#does it count if I'm not technically watching it live?

[confused0wl]

Hey Alex what do you mean from five only four remain?!

[fictionalcharacters-mybeloved]

(Be) Satisfied, Danny.

Danny didn't have a good life, he didn't notice it until he grew up, of course, but he noticed it.

He noticed when Tucker's parents did remember his birthday (while his parents were still in the basement, creating the most important thing in their lives).

He noticed it when it was Jazz who healed his wounds when his bullies were especially cruel (and his parents were still in the basement).

He noticed it when he spent hours lost in one of the most dangerous cities in America and the only one who cared (and noticed his disappearance) was Jazz.

And so many more things, Danny noticed all the time that his life was not good, but he had good things.

He had Jazz, space, Tucker, Sam and, at a time that is now a bittersweet and painful memory, he met Bruce.

He knew that talking to and trusting strangers was bad (after Bruce told him so and Jazz repeated it to him), but it was easy to trust Bruce.

He was someone nice who listened to him prattle on for hours about the stars, planets, Nasa and space in general, listened to him with such attention and interest that he just kept talking until somehow they got to his hotel and Bruce left him with Jazz.

Of course, little Danny wasn't about to let his wonderful audience disappear from his. Life so soon after they met, and after quite a bit of insisting (and some crying), they stayed in contact.

Danny kept growing up, of course, and Phantom happened, because he thought meeting Bruce meant life would get better from there, but no, he only had momentary peace.

Bruce noticed his change in behavior (unlike his parents), Bruce who had a life of his own and several children he obviously loved more than anything (not that Danny is jealous of that, not at all), but he noticed the change in Danny.

"I don't even know why I can't-I just-" Danny doesn't finish speaking, she couldn't, not yet. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me." His voice was tearful and shaky.

There is silence on the other end of the call for a few seconds, until Bruce's voice is heard. "You want to talk to me about constellations?" He asks quietly, non-judgmental, non-pushy.

And of course, Danny talks to him for hours about the stars, the shapes of the constellations, their names and their stories, forgetting for brief, wonderful hours everything else, just like when he was ten, and just like at that time, Bruce listened to him as if it was completely new information, as if he didn't already know all that.

Bruce was like... not a father, but like a male figure in his life whom he valued very much.

Danny was not blind, he knew Bruce was not perfect, even if they could only communicate by phone, they had had little disagreements here and there, but they did not walk away, because Bruce listened to him and did not immediately dismiss his words, because he wanted to improve, because Bruce was trying for Danny, and wasn't that a wonderful thought?

Of course, when he was finally planning to tell Bruce about Phantom is when it all goes to shit.

Losing everyone you love and having to run and hide from a freak so you don't turn into a bloodthirsty monster was, to say the least, fucking horrible.

Danny remembers the pain, the feeling of choking, the lump in his throat that wouldn't let him speak, the disbelief, the agonizing need to just disappear, Danny just wanted to close his eyes and die like his family and friends and-

And then his phone rang.

Bruce always had to show up when Danny was lost, right?

He doesn't even remember what he told him on the call or how he spoke in the first place, only that after four years he had Bruce in front of him, talking and promising that he would help him, that he would take care of everything, that he wasn't alone, not anymore.

Of course living in Gotham was quite an adjustment, the moving process made him cry several times, lately he would cry over anything and it was horrible, however, lately he also had Bruce there with him.

They still talked on the phone quite a bit, but now Bruce could also visit him, hug him, comfort him on a particularly difficult day.

Sometimes Bruce would talk to him about what it was like when he lost his parents, about when he lost one of his sons, sometimes they would both end up crying, but they were together and it eased the pain a little.

Speaking in a soft, gentle voice, Bruce would say that the pain would become more tolerable and that one day it would stop tarnishing the good memories, that someday he could put the pictures back on the shelves, that eating would no longer be horrible because eating meat would no longer feel like betrayal and eating vegetarian food wouldn't hurt, that someday he could open a tech magazine and play video games without feeling like he'd never enjoy anything again, that someday he could stop seeing his sister in every redheaded girl he saw on the streets, and that while that was happening, Bruce would be there for him.

And although the pain remained horrible, it became bearable.

There were good days and bad days, but he enjoyed when Bruce could visit.

Danny knew Bruce kept it from his sons more for what he didn't say than what he did say, but he understood and actually preferred it that way, because when Bruce came to the apartment they could both pretend to be father and son (not that they called each other that), without irreparable mistakes or painful loss, at least on particularly good days.

Danny also felt that he was special, that someone preferred him, that plain, boring Danny Fenton was special (even if he wasn't).

Life, for the first time, wasn't bad, it wasn't good either, the pain sometimes wanted to consume him completely some days, he still cried most nights but also... he felt accompanied, loved.

Obviously he felt loved before, his sister, his friends, he knew they loved him, but with Bruce he also felt understood.

He felt (and knew) that Bruce saw him, that he saw the little, idiotic, pathetic, troubled Danny Fenton and decided he was worth it, that when he found out about 'Phantom' he only talked about helping him hide it and, when some time passed, about how smart and talented he was in learning to handle his powers without guidance, that Danny was special because of who he was even before Phantom, powers were nothing without brain, that Phantom was what he was because of the guy behind it.

In turn, Danny saw (and understood) Bruce, the man was always overly worried about those he loves, every little thing, and he was smart, he worried and his treacherous brain wouldn't leave him alone (and that was painfully similar to Jazz).

How could he ask him not to worry when he already found a thousand ways for everything to go wrong and for him to be the one to ruin it?

How could he judge him now that he also knew how much it hurt to lose the ones you love?

So they would talk, it wasn't always easy because Danny was used to not being given so much attention and Bruce could be too controlling, but... well, talking helped a lot, because because they listened to each other, apologizing was easy after talking.

They almost always ended up watching B movies and judging them after they made up, or watching documentaries, because watching them with Bruce was interesting, he always had things to add, interesting fun facts that Bruce enjoyed saying and Danny enjoyed listening to.

Bruce was trying so hard and always seemed to feel it wasn't enough, that Danny couldn't help but resent his sons (the real ones) a little.

Danny knew they were not bad, Bruce always spoke of them with love and so, so much pride, it was always Bruce who was to blame for everything, the bad guy, the villain of the situation...

To Bruce his sons deserved a better father, but if anyone asked Danny, Bruce deserved a better family.

Say no to this, Bruce.

A few days ago Bruce had a fight with his sons, now he doesn't even remember why, it was probably something stupid that escalated and he didn't know how to stop it, it was probably his fault.

He was alone at the mansion, Damian was at Dick's house, Jason was ignoring him more than usual and Tim was on a case where he didn't want help, not from him at least, even Duke was away, it wasn't a good week for Bruce.

He grabbed a phone he had hidden and only took out before going to sleep alone in his room, hesitated for a few seconds and sent a message to the only number added.

His "thing" with the boy, Danny Fenton, had started four years ago, the boy was lost and Bruce found him when he coincidentally went for a walk as a civilian.

Danny was so charmed by Bruce (for some reason) that he gave him his hotel room number to keep talking about the universe, and later his home number.

