way too long.

The Winter Soldier was just standing in her living room.

----

A few days later, Y/N was once again alone in her apartment. This time, she was wearing sweatpants and the music wasn’t blasting.

Instead, she opted for binge watching some TV.

It was Valentine’s Day, meaning she was trying to fight off any negative feelings that usually accompanied the holiday for single people.

Y/N was taking a sip of wine when she heard someone knock on her door. Her entire body tensed. No one could get into the building without buzzing her apartment first. It could be one of her neighbors. But they rarely knocked on her door, let alone at this time of night. She’d already ordered pizza, so it wasn’t takeout.

So Y/N slowly got off the couch and tiptoed to the door, making sure not to step on any floorboards that made noise. She finally made it to the door and looked through the peep-hole. She covered her mouth before a gasp could escape.

Not only was the Winter Soldier standing on the other side of the door, but he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

A part of Y/N wanted to sprint into her bed and hide under the covers. But another part, a stronger part, was curious enough to undo all the locks on her door. It looked like a different man than the one that had snuck into her apartment.

Instead of his combat gear and accessories of weapons, Bucky was standing in civilian clothes: wearing black jeans, combat boots, a white t-shirt and a motorcycle jacket. The outfit made him look even more handsome.

“Hi.” He greeted innocently.

“Hi.” She replied quietly. “Now are you here to kill me?”

Bucky couldn’t help but let out an awkward laugh. He scratched the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding the flowers. “No, I’m not here to kill you.” Then he took in her outfit. “But I see you’re wearing pants. That’s good that you’re more prepared this time.”

Y/N smiled at his joke.

Bucky sighed. “I just came back to properly apologize. My teammate gave me the wrong floor. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m sorry for barging into your home. I’m even more sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m guessing you eventually got the right guy.” Y/N’s eyes glanced up at the ceiling. “Should I be concerned? Was there a meth lab above me?”

Bucky chuckled at her joke. “No. Definitely no meth lab. Just a dangerous, retired arms-dealer.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Then he looked down at the bouquet. “I-I didn’t know how else to apologize. So I got these for you.”

“Wow. Buying flowers for a stranger on Valentine’s Day? The Winter Soldier really is as brave as they say.” But she took them regardless.

“Ha.” Bucky blushed. “Well, I figured you’d be out with your boyfriend. The plan was to leave them with an apology note if you didn’t answer the door.”

“Well…that was quite the roundabout way to ask if I had a boyfriend. But thank you for reminding me that I don’t. It’s not like the entire day hasn’t been filled with constant reminders.” Y/N replied with sarcasm so thick that Bucky couldn’t help but smirk guiltily. But she continued. “Which also explains my current attire and the two bottles of wine I bought for myself tonight.” Y/N laughed and looked down at her sweatpants and t-shirt.

Bucky nodded slowly and looked at the ground. He never expected to get this far so he didn’t really know what to do next. Y/N had dealt with him enough. He apologized now it was time to leave her in peace.

But while Bucky was going through this mental battle, Y/N was taking him in. She’d read the stories about him. Everyone had.

Yes, she was alone on Valentine’s Day. But seeing one of the world’s greatest heroes go to a complete stranger’s house to apologize seemed like a sign of loneliness. Y/N saw him shift his weight, rub the back of his neck again, and glance around the hallway.

She knew he was trying to figure out a way to leave. But she also couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t really want to.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any plans tonight either…” Her voice showed a new softness, the sarcasm completely gone now.

Bucky laughed embarrassingly. “No. I definitely don’t have plans. Just sort of wanted to ride my motorcycle around the city, to be honest.” He cringed slightly, like he just now realized that could sound pathetic.

“That seems really nice, actually.” Y/N smiled warmly. “Listen, I have a giant pizza that I’ve barely made a dent in and plenty of alcohol to share.” Was she really doing this? “Would you like to come in?”

“You went from thinking I was going to assassinate you to openly inviting me into your home.” Bucky pointed out.

“Valentine’s Day fucking sucks, okay? The longer I’m alone, the more likely I’m going to spiral down into a mess of self-pity. I’ll start thinking there’s a reason I’m single…that there’s something wrong with me. So really, you’d be doing me a favor by keeping my company.”

Bucky’s eyes seemed to brighten. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Then Y/N stepped back and opened her door wider. Then she laughed, “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way.”