Danny was a good, funny and witty kid, a very smart too, with parents who didn't deserve him because they didn't notice their son's brilliance.

Danny was a good boy with a not-so-good life, a strong, independent boy who wasn't always positive but didn't always let himself fall apart.

That's why when Danny answered his message with a call with him crying and asking for help, he could only go to his rescue without looking back, barely remembering to tell Alfred of his departure.

When he arrived he found only tragedy.

His family and friends had died, an explosion at an unfortunate time, Danny had no one in the world besides his godfather and Bruce, and he didn't want to fall into Vlad's clutches, so he was desperate.

He also told him about Phantom, and Bruce could only hug him and promise him that no one was going to find him.

The first thing that came to his mind was to take him to his mansion, Danny was like his son, it was the most logical action... except that Danny still looked up to him and trusted him a lot, and wasn't that a scary thought?

Bringing Danny to the mansion would involve many things, Danny would meet his children, which might make Danny see him differently, goodbye to his admiration and affection, goodbye to spending time "together" watching bad movies to criticize them, goodbye to quiet conversations and asking for advice, goodbye to trust.

Bringing Danny to the mansion would mean having him physically close but keeping him away in every other possible way.

"Danny doesn't want anyone else to know about Phantom." Bruce repeated to himself as he took Danny to a small, hidden apartment in Gotham, a cozy little place where Vlad wouldn't find Danny (and neither would Bruce's family).

[riddlesrizzler]

Lost and Found (with ribbons)

summary: Mattheo and his friends find you surrounded by first-years tying ribbons in your ears. characters: slytherin boys. bunny! reader (animagus) warnings: none! just some scary slytherins with their bunny. word count: 596

Mattheo had lost you

Technically, they had lost you. But since he was the one who had let you out of his sight first, he was taking the blame.

"You had one job, Mattheo," Theo muttered, running a hand through his hair. "One job!"

"You were watching her too, mate." Mattheo shot back, scanning the hallways of Hogwarts. "She was right there a second ago!"

"She's a bunny, she's small, she's fast," Enzo reasoned. "She couldn't have gotten far."

Draco signed. "Unless a bloody cat got to her first."

Blaise frowned. "Not helping, Malfoy."

It wasn't unsual for you to slip away in you animagus form- it was cute, they had to admit. A small, fluffy bunny hopping around, nose twitching, ears flickering at the smallest sound. But this was different. You had vanished.

"She's got to be somewhere in the castle," Mattheo said, shaking his head. "She always stays inside."

Theo groaned. "I swear, if we don't find her in the next ten minutes, I'm putting a tracking spell on her."

They turned down another corridor, checking corners, under benches, even behind a suit of armor. Then, just as Mattheo was about to start panicking, Enzo let out a sudden laugh.

"Oh, you're going to love this." He pointed ahead.

There in the middle of the hallway, was a small circle of first- year girls. They were giggling excitedly, whispering to each other, completely oblivious to the group of older Slytherins approaching.

And right in the center of them was... you.

In bunny form.

With ribbons being tied behind your ears.

Mattheo stared. Draco blinked. Blaise covered his mouth, holding back a laugh.

"Oh, that's precious," Theo smirked

One of the first- years clapped her hands. "She's so soft!"

'And she's letting us dress her up!" another squealed.

Mattheo cleared his throat loudly. The girls jumped, turning to face the group of tall, intimidating Slytherins.

"Uh- hello," one of them said nervously.

"That's our bunny," Mattheo said flatly, crossing his arms.

The girls looked between each other, then down at you. You twitched your nose.

"But she came up to us," one of the girls mumbled, hesitantly stroking your fur.

Theo raised a brow. "Yeah, she does that. But we kind of need her back."

Reluctantly, the first-years untied the ribbons, though one of them gave you a soft pat on your head before stepping back. Mattheo crouched down, holding out his arms.

"Alright, sweetheart, time to come back now.

You hesitated for a second, then with a small hop, you leapt into his hands. He stood cradling you gently, running a finger down your soft ears.

"Alright," Blaise smirked, shaking his head." "Let's get her out of here before they try to put a dress on her next."

As they walked away, Theo leaned over to Mattheo. "You know we're never letting her live this down, right?"

Mattheo sighed, looking down at you. Your small paws pressed against his chest as you looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

'Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Just... let's not tell everyone about the ribbons, alright?"

But the smirk on Draco's face said that the secret wasn't staying secret for long.

[1800-fight-me]

Safety in Your Arms

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: M (Mature but as always-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Cursing, threats of violence, stranger danger i.e. stalking but don't worry Logan saves the day Word count: A bit over 2k Synopsis: Logan protects you from the unwanted advances of another man and shows protectiveness and care you didn't know he had for you. Author’s note: I'm thinking this might need a part two, let me know what y'all think- I hope you enjoy! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Logan Howlett Masterlist Main Masterlist

There was a cold panic that shot down your spine. Fight or flight, you’d learned the technical term, but now experienced it for yourself. 

The five minute walk between your work and your apartment had never felt so long. It all started with a creepy customer- which was a regular occurrence at your job- but this customer took it far beyond creepy. 

He tried to make too much small talk, stared too much, made a few too many over the line comments, and was entirely too pushy when asking for your phone number. Your one male coworker escorted him out and you thought that was the end of it. 

Hours went by, you assured your coworkers multiple times that you were fine and you were safe, and eventually you were the last one left to close and lock up. 

But only one block away from your workplace, you had the feeling of being watched- of being followed. And it was just your luck that your phone was dead and you’d forgotten your charger at home.

You changed your route, taking one that was a bit longer but also more well lit and populated. With a glance back you confirmed your worry, that it was in fact the same creepy guy from hours before. 

Your heart pounded with terror as you contemplated every option for safety. Your apartment building required a code to enter, so you sped your walk, hoping if you slipped into the building and shut the door behind you that it would be enough. 

“Hey,” the man’s voice called out, but you refused to look back. 

Your apartment building was within sight, but the man’s catcalls and jeers were also getting louder and closer. 

“Hey, c’mere pretty lady! I’ve got somethin’ for ya!” 

Your whole body shuddered in fear. Your next door neighbor stepped outside of the front door of the apartment building and you nearly sobbed in relief. 

“Logan!” you called out. 

He looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he saw the stress in your entire demeanor. 

You practically ran to him and threw your arms around his torso in a hug he clearly did not expect. He hugged you back, but you felt him stiffen as he looked behind you. 

That was one thing about Logan, he was extremely perceptive and quick to notice any form of danger. 

“Hey bub, what can I do for you?” he said to the man behind you in a gruff tone that was not at all welcoming as he gently maneuvered you so that you stood safely behind him. 

You gripped Logan’s strong bicep as you peered around his shoulder at the stalker. 

“I was just-” 

“Just nothin’. You better leave her alone,” Logan interrupted. 

“C’mon, I was just inviting the pretty lady to have a good time. Does he speak for you?” the creep asked as he made eye contact with you. The malice in his eyes made your heartbeat spike again. 

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said nervously. 

He glanced between you and Logan as if uncertain. 

“She just told you, she’s mine- so fuck off,” Logan growled. A different kind of shiver went down your spine. 

“You live here?” the man asked. 

“No,” Logan growled before you could even open your mouth. “But I do, and if I see you around here again it’ll be a problem.” 

The man looked at Logan and finally seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, the danger that the large muscled man protecting you could pose. 

He gulped and nodded, yielded a step back as Logan took a step forward- muscles tense and fist clenched. 

The man turned and scurried away. You took your first full deep breath in several long minutes. 

Logan watched the man until he was completely out of view before he turned to you. He placed a large comforting hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

“Princess,” he said in a gentle voice. 

He pulled you into a hug as a tear fell from your eye and made its way down your cheek. You were enveloped in his warmth and woodsy masculine scent and finally felt safe. 

“Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend,” you said as you pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“Anytime,” he said with a smirk. Your breath caught and you bit your lip as you looked up at him and saw such care and concern on his handsome face. 

“Who was that guy?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “Some crazy customer from earlier today, my coworker made him leave, but I guess he came back and waited until I was leaving alone….” 

Logan’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. “That motherfucker,” he growled, “I’m walking you to and from work tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“No, I do. And I’ll do it until I’m sure he isn’t gonna bother you anymore. And if he shows up again…” he trailed off as his claws extended from his fist in an action that seemed involuntary due to his rage. 

A shiver ran down your spine. You had no idea Logan felt so protective over you. 

“Thank you,” you said in a soft voice, “I appreciate it.” 

This was not helping your ridiculous crush on your neighbor. From the minute he moved in with your friend Wade, you had heart eyes for him. 

The Wolverine, he took your breath away without even trying. With his large stature, huge muscles, and handsome face- you were a goner. It didn’t matter that he was older, way out of your league, and generally altogether grumpy. You were head over heels for him, and you were certain he had never noticed you before, that he merely thought you were Wade’s annoying friend. 

But you adored him, you adored the gentle heart you knew he buried under that gruff exterior, and displays of protectiveness such as this only proved what an amazing person you already knew he was. 

“I’m headed to meet Wade at the bar, d’you wanna come?” he offered. 

You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be alone after the stress of the day. 

“Lead the way,” you said with a smile. 

—--------

“Look who I brought,” Logan said as you walked behind him into the bar and approached a booth in the back corner. 

He stepped to the side so your friends could see you. Wade, Vanessa, and Dopinder sat at the table, already laughing and drinking beer. 

Wade gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “Princess Cupcake!” 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you and showed your amusement. 

“Hey Wade,” you replied then greeted the others. 

“What? No comeback? I’m hurt! What’s wrong?” he asked, speaking in that way too fast pattern that was his norm. 

Logan placed a hand on your back and leaned down closer to your ear as he asked quietly, “You wanna sit down? I can get you a drink- what do you want?” 

You smiled and sat down as you were told and told him your drink order. 

Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows at you in a rather suggestive manner. 

“What’s up between you and peanut? Did you finally fu-” 

“No,” you interjected quickly. 

“Wade, she’s clearly upset and Logan is helping her,” Vanessa said as she elbowed her boyfriend. 

You sighed and explained the events of your afternoon. During your explanation Logan came back to the table with two drinks and sat next to you. His large form crowded you into the corner of the booth, but you didn’t mind. 

“That motherfucker,” Wade said in anger at the end of your story. Vanessa gave you a look of solidarity, you knew she had experienced plenty of creepy men in her life. 

“That’s what I said,” Logan replied, clearly somewhat amused. 

“We should kill him,” Dopinder said.

“Calm down wannabe-vigilante,” you muttered which caused everyone to chuckle. 

“Don’t worry cupcake, ole honey badger and I will make sure you’re safe,” Wade reassured. 

You nodded and said, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think he’ll return. Logan can be pretty intimidating, it was amazing - I’m sure he scared him off.”

Logan grunted in agreement, although when you looked at him you could’ve sworn there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and the tops of his ears. 

As the evening stretched on, you were thoroughly distracted from your troubles and amused by Wade’s antics and Dopinder’s stories. 

“So, Princess Cupcake, any luck on the dating front?” Wade asked. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt- a nervous habit, and without looking up from the table said, “Nope.” 

Logan let out a soft sigh of what your aching heart could only hope was relief. 

“I’ve never asked, what’s with the nickname?” Dopinder asked. 

You shrugged and gestured to Wade. 

“When Blind Al and I moved into our apartment this sweetie pie here brought us cupcakes!” Wade explained. 

“Good thing it was cupcakes instead of a pie because being constantly called sweetie pie would make me want to die,” you muttered and everyone laughed. 

“What about the princess part though?” Dopinder asked. 

“Just look at her,” Logan mumbled and you and everyone at the table looked over at him in surprise. 

“She’s got that innocent sort of pretty you only see in big bright eyed animated Disney princesses,” Wade said. 

Embarrassed at the attention you changed the subject immediately. Your constant filthy thoughts about Logan proved you were anything but innocent. 

“But why is Logan’s nickname peanut?” you asked quickly. 

Wade shrugged, “Just fits.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. 

You smirked and said, “I bet we could come up with a hundred nicknames for him that would fit better.” 

“Like what?” Wade challenged. 

You glanced over at the large handsome man sitting next to you as your face warmed. 

Daddy was the first word that came to mind. Wade chuckled in a way that made you momentarily worried that mind reading was one of his mutant abilities. 

The silence at the table stretched on, becoming a tad awkward, before you said, “Nevermind I’m not very good with nicknames anyways.” 

“Yeah, it’s probably best to leave choosing nicknames to the professional,” Vanessa said in a joking tone to ease the tension. You shot her a look of gratitude and she winked at you before she effectively changed the subject all together. 

Eventually, after enough drinks and conversation, you declared that it was time for you to go home. 

“C’mon!” Wade protested. “The night has just begun!” 

“I wish I could stay but I’ve got work in the morning.” 

“I’ll walk you home,” Logan said in a soft but firm tone that left no room for argument as he stood and took a step back to give you room to get out of the booth. 

You nodded in agreement and smiled in pleasant surprise as he offered you his arm. You wrapped your arm around his large bicep and linked your elbows as you followed him out into the cold winter air. 

The city glowed in warm orange light that reflected on the wet pavement. Your breath was visible in frostbitten wind, and you shivered slightly which caused you to burrow further into your coat and move closer to Logan and the heat his body provided. 

He then pulled his arm from yours, causing you to momentarily panic, but just as swiftly he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

You smiled and filled the short walk with endless chatter, you used to worry that your yapping irritated him, but the small uptick of his lips- the ghost of a smile- showed fond amusement and filled you with warmth enough to make you forget about the cold. 

“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” Logan asked as you reached the door of your apartment- his apartment door only a few steps away. 

“Eight o’clock,” you replied as you unlocked the door.

“But really, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll see you then,” he interrupted in a tone that indicated you would not win this argument. 