Bucky closed his eyes in embarrassment. How could he forget to introduce himself? His mother was probably turning in her grave. “I actually knew that.”

Y/N looked weirded out. “You did?”

“Yeah, I made Tony give me the information on the building and apartment unit to bring the flowers. I saw your name. Don’t worry, I didn’t do a background check or anything. Oh god. I’m rambling.”

Her jaw dropped. “Tony…as in Tony Stark?”

Bucky sighed, utterly frustrated with himself. “Yeah. That one.”

Y/N tried to hide her giggle. His awkwardness was honestly endearing.

Bucky squinted. “Can we start over?” She nodded.

He held out his hand. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

She slid her hand into his large grip. “It’s nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

-----

Thanks to the anon who requested this. I thought it was really funny and cute. 

And here’s that playlist again:

PLAYLIST

[desperatelyfullforever]

Time for a Badly Written Out Omo Story!

So, remember how I said that I have tons of stories? Well, here’s one.

So, this story is me in marching band. A bit of info: tall dark-skinned girl, with curly hair that reached my shoulders and was often pulled into a puff ball. Tomboy, always wearing sweats/jeans and flannel. On this typical day however, I was not the person in dire need for a toilet. My friend was.

Let’s call her Angie. Tiny Hispanic girl without a lick of an accent unless speaking Spanish. She had long, curly/wavy hair, brown eyes, glasses, and barely stood past 5’0” at this point in time. Average body, she wasn’t overweight but wasn’t skinny either. Just a bit of pudgy belly that’s honestly adorable.

A bit more information about her: Angie typically, by some ungodly reason can go an entire school day without so much as a glance at a bathroom. I would know, I’ve known her for 7 years and she’s only urgently needed one about 6 or 7 times. So, to see her desperate is a godsend.

So, for this story, we were in high school. I’ll add that we’re both instrumentalists and thus played in our school’s marching band, her playing the clarinet while I played the trumpet. We typically did a football game for our high school varsity team once a week, while almost every week we had a competition. Then there were “double-headers”, where we would have both a football game and a competition in one day.

On this day, reporting time was 9am in the morning. Me being the good friend that I am, I call Angie and asked if she wants a coffee, because I’m on my way getting one. She said yes, got her a large. Got to school and she finishes it within ten minutes. No big deal, it was expected. We all arrive and go through today’s agenda: away football game in 2 hours, leave during halftime, arrive at competition, get home by midnight.

Not really surprised, honestly I expect it. Buses get there at 12:30, so we have a bit of time in between after a couple run-throughs. We get food, with her buying an iced tea and a water to wash the sugar out of her mouth. Both the water and tea are gone within an hour, and by the time we’re scheduled to leave we camp out in front of the school, waiting for the buses to arrive.

Did I mention that it’s incredibly hot on this day? Did I also mention how shitty the band uniforms are? Our uniforms are thick enough to trap heat inside in the summer, yet not thick enough to act as insulation in the winter. The band parents pass out water to all of us, Angie grabbing a couple.

Finally, the buses arrive. The school is roughly about a half hour away, and I sit with Angie. Normal conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s at the tail end of the bus ride that I notice her a bit tenser than usual, wincing when zipping up the band uniform (they don’t stretch at all; sitting down in them is a pain because it typically just cuts into your body). “Are you okay?” I asked.

She blushed a bit. “I’m fine.”

I left it at that. Didn’t pry, didn’t ask. We finished changing and after the bus stopped, got off and heading to the game. For away games, we perform before the game unless a special request is made (such as the away team not having a marching band or some sort of halftime show), so we were asked to fill in for them. We warm up and get on the bleachers, not really allowed to play because we’re using the show as our warmup for the competition later that night.

I sit with Angie, and she’s quiet. A lot more than usual. She’s also a lot tenser than earlier, not saying anything and simply keeping to herself. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” I ask.

Allow me to describe the field. It’s fucking huge and a bit of a ways away from the high school, so there’s concession stands and bathroom (read: port-o-potties) on both sides. Today just so happens to be this high school’s Senior Day, so it’s packed with families and whatnot. She’s sweating bullets so, in concern and curiosity, I ask her, “Do you need something to drink?”