Then he did something you didn’t expect at all, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You grinned, your smile wider than probably ever before as you said, “Goodnight Logan, see you bright and bleary eyed tomorrow.” 

He chuckled as he bid you goodnight and you walked into your apartment and shut the door only after he smiled at you again before disappearing behind his own door. 

You shut your door and locked it before leaning against it. You muffled your squeal of excitement with your hand- all too aware how thin the walls are. The stressful events of the day completely forgotten. 

[sluts4matt]

okay, i feel like this could be crazy? please take this any direction you want. like reader is at a party (like tara’s party) and her and chris get in a fight over a photo that was posted during the party. this has been on the mind, and im just not the correct person to execute this idea. but please take this any direction and change anything, please and thank you! i love your work please keep posting 🫶🏻

JEALOUS

pairing: rough!dom chris x sub!reader

summary: a picture of you a little to close to another guy at tara's 1 milli party is posted on the internet. chris does NOT like that at all and has to teach you a lesson.

warnings: SMUT, rough sex, spanking, degradation, daddy kink, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, light bondage, blindfolding, choking, orgasm denial, pet names, slight dumbification (because i love it so much ), light fluff at the end

word count: 1652

author's note: i really hope i did your request justice @lovelysturniolos i HAD to feed into everyone saying chris and tara would look cute, i'm sorry, sue me. kind, constructive criticism welcome.

"what the fuck is this?" your boyfriend, chris, asks holding his phone to you. his tone wasn't an amused one which was very unlike him. "what?" you mumble, furrowing your eyebrows as you bring yourself closer to his phone.

the two of you had the house to yourself for the evening, and currently sat on the couch in the living room. you looked at the picture, you were wearing your sparkly black dress, the fabric hugging you just right.

you hand was placed on some guys arm. why? you were absolutely hammered and ended up trying to make chris jealous out of your own jealousy. he had been close to tara almost all night, and while his attention was on you, part of you seemed to think he'd rather pay it to her.

you and chris had ended up losing each other within two hours of being there. but when you found him, and he was talking to tara with tha big ass grin of his. the one he always gives you. you couldn't stand it.your hand immediately found the guy nearest you, batting your eyelashes at him while you giggled at the jokes he told.

all in hopes that chris would look over and see, but he never did.

guess a picture was taken though, so you'd still technically be getting what you want. "who the fuck is that guy? huh?" chris demands. "honestly chris? couldn't tell you," you shrug. "but it was someone who was nice to me while my boyfriend was off with another chick," you mumble the last bit, but chris catches it.

the dry chuckle that leaves his mouth sends shivers down your spine, and the way he was staring at you made your stomach feel tight. "i don't give a fuck about tara," he says.

"really? coulda fooled me," you retort. chris' jaw clenched, and he stood up from the couch, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you off the couch.

"where are we going?" you ask as you try to keep up with his large strides. "i'm gonna fuck some sense into you," he states. "and then, we're going to have a little chat about who the fuck you belong to," he tells you, opening the door to his (your shared) bedroom and shoving you inside.

"chris-" "strip," he says, cutting you off. his voice was stern, and left no room for arguments. he walked over to the closet, grabbing the silk ties and blindfolds that sat in a box on the top shelf. you stripped your clothes, watching chris as he got into the box.

"hands behind your back," he commands, walking over to you. "chris-" "shut the fuck up," he snaps. "unless you're gonna say the safeword, please, shut the fuck up," he repeats. you nod your head.

he places the tie over your eyes, and brings your hands behind your back, tying them together. "get on the bed," he tells you, smacking your ass as you walk towards the bed.

you climb onto the bed, sitting in the middle of the mattress. "chris, i-" you're cut off by chris' hand covering your mouth. "if you're gonna be using that mouth, it's gonna be for something useful ma," he tells you. "so, either stop talking, or put that fucking mouth to work," he says.

you nod your head, and chris removes his hand from your mouth. "yes daddy," you mumble. "what was that baby?" he asks, knowing he heard you. "yes daddy," you speak up, earning a satisfied hum from chris.

"that's more like it," he says, taking his shirt off, and kicking his sweats and boxers off. he grabs a pillow from the head of the bed, and puts it under your knees.

"open your mouth," he tells you. and you obey, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. chris grabs the base of his cock and guides it into your mouth.

you swirl your tongue around the tip, kitty licking it. chris grabs the back of your head, and pushes himself into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. "fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good ma," he says, moving his hips and thrusting into your mouth.

he pulls himself out, and smacks your face with his cock a few times. he rubs his tip along your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them. "such a pretty fucking face," he muses, shoving his cock back into your mouth.

he groans as you take him back in, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off. "fucking choke on it baby," he groans, pushing your head further down until his cock hit the back of your throat, over and over again.

you gag on his dick, tears beginning to leak from your eyes, dampening the fabric of the blindfold. saliva dripped down the corners of your mouth.

"fuck, i'm close," he moans. you move your head faster, bobbing your head, gagging and choking on his cock. "shit baby, that's it. gonna cum down that pretty fucking throat," he moans.

he pushes your head down again, and holds you there, letting his cum paint the inside of your throat. "fuck, fuck," he breathes, his chest heaving. he wraps your head in a makeshift ponytail around his hand tugging your head back.

he admires the way the black blindfold contrasts against your tan skin, "so pretty baby, too bad you thought you had to make me jealous to get my fucking attention." he says.

he takes his cock from your mouth and wipes the remaining saliva and cum off on your cheek. "now, i'm gonna fuck some sense into you, and after that, we're gonna talk about why it is you're my fucking girl," he says, pulling you up and positioning you how he wants.

his favorite position had your ass up in the air and your cheek pressed against the mattress. he rubbed your right ass cheek before raising his hand and landing a hard smack down on it. the sound echoed in the room, and the stinging sensation had you moaning because of the pain and pleasure.

"this ass, mine," he says, landing a few more harsh slaps down. "this pussy, mine," he continues, sliding his cock between your folds and pressing the tip at your entrance. "mhm, fuck," you gasp, as chris pushes himself into your cunt.

his right hand finds its way in-between your shoulder blades, shoving you down further as his left hand has a steady grip on your hip. his hips smack against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, accompanied by his groans and grunts and your loud moans. "i wanna hear how good my cock is," chris tells you.

"fuck daddy, so big. feels so fucking good," you moan, gripping the silk fabric tied around your wrists. "so fucking tight, ma," he says, his right hand sliding down to grab the fabric tied around your wrists.

he tugs your body back, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, causing your breath to catch in your throat. his hips move a million miles an hour, chasing his release, choked whines left your mouth that had you gasping for air, drool running down your chin.

"so fucking pathetic, look at ya," he chuckles, watching as you come undone underneath him. "such a whiny bitch, can't even speak." he tugs on the tie again, pulling you up. his left hand slides up to wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly.

"gonna cum daddy," you babble, your high approaching. "no you're not," chris says, denying you of your orgasm. he pushes you back down, pounding into you with no mercy, "chris," you whine. "wanna act like a slut to get my attention, gonna get treated and used like one."

"fuck daddy," you whine, the knot in the pit of your stomach becoming tighter. "chris, please, need to cum," you beg. he moves his left hand up to grip the hair at the base of your skull, "don't you fucking dare," he threatens.

"gotta earn it baby," he tells you. "how do you earn daddy's permission?" he asks.

"please," you moan, unable to think of anything else to say. "not what i'm looking for," he says, bringing his hand down on your ass, leaving a red handprint on your skin. "fuck," you hiss. "daddy," you cry. "please, please, fuck," you beg.

"that's more like it," he grunts. he leans over your body, his left hand reaching up to hold the headboard while his right stays in the same place.

"go on then, cum on my cock," he whispers, biting down on your earlobe, tugging on it. his words send you over the edge, and you come undone underneath him. your pussy spasms around his cock, squeezing and clenching, milking his orgasm from him.

he fills your cunt up, coating your walls white. his thrusts become slower, and the grip he has on your body is softer, until he stops altogether, and pulls out of you.

"good girl," he praises, running his thumb along your entrance, catching the mixture of both of your orgasms and bringing it to his mouth. he sucks the digit clean, humming at the taste.

he lays down next to you, pulling you into him, "now, who do i belong too?" he asks, holding you close. "me," you answer. "mm, and who do you belong too?" he asks, kissing your head. "you," you reply, leaning up to kiss him.

"good girl," he hums, placing a kiss on your nose. "want me to doordash panda express princess?" he asks, nuzzling his face into the conjunction of your jaw and neck. he peppered small kisses making you giggle. "nap first," you tell him.

he nods his head, grabbing the blanket and draping it over the both of you. he presses a final kiss to your temple, whispering, "i love you baby," before the two of you drift off.

tag list:

@sturnioloa @junnniiieee07

[greyyson-but-wrong]

ALIBIS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warning: the winter solider, canon accurate civil war, violence, fighting, swearing, a single sentence hinting that they've fucked in the past lmao, hydra mention, partly edited

summary: you've been living with bucky for the past year, now he's been accused of assassinating the king of wakanda and of course they bring you in as well, but nobody knows who exactly you are

author notes: guys... this isn't a part 2 I actually have no motivation to write that atm icl so have this instead. I'm being so fr I could change one detail about this and have it be part of the same storyline as my previous work but I cba cause then there'll be a bunch of missing context :( hope you enjoy this!!!

word count: 4.6K

"Who the hell is that?"

Tony Stark didn't recognise the woman as he took a peak through the glass of the cell, index finger pointed towards her before moved backward to pinch at his lips. She was perched on the edge of the small bench they had given her, book in hand, leaning forward with her elbows resting against the skin of her thighs. For having just been arrested under the suspicion of harbouring a fugitive, the woman didn't seem too worried, too off-put or irked. She just simply sat there, breathing steady. At the change in scenery outside her window, she looked up only temporarily, the corners of her lips curving upward at the sight of the Iron Man, fingers leaving the paper of her book to wag her fingers in a wave. Tony's eyebrows furrowed at her actions. Suspicious. That's all she was.

Steve moved his eyes from the woman to look towards Tony, hands dug in his pockets, fiddling with the spare lint caught off the inside fabric. "She, is his alibi."

"Come again?"

The solider tilted his head, watching the woman as she went back to innocently reading her book, still as if she wasn't currently in a holding cell under the detainment of the American government. "She's been giving him a home for a year now, feeding him, keeping him stable, stopping him from becoming the Winter Solider."

Tony sighed, lowering his voice. "So why won't she testify again him?"

Steve eyed up the security camera in the corner of the room. It was no doubt someone was watching him on the other side, because while he was an Avenger and allowed somewhat free roaming around the premises, he was still technically a criminal now. They had to have all eyes on him. He had to keep all eyes on her though. "She knows that the government doesn't officially acknowledge the difference between the Winter Solider and Bucky as a person. Until they do that, she's refusing to tell us anything. That includes information about who she is."

"Well, she must have a name."

"She's told us Jane Doe, but, well. We're not stupid." Steve chuckles, shaking his head. "Someone, somewhere has her file, I won't be able to get it for you, though."

Tony Stark shrugs. "I'll get FRIDAY to gather the information about her, for me." He pauses for a second, letting his thoughts gather, letting everything come together in some form. He fiddles with his phone a little, before shoving it back into his pocket, turning to Steve again. "The question is, why is she so protective of him?"

Steve lets out a heavy sigh, eyes moving to watch her. "If only she would tell us."

The glass was soundproof. You knew, because several different groups of people had walked past the locked cell, mouths moving, faces reacting, but you could hear none of it. They had given you a random book to read to pass the time, but you were already about halfway through it and it had only been two hours, by the analog clock that was built into the left wall. The list of people that had walked past ran through in your head in the following order: Maria Hill, Fred the Janitor (he had a mop, so you assumed), a group of lawyers, the Black Widow, Fred the Janitor (again), Agent Ross as part of the CIA, a group of guards who were surrounding T'Challa (who you had made the worst kind of direct eye contact with), a couple more lawyers, then the cherry atop the cake: Captain America and Iron Man. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.

It was obvious it was them because well, fuck, who wouldn't have known it was them? They were Avengers, they had saved the world countless times. They were also the reason Bucky had to run and hide with you, rather than in a much safer Witness Protection programme. They were also the reason you were trapped in this holding cell, because Captain America had led the Romanian police force directly to the apartment you had Bucky had been peacefully living in for a year.

The peace died pretty quickly when you had walked into your kitchen to find Steve Rogers standing there, shield in hand, looking at the photo of you and Bucky stuck to the fridge.

They had asked for your name. They had asked for your identification and your history. Perhaps a couple years ago you would have told them, but then all that information was revealed about Shield and Hydra, and now there was no way on God's Holy Earth would you ever trust them nor any government body again. After what Bucky had gone through, after what you had gone through, how could they have led Hydra infiltrate Shield like that? Black Widow thought that the encrypted versions of the files would mean the general public wouldn't be able to gain the information.

But you had been trained by Hydra. You weren't their brawn, you were their brains, so if anyone was going to be able to decrypt that information, it would have been you. When you spent hours scouring through the endless files to find out information about his life, that had been the day you had decided to never trust a government body.

So, no, you weren't going to tell them your name. Then they would look you up. They would find out that you used to work for Hydra and just like they were treating Bucky, they wouldn't understand you had been brainwashed and tricked and tortured to work for them. They would treat you like any other Hydra worker who knew what they had been doing; even though you didn't.

Now you were stuck in this cell, Bucky was nowhere to be seen and therefore probably in some containment centre to stop him from hurting anybody even though he wasn't the Winter Solider anymore. Even though he hadn't become the Winter Solider in months, thanks to the work you had been doing with him. What were you supposed to do? Anything you could talk about or tell anyone, they wouldn't believe it. To them, Bucky was a weapon, something that could hurt and couldn't love, but he did love. He had humour, he had a laugh, a smile, he stops in the middle of the street to stroke stray cats, he gets all soppy at cozy rom-coms and he spends his evenings listening to old Sinatra records.

But they would never see that.