She stiffens immediately and vigorously shakes her head before stammering, “No! I mean, I…I’m good. I had a bit of water earlier when we first sat down.”

No, she didn’t. She hadn’t had anything since the bus ride, and I know the large coffee, iced tea, water bottle, and two smaller bottles of water earlier were starting to go through her. So, I decide to be a bit of a bitch and ask, “I had a lot to drink, I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Do you need to go?”

I can’t even begin to tell you how many emotions went through her eyes when I said that, and that right there told me that her bladder was, if not full, at the very least filling up enough to be of mild concern. Part of her wanted to say yes, while the other wanted to stay put. Guess what side won out?

“I’m fine. I don’t need to go.” Lies, but I left it there and went to the bathroom. Admittedly, if she had gone one of us would’ve been shit out of luck because I left to go pee around the middle of the first quarter, and the marching band leaves during the middle of the second quarter to warm up and prepare to march onto the field. I get back right as we are packing up to head onto the track surrounding the field, and Angie looks worse for wear. Typically, she’s a lot more hyper, but right now she’s quiet as hell and keeping to herself.

As we’re walking onto the field the band parents are handing us cups of water to drink before we go onto the field (right now it’s about 85 degrees, or roughly 29 in Celsius) and they won’t let us go until we finish it, so we do. Angie takes hers like it’s a damn shot and chucks the cup in the trash before putting on a face, marching to her section.

So, from that point we’re simply warming up, playing parts of the show, etc. About two minutes left on the scoreboard we stand on the track, waiting for the players to be done with the first half so we can perform. We march on in a block, with it going by grade: seniors, juniors, etc. Angie’s standing next to me, and she’s fidgeting. It looks more like her being impatient, but to the trained eye it’s clear she’s feeling full. She’s shifting from foot to foot just a tad while fiddling with her clarinet.

Finally, we perform, and let me tell you, our show this year had a TON of kneeling, running, etc. Keep in mind earlier I said how our uniforms don’t stretch, so the material digs into your skin. The show is eight minutes long, and after we perform we march off to load the buses immediately and to use the bathroom when we get to the next high school. We get on the bus, and drive to the next school.

Now, this ride is about 45 minutes long. Angie is clearly fidgety; she’s rocking back and forth and has her hands somewhat in her lap. I ask her again if she’s okay and she insists that she is. Then we hit a hard, hard bump and she gasps out loud before clawing at her uniform, saying she’s hot and wants a bit of fresh air before we march again. Okay, fair, I don’t pry.

Halfway there, re run into traffic. She’s being way too obvious at this point, and I simply watch in silence while increasingly growing turned on. We get there an hour later, having barely enough time to get ready to perform. We’re told that we’ll use the bathrooms after, which is not going to end well; we’re the third to last band, so we can’t wander too far because the second band just gets to the sidelines while the last band performs. We quickly put our instruments away and the vast majority of kids haul ass to the bathrooms or getting food. Angie and I are captains, so we straggle behind to make sure everything’s okay with our respective sections. All five of the kids in her section hands her their clarinet so that they can rush to the bathroom (she’s known for never needing the bathroom, so they just assumed), and she’s squirming like hell. Her legs are crossed and she just can’t seep to get comfortable. By this point in time, it’d be stupid to rush to the bathroom because everybody is already in line, so she’d have no chance in getting in one until after the awards.

Finally, everybody comes back. Her section takes their instruments from her, and the second they do I notice her frantically unzip her uniform (it’s two layers, a jacket over an overall-type pants that zip up in the front) and sighing in relief. It’s still warm out, so the band parents once again hand out cups, and she once again chugs it.

Boring part of it is sitting through awards. She sat near family so I didn’t really get a good look at her, but the awards lasted for about 75 minutes before we closed (about 16 bands performed, and there were a lot of awards and scores such as best drumline, best color guard, etc.), so we ended roughly on schedule (we got to the football game before around 1ish, the game started at 2, we performed at 4:30, left at 5:15, got stuck in traffic until 7:30, performed at 8:10ish, last band performed at 10:15, awards started at 10:45, and ran until midnight).

I finally meet up with Angie who’s looking entirely too anxious to leave. “I’m hungry,” she says to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the crowd. “Can we get food?”