Then Captain America and Iron Man walked in front of the glass. You couldn't help but grin, waving your fingers towards the billionaire. It was public knowledge that Tony Stark was on the side of signing the Accords and that Steve Rogers wasn't. It piqued your curiosity as to how they were able to have a real conversation while having such different beliefs, but that wasn't your main goal. You wanted to confuse them.

The name. Jane Doe, of course it was fake. You had told them it to be confusing, make it clear that you were more than just simply a safe house holder for the Winter Solider. What it would do was bring up all the attention towards you. The Avengers, the CIA, the FBI, whoever was in charge here would spend their time figuring out who the hell you were and why you had been so involved in Bucky's life in the past year. To cause a bit of a ruckus, and a lot of confusion.

Because while they would be doing all of that, Bucky's trial would be put off longer and longer, until your people could prove that the Winter Solider was not the same person as Bucky. You were refusing to talk not just because they didn't understand that simply fact, but you also needed time to gather enough evidence that it would be impossible to dismiss the truth. You were not the Huntress that Hydra had turned you into, and Bucky was not the Winter Solider they had tortured him into becoming. Once they understood that, maybe, just maybe, you had a chance of getting out of here with Bucky and living free with him like you should have been doing for the past year.

Hydra had taught you well. Half of the data was already sat in your lab in Romania, proving that brain mechanics, movement, thoughts and procedures changed whenever he was under the throes of the Winter Solider. Pictures and files dating each time Hydra experimented their brainwashing technology on him. Images of the different machinery, some of them with him in it, some of you working at the nearest computer.

Your work from the past year had taken a lot out of you, but damn was it worth it. Once your people took a look at the final conclusions and sent through the final part of the plan, you and Bucky would be one step closer to freedom.

They bought you in for his evaluation. He was in a glass box, restrained at every possible part of his body, particularly the metal arm. His head was hung, hair falling not-so-graciously in front of his face, masking him. The image was projected onto a giant monitor towards the front of the room, where everyone could see what was happening. They still had you handcuffed, behind your back, something strong, perhaps vibranium so you couldn't get out no matter what. Four guards stood around you, stopping any possible escape plan. But none of them were even on the table unless you knew where to find Bucky and guarantees you got out with him by your side.

To the left of you and the guards stood Tony and Natasha, both on the side agreeing with the Accords. Behind a glass door was Steve and Sam. As his evaluator started speaking, your eyes began to droop. Nobody would take this serious, or how they should.

"Hello, Mr Barnes." A Sokovian accent was the first thing you spotted. Nothing too out of the ordinary but it definitely piqued some form of interest in you for a reason you hadn't yet been able to decipher. "I have been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?" On the screen, he gestured to the chair and desk. When Bucky stayed silent, he sat down, opening up his briefcase that had been placed on the wood of the desk. "Your first name is James?"

Bucky stayed silent again. You knew this would be difficult, and everyone else in the room was beginning to catch onto that point as well.

"Do you know where you are, James?" Again silence. The examinations officer sighed. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

A brief pause. Bucky lifted his head, revealing his face to the officer. He swallowed, lips parting to speak. "My name is Bucky."

In the other room, behind the glass, Steve and Sam, plus a woman that you didn't know the name of yet, started speaking. They all had that look on their face. Curiosity, suspicion, a tint of fear muddled in with the rest. Steve was fiddling with a piece of paper, could have been a photo, but it was difficult to see from the angle the guards had you at.

"Tell me, then, Bucky." He started speaking again, making notes in that little book of his. "You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

Bucky's voice was strained as he spoke, eyes droopy, that fear, that pain having seeped it's way back into his features. The same state of mind that you and him had worked so hard to leave in the past. It was just being dug back up again, unmercifully. "I don't wanna talk about it."

He waved his hands about, barely visible through the screen projection. "You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop." He was intentionally poking the bear.

A moment paused. The examinations officer looked down to the left of his notebook to a propped up screen, the camera to far away to read what was visible on the screen. "Don't worry. We only have to talk about one." Another second passed, then—

The lights went out.

The next couple moments were a blur. Agent Ross started pacing between different computers, Tony Stark went off to talk to his AI, Natasha had already left the room. Steve had stood up straight at the outage, looking towards the woman and immediately signalling at Sam to following him. Believe me, you tried to stay put, not let anything get any worse than it already was, but Steve clearly knew where Bucky was, and if what you thought was happening was happening, then they needed you. So you spotted as one of the guards slipped, moved out of space for a single second, distracted, and you bled into the shadows, melting away so that no one could follow you. Hydra didn't simply train you with hardware and software, after all.

You slipped through and into the glass room, then again through the door that Steve had just disappeared through. Once you were in a clear corridor with both Steve and Sam at the end of it, you began running after them, pausing for just a single second to use a door handle to break the handcuffs that were restraining you.

Because, of course, the examinations officer wasn't CIA, or FBI, or actually from the UN like he said he had been. You knew you recognised the book, the red leather front and that stupid fucking black star painted on it. Your own fucking writing was in it! How the hell this man had gotten a hold of it, you couldn't figure out, but that wasn't the priority. Right now, the Winter Solider was being summoned, and would be under the control of some random person, who was also probably at the fault of T'Chaka's death too. Only God knew what he was really planning, but Bucky would be at the heart of it and that was the one thing you aimed to stop.

Eventually, you caught up with Steve and Sam. It took them both a while to clock you were running behind them but neither of them cared enough about you in the moment to stop running because you all had the same goal: finding Bucky.

The three of you made it to the entrance of whichever room Bucky had been put into. Steve came to a halt at the seemingly endless pile of bodies on the floor. It was too late. He was already the Winter Solider and he had already hurt people.

Steve turned to you, chin held high. "How the hell did you get out?"

"Slipped away." You shrugged. Steve's lips parted as if to speak again, but you held a hand up, shaking your head. "But that's not what's important right now. Bucky has just become the Winter Solider again, and if we don't get to that man in order to save Bucky again, then we're all going to be in a lot of trouble and not just with the government this time."

He ran a hand over his face but nodded, turning back towards the doorway.

In the middle of the room, Zemo was curled into the floor, shaking. Steve didn't give you nor Sam any chance to do anything, running forward and picking him up, shoving him up against the desk, chin held high as he began to speak. You were so focused on Zemo, that you didn't notice Bucky standing in the corner of the room, shoulders dilating as he panted, fully reformed back into the Winter Solider. You also didn't see as he made a leap towards Steve, shoving him across the room at lightning speed.

At the sound of Steve crashing against the wall, you leaped too, in a way that left your hands rested on his shoulders, readying to pull off. All three of you had the serum, but they were still both men, and Bucky under the brainwashing programme gave him extra strength, no holding back. When his trapezius twitched and his jaw sharpened, you knew he was going to swing behind him, so you ducked, dodging his hand and using the temporary drop in his barriers to reach for his arm, curling it around his back.

His metal arm was still pressing against Steve, so with your hands still keeping his flesh arm behind his back, you leaped up and wrapped your legs around his waist, your other hand moving around him to cover his face. Confusion, distraction, anything that meant Steve could get himself out of the grasp Bucky had him in.

And while Steve did make it out, slipping from his grasp, Bucky caught on far too quickly. He was able to maneuver himself to make you fall, spinning on his feet and falling to his knees as your back hit the ground. He went for your hands, clasping them above your head so there was no way to get out. This position certainly wasn't unfamiliar, but every other time, you knew he would let you go at a signal. The Winter Solider would not listen to a signal. He climbed your body, eyes meeting yours straight forward.

They were pained. A familiar warmth that looked like home but only once you dug deep. On the surface was simply a message, follow the mission, the unfamiliar blue did scare you. The only thing that kept you going was the knowledge that Bucky was in there somewhere, no matter how much it didn't seem like it — Bucky was there. You'd get him out, or die trying.

"Bucky—" You gasped, gaping for breath, trying to get his attention. His, not the Winter Solider. "I know you're there. I know you can hear me."

He simply snarled, teeth bared. You lifted your head to look outside of his gaze, seeing Sam and Steve after Zemo, who had given in not so quickly. Looking back towards Bucky, you met the blue again, letting your head drop to the floor, letting your muscles relax, your breathing beginning to settle as you calmed. If you were calm, then so was he. If he was calm, then so were you. That was the deal. But that did nothing, if anything it worsened the situation, because he removed his metal hand from holding yours, still able to keep you bound with just one, and moved the metal so that it was pressed up against your neck.

Not pushing, not squeezing; just settled. Acting as a warning, to make sure you didn't try anything.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes but— everyone calls you Bucky and you can't remember why." You speak, more wary of your breathing than you ever have been before. A quick glance downward, then back up to meet his eyes. "Your favourite singer is Frank Sinatra, but you think musically, Nancy Sinatra did better work. You—" You gasped for air as his fingers twitched around your neck, your words beginning to break through. "There's a cat, you call her Alpine, that always stops at our window and you shouldn't feed her— because she's not our cat, but— you do any way— because you're secretly a softie."

Bucky blinks. Bucky blinks. Not the Winter Solider. The warmth slowly flows towards the front of the blue, that familiarity coming back.

But that's what Steve didn't see. Steve handed Zemo over to Sam to get rid of then turned to see the Winter Solider choking you, so he leaped towards the two of you. The shield bashed against Bucky's side, knocking him over. Just as he was ripped from your sight, you saw the blue darken again, and Bucky was gone.

"He's making his way to the helipad—" Steve spoke, storming in the direction of the mentioned exit, not even sparing you a glance as he passed you.

The fight had gone shit. Sam had been sent after Zemo and had no luck, the man seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth. Everyone had had their turn at Bucky, only making things worse, only escalating things. You had managed to pull Black Widow away from the solider, pushing her to the side and running after Bucky as he fled. Then Iron Man had wanted a turn, half suited and dodging a bullet that Bucky had managed to aim in his direction. Steve had been in and out of everything, and was now on his way to following Bucky as he attempted to escape.

You hadn't seen Steve since he had knocked Bucky away from you in the bunker. Now he was storming away from you and you had some less than pleasant words that he definitely needed to hear. "Steve, I swear to God, what the fuck—" You paused, still walking after him and scoffing as he simply continued walking. "I had him! I had Bucky back and you ruined it! What right do you even have protecting him or me like that?"

It was a stupid thing to say. You knew that him and Bucky had been inseparable during the war, because who didn't? You knew that he was risking his power as Captain America in order to protect Bucky from prosecution.

Steve paused, turning around and finally facing you, pointing an index finger at you in a accusatory act, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but Bucky is my best friend and I will do anything to make sure he's safe. So don't bullshit me with who deserves him more, because I don't know a single good thing you've done for him in the past 100 years."

You grit your teeth, fighting off a groan. Just about to reply, movement in your peripheral shifted your attention, seeing the solider swing open the door to a free helicopter. "Steve, quick—"

He followed where you were looking, and at the realisation that there wasn't time for a spat, you both started running, outside and onto the helipad. Bucky knew how to work it, getting the vehicle up in no time. Steve leaped, grabbing the landing skids, attempting to pull it downward. Bucky saw, shifting so the helicopter moved away from Steve. You reached for Steve's spare hand, using your joint strength to further pull the helicopter towards the concrete.

Bucky shouted, again shifting and this time behind successful. The helicopter was dragged towards the edge, Steve dropping your grasp and having no choice but to latch onto the yellow railing around the edge of the helipad.

"Let me help!" You shouted, rushing forward and pulling on his hand, you in turn, starting pulling both Steve and the helicopter away from the direction it was heading towards. Knees pressed against the concrete, you grabbed onto the railing as a fail safe, which eventually came in handy as the helicopter tugged the two of you and Steve away from the ground.

You were dangling in mid-air, hand in hand with the Captain America, attempting and failing to pull Bucky back to the ground. What the fuck? What the actual fuck. Steve caught your eyes, a mouthed 'tug on three, yeah?' You nodded in return, and he began to shout over the whirring of the main motor. "One—" You were latched onto the yellow railing, securing your grip. "Two—" It was a struggle, but it seemed possible. Or at least, you tried to tell yourself that. "THREE!"

Steve pulled, as did you, a sudden, unexpected tug. It sent pressure through the helicopter, a shift that Bucky couldn't predict and therefore couldn't avoid. The vehicle stuttered, and lost momentum, crashing into the side of the railing. Rubble was everywhere, you had lost Steve's hand and he was nowhere to be seen.

The helicopter creaked as it collided with the concrete. Then it slipped, stuttered, and slowly dropped from the ledge, falling into the river below.

Bucky groaned, muscles aching. His eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the stern looks of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, both with their arms crossed over their chests. He spluttered a cough out, pushing himself to sit up. As the two stayed quiet, Bucky let himself look around the room. Leant against the far brick wall, was your body, limp and still unconscious. At the sight of you, Bucky sat up fully, pushing himself up and moving towards you.

Steve stepped to the left, blocking his path. "Hold it—"

"Let me get to her, Steve." Bucky pleaded, voice wavering in fear of the way she was so limp against the wall, a hand held out pointing towards her. "I need to check she's okay. If she's not— I don't— She has to be okay, just let me ch—"

The captain cut him off, a hand held up to cease his speech. "She's okay, trust me. You can go see her in a second, we just have a couple questions, first."

Bucky swallowed, nearly glaring up at Steve. He shrugged. "Go crazy."

"What's your name?"

He scoffed, shoulders shaking, eyes never leaving yourself. "Bucky Barnes."

"When were you born?" He was being very very quick with these questions. Bucky found it almost demeaning, but under the circumstances and taking into consideration the entire situation, he became a bit more empathetic.

"March 10th, 1917."

Steve swallowed, allowing two quick glances, one toward Sam stood next to him, and then behind him to where you were still unconscious. "Tell me something only Bucky would know."