I know why she wants to go. The bathrooms are right next to the concessions. Luckily, we need to leave right away because it’s so late, so the band parents had already brought food for us to eat. We grab food and drinks and board the bus again. Of course, people are being asses and using chairs as tables for plates so there are less seats. I let Angie sit in my lap as we sit by the window.

In order for both of us to be comfortable I basically wrap my arms around her so that she stays steady, which means putting pressure on her bladder. The moment I do this she winces and crosses her legs tightly (by this point we’re out of uniform, both of us in shorts and a t-shirt). I say nothing for the most part.

About five minutes in, she gets a phone call with her parents asking me to take her home. Sure, I don’t mind. We’re gonna get home after 1 in the morning, so I didn’t mind in the slightest. But that meant waitng even longer, because I typically help unpack everything, and that takes about twenty minutes.

Anyway, another few minutes pass and she begins to tremble on and off. There’s times she’s still yet tense, other times she’s squirming like fuck. She slips a bit after a bump, and I naturally tense my arms to catch her. I push a decent amount on her bladder, and she gasps loudly while grabbing herself.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” I ask. “It looks like you need to…”

“Don’t say anything,” she cuts me off as she rips her hands away. “I’m…fine…” this is said while she’s tense as fuck and rocking back and forth in my lap.

I shrug, smirking. “Do you mind handing me my water, then?”

Of course, that fucks with her hard. She grabs it out of my bag and moans, “Oh, fuck,” from feeling the condensation, tossing it onto the seat next to us. She grabs herself again and wheezes, “Fuck, I need to pee damn it!”

Finally! With her saying it she finally gives in, whimpering while rocking her hips back and forth. She’s grinding into me pretty hard, rubbing against me every so often to work me up pretty damn good. “How much time left before we get to the school?” she whispers.

“About a half hour left.”

That only seems to make her need to go more, as she clutches herself. I sit there, not knowing what to say until a few moments later she goes, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, grabs my hand and places it over her crotch, pressing her hands over mine while grinding into it.

Cue me overwhelmingly horny and turned on beyond belief at this point. I’d never thought I’d see the day where Angie’s dying for a piss, yet here she is, grinding into my hand while sitting in my lap. Unconsciously, I begin massaging her with the palm of my hand while relishing the sight in front of me.

Allow me to tell you how the hell we didn’t get caught. It was dark as hell inside the bus, and we were near the very back. Plus, the majority of kids were already knocked out from exhaustion. We’d only get caught if someone heard or was looking for it.

Here we are, with her grinding into my moving hand when I feel a spurt against my fingers. She moans and curls into a ball, rocking her hips harder. “Help, please,” she pleads.

Well, she asked.

Instantly I pull her against me even more and tilt her head to mine, kissing her. At first she’s understandably shocked to hell and back, but after a desperate grunt she kisses back. I rub my hand faster against her, making sure to get enough friction through her shorts.

I move from her lips and begin kissing her neck, urging her to keep quiet. She grabs at my legs and cocks her head to the side to give me more access, biting her lip. Did I ever mention that she’s bi, and we’ve had a crush on each other for the longest time? At this point we’ve had unresolved sexual tension like you wouldn’t believe, hence this situation happening like it did.

Anyway, after a lot of heavy petting I decide to risk it and slip my hand underneath her shorts into her slick folds, rubbing her clit while putting a bit of pressure on her bladder to see how she responds. She shivers and grinds harder into my hand, whispering words in Spanish. “Si bebe, no te atrevas a parar.” So, I keep going.

I never fully bring her over the edge because I don’t want her to cum and accidentally lose it, plus it’s just too good to be true for me and I don’t want it to end. By the time we get back to the school she’s leaked a couple more times and can’t keep a hand from between her legs, whether it’s mine or hers. I help pack everything away, with her standing to the side squirming and shuffling around.

I rush a bit and finish five minutes early, hurrying her to the car. Angie lives about ten minutes from the school so it’s not horrible, but right then and there it felt way too short. So, I stop for gas. It’s at this point that she’s on the verge of tears and is frantic as fuck in the car; both hands between her legs, legs moving back and forth, constant crossing and re-crossing, whimpers and moans, and so on. By the time I pull off she gasps again, louder than ever. “I can’t hold it, I’m gonna go, I’m gonna pee!” she whines, looking around as if there’s something she can go in.

“You better not piss in my car,” I warn.

She moans again and rips her shorts down, as if to squat down. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl. She finally lifts her shorts back up and continue holding it in, but now I hear steady, sharp leaks. By the time I get her to her house she’s so full it’s insane. She steps out of the car, makes it two steps and the damn bursts. She moans loudly it concerns me, until I notice the HUGE mess. A puddle already is forming, and she looks so relieved.

She takes about two minutes to finish, before inviting me inside and us finally sleeping together. 

[xswestallen]

Sing To Me

Summary: A WestAllen drabble. Barry wants Iris to sing to him. Very fluffy!

Movie Musicals have long been a favorite of Barry and Iris. Ever since Barry moved into the West house, he and Iris made a tradition of watching a musical on rainy days and singing along to it. Nearly two decades later, rain made both of them feel an instinctual ache for song and dance.

It was a particularly gloomy day in Central City. The sun had not been seen since it set the previous evening. The drizzling aftermath of a thunderstorm dosed the residents with melancholy.

Immune to the weather's effect thanks to the comfort of musical theater, Barry and Iris were sat up in bed watching Chicago. They'd barely moved all day. Iris was still wearing Barry's t-shirt she liked to sleep in, with a pair of lace panties underneath. Barry had his arm around her. A half empty bowl of popcorn rested in between their thighs.

"You know," Iris began, taking another handful of popcorn. "I bet Razzle Dazzle is The Music Meister's favorite song."

Barry snigger.

A curiosity hit Iris and she was surprised she'd never thought about it before. "Bear, when you were trapped in that musical world, you said there was a version of me called Millie."

"Mmm hmm." Barry mumbled with a mouthful of popcorn.

"Did I sing?"

"No, unfortunately you didn't." Barry answered. "But, Joe did."

Iris' jaw dropped. "He did?"

"Yep. He was really good."

Iris grabbed the remote and paused the movie.

"Hey, this a good-"

"My dad, Joe West, sang to you?" Iris asked in disbelief.

"Not to me." Barry corrected. "He sang to you."

Iris' lips curled into a smile. She had precious memories of her dad singing her lullabies when she was young and couldn't fall asleep. Her heart felt tender as she recalled the melody of his voice. "What did he sing?"

"A nice father-daughter ballad. It must've been an original because I've never heard that song before. It was sweet, very Joe like."

Iris felt giddy.

"Although," Barry continued while Iris was lost in thoughts of her dad. "He was a mobster............. so overall, he wasn't very Joe like."

Iris wasn't listening. She was thinking up possible lyrics and rhythms the musical alternate universe version of her dad wrote for her.

Barry studied her face. "What are you thinking about?"

"I wish I got to hear it." Iris sighed.

Barry frowned. He wished he could remember the words to the song. Getting shot and almost dying kind of muddied the details of everything that happened before that.

"What is it with other versions of Joe West singing, but not my dad?"

Barry laughed. "I don't know."

"What if my dad has a golden voice but is just too embarrassed to share his talent with the world?" Iris suggested.

"The great tragedy of Earth-1."

They both laughed. Iris moved the bowl to the bedside table and snuggled into Barry's side. His arm wrapped around her and he gave an affectionate squeeze.

"I wish my dad would sing to me again." Iris admitted. "I wouldn't even care if he was good, I'd just like to hear it."

"Everything is better in song." Barry sighed.

Iris looked at Barry with adoring eyes. "I loved when you sang to me."

Barry's face lit up with joy.

"It was the most romantic thing I could have ever dreamed of."

Barry took Iris' left hand in his and they both admired her engagement ring. But, that didn't stop Iris from noticing the smirk creeping up on Barry's face.

"What?" She said with a tentative look.

"I would like to be serenaded too."

Iris laughed. She assumed Barry was joking, but when she caught his eye again, she could tell the request was genuine. "Oh my god, you're serious."

"Yeah!"

Iris pointed a finger at herself. "You really want ME to sing to you?"

"I would love nothing more." Barry told her.

"My voice is awful."

"It's not. And even if it was, I wouldn't care. Just like you wouldn't care if your dad was a good singer or not." Barry explained.

"Yeah, but that's different." Iris retorted.

"How?"

"If singing is going to be romantic, it has to be good. You, Barry Allen, have the voice of a Disney prince. It was made for a romantic song. My voice on the other hand," Iris made a sour face trying to think of the most fitting adjective. "Let's not even go there."

"That is not true. I've heard you sing!"

Iris lowered her brows. "When?"

"You used to sing in your room every morning while you got ready for school."

"That doesn't really count."

Barry didn't concede. "You were singing in the shower the other day."

Color drained from Iris' face. She suddenly felt clamy. "You- You heard that?"

"Yes, and it sounded beautiful." Barry assured her.

Iris covered her face with her hands. "Uggghh."

"Iris!" Barry pleaded.

"No." She said firmly, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm mad at you. You had a chance to join me in the shower and instead you chose to listen to me sing? Unforgivable." She turned her back on him.

Barry pulled her down onto the bed and stroked her hair. "I'll make it up to you next shower. I promise."

Iris' expression softened. Barry leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Mmm, I love you." She hummed.

"I love you."

Iris closed her eyes and relaxed. But, she couldn't relax. She felt Barry watching her.

"What?" She demanded, opening one eye.

"I still want you to sing to me."

"REALLY???"

Barry nodded vigorously. "Really!"

Iris sat up and held Barry's face in between her hands. "Baby, I sound like an ally cat!"

"You sound like an angel!" Barry insisted.

She released his face and he let the top half of his body plop down onto the bed. Laughing from a mix of frustration and amusement, Iris rolled over onto Barry's chest. "I could shatter glass."

"An amazing talent. I'd like to see that." Barry countered.

Iris rolled her eyes. Barry pouted his lips. Damn him! He knew that puppy dog face would make her do anything he wanted. Why did he have to be so fucking adorable?

"Fine."

Barry's pout transformed into a smile at super speed. He kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"What should I sing?" Iris asked.

Barry tapped his finger against his jaw as he contemplated. Iris folded her arms, feeling annoyed by how much thought he was he was putting into this.

"L.O.V.E. by Frank Sinatra" Barry finally decided.

Iris looked down at him with a raised brow. "Really?"

Barry nodded. He gave Iris a gentle push. She rose to her knees and shuffled to the end of the bed. Barry sat up attentively. He positioned pillows against the headboard to cushion his back. Iris cleared her throat and wiggled her lips around in a mock attempt at a vocal warmup.

Barry rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the show. "You're going to sound great."

Iris stared daggers at him. "When Caitlin asks why your ears are bleeding, remember you asked for this!"

"When she asks how I spontaneously ascended into heaven you'll have to tell her I asked for this."

After rolling her eyes, Iris started singing in a low, shy voice.

"L is for the way you look at me O is for the only one I see V is very very, extra ordinary E is even more then anyone that you adore"

She started swaying gently to the beat of the song.

"And love is all that I can give to you love is more then just a game for two two in love can make it take my heart and please don't break it love was made for me and you"

Barry was captivated by his wife's singing. His loving, encouraging stare gave Iris the confidence to get a little louder.

"L is for the way you look at me O is for the only one I see"

Seeing the happiness on Barry's face urged Iris on more. She found her voice and was truly singing now.

"V is very very, extra ordinary E is even more than anyone that you adore"

Iris hopped off the bed. She grabbed her hairbrush off the dresser and pretended it was a microphone.

"Love is all that I can give to you love is more then just a game for two"

"Woooh!" Barry cheered from the bed.

Iris shimmed her shoulders, dancing like an old fashioned lounge singer. Barry was clearly enjoying it, especially since she was wearing nothing but his t-shirt and her panties.

"Two in love can make it Take my heart and please don't break it"

Iris slowly raised her arms in dramatics as she belted out the next line,

"Love was made for me and yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu"

Barry clapped enthusiastically. "Yeeaahhhh!"

Iris jumped onto the bed and stood over Barry's legs.

"Love was made for me and you Love was made for me and yoooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

She flung out her arms when she finished, causing her hair to fly in her face.

Barry applauded. "Bravo! Bravo!"

Iris giggled. He grabbed her down by the back of her knee. She collapsed on him, still giggling. Barry pushed her hair aside and kissed his way down her neck.

"You sounded so good." He whispered in her ear.

"You only think that because you love me."

"Well, how could I resist falling head over heels in love with you, what with your romantic serenade." Barry teased.

"Shut up!"