Bucky sighed, shoulders deflating and finally being able to draw his gaze away from you, meeting Steve's. "Your mom's name was Sarah. You used to put newspapers in your shoes—"

At Sam's small chuckle, Steve held a hand out, pausing him. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry for the paranoia, but with the fight that just broke out, I hope you can understand why. I swear, we've done our checks and she's really alright but you go ahead."

"Thanks." He nodded curtly, rushing towards you and falling to his knees. He pushed your hair back from your face, hands pressed against your cheeks, examining your face.

Steve, arms crossed again, looked to face him. "Who even is she?"

Bucky grinned, forehead pressed to yours, letting out a deep sigh as his conclusions came back that nothing was inherently wrong, you simply needed to wake up. "She's my saviour. She is the reason I'm still alive, that I'm not a slave for Hydra anymore." Pulling back, he sought Steve for a reason. In the small moment he was looking away, you twitched, gasping for air and eyes flicking open, regaining consciousness.

"James—"

At the breathe of your name, he spun, eyes widening at the sight of you awake. Immediately, he pulled you into him, arms around your torso, chest flush against his. You sighed, realising he was here, and safe, and not the Winter Solider. His face pressed against your neck, warm breath jarring against the cold of wherever the safe house was.

He sighed contently into your neck. "You're okay, doll, you're okay. Are you okay? How—"

Pulling back, you laughed, palms moving to press against his cheeks. "Am I okay? Oh, James, I swear. Are you okay? You're the one that was triggered, how do you feel?"

"A bit shaken." He spoke, breathing calming down. "But alive, and happy you are too."

"Good."

Sam cleared his throat, and the two of you were brought back to reality. Steve hid a chuckle behind a cough and in order to force the awkwardness to dissipate, he took over the room, setting about recap of the circumstance and what the next plan of action was. It would be a lot of work, but anything to make sure Bucky was free.

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! lemme know if yous want a part 2 or want me to create a tag list or anything any support is appreciated 👏

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEGGING FOR A SUGURU VERSION OF THE SATORU HANDS ONE AND MAYBE PT 2 OF THE SATORU ONE ??

Omg now I'm thinking of satosugu

ANYWAYS ILY CINNA, THANKS FOR BEING THE BEST!

Their Plaything

Tags: SatoSugu x Reader, nsfw, mdni, hand kink, size kink, finger sucking, this might be controversial lol

An: I LOVE YOU NEPOBABYYYY THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING <3

Living with the two strongest sorcerers in the world should be chaotic, right?

Wrong.

Well, actually… maybe you’re right.

But if there’s one thing about Satoru and Suguru, they try to protect you from their lifestyle at all costs. If they come home beaten and bloodied from a mission, they’ll still be laughing and reassuring you that their wounds don’t hurt that bad.

They never ever talk about the horrors they face. It’s none of your concern. Even if it’s patronizing to think the way they do, they don’t want you to deal with the emotional turmoil and stress that they have to. So, they make their jobs look easy.

Oh yeah, and that king of curses guy?? They’d definitely beat him. It’s really no sweat.

Even though they try to protect you from the horrors of jujutsu sorcery, they absolutely love when you worry about them. You’re the only person in the world that still treats them like they aren’t invincible, and they find it endearing.

Besides, after a long mission, all they really need is you.

Suguru loves to dote on your face. His oversized palm would cup your cheek, adoring how you nuzzle into his touch like a cat. His hand is bigger than your face, and it’s calloused too. His fingers are thick.. to the point where it almost hurts when he stretches you out, but it’s the best type of pain. His veins are bigger than Satoru’s. Even though Satoru is technically taller, Suguru is just stockier built.

He counts his blessings while thinking about how soft your skin feels. All this work he does… all the terribly corrupted things he’s seen is worth it to come back home to you.

His favorite is when you sit on his lap facing away from him and allow for him to play with your hair. You fit so nicely in his lap. His body can nearly encompass yours. He’ll rake his fingers through your hair for hours before his hands settle on your hips. His thumbs find the dimples in your back, and he just holds you to him.

Satoru is a bit different in his approach. He’ll hold his palm out for you to rest your chin on, and when you flutter those pretty eyes to look up at him, he can’t help but to indulge you in a kiss.

He’ll get on his knees in front of you and Suguru, and his hands trail down your body while you’re sat in Suguru’s lap. He’ll grope your thighs and massage your calfs while pressing kisses to whatever body part you’ll allow him to.

Satoru and Suguru are mischievous. They’ll do subtle things to turn you on — on purpose, and when you get all needy, they’ll tease you about being an insatiable pervert. When in reality, they’re the ones who were horny in the first place. Can you blame them? Being without their plaything for days while they’re on missions is like cruel and unusual punishment.

It starts off usually with Suguru. While playing with your hair, he’ll subtly give you a small tug. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Did I pull? I didn’t mean to.” He’ll whisper softly into your ear, knowing you get all squirmy when his breath fans across your skin.

It works every time without fail. You go to wiggle away from him, but his large hands hold your hips in place. “Ah, ah, princess, don’t run from me. I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Let me have this.”

Before you know it, his hands are back in your hair, subtly tugging on it. He subtly smirks to himself as he hears your breath becoming more pressured.

Satoru knows all of Suguru’s tricks by now, and he immediately follows suit. He reaches up to cup your cheek. At first, it’s completely innocent. His thumb will trace soft lines into your skin while he watches as your face becomes more and more flushed.

“Don’t get too worked up now, sweets.” Satoru teases before he places his pointer and middle finger up to your lips. “We just missed you.” He says with a grin as you absentmindedly open your mouth and accept his fingers in.

Your mouth is so damn warm and wet. He can immediately start to feel his pants getting tight. He’ll subtly grunt as he watches you suckle and bite on his fingers. Nothing else in the world matters right now. All the hard work, blood, sweat, tears is for purely this… so he can come home and watch you live without a care in the world.

Suguru’s hands will subtly start to guide your hips. It’s so minuscule that you don’t even realize that you’re rocking back and forth right against his cock. Soon enough, you’re completely moving back and forth on your own, grinding against him until you’re soaked through your panties.

When you start to whimper and whine around his fingers, Satoru will pull them from your mouth. “What is it, sweets? Don’t tell me you’re feeling needy.” He taunts as he stands up from his knees, forcing you to look up at him instead of his cock that was tented in his pants.

“Yeah darling, we just got home… We just wanted to love on you.” Suguru chimes in before pulling your hair a bit more.

“You just see us as sex objects, don’t you? Just two cocks to fulfill those sick thoughts in your head.” Satoru immediately speaks up, not giving you a chance to defend yourself.

They’re so damn unrelenting. When both of them are together, you never have a chance for rest. It’s like they feed off each other’s energy and dispel it onto you.

“N-no, I… you two started it” You whine, trying to defend your case against them.

“Oh? You’re gonna deny it while grinding yourself against my cock? No one made you do that, darling.” Suguru whispers into your ear, making you shiver again.

“And what about sucking on my fingers? No one made you do that either.” Satoru pats the top of your head with his hand. “You’re so needy. I bet if I placed my dick right against your lips, you’d accept that too without question.”

Your hips immediately halt, and both of the men just laugh at you. “No, no, don’t stop now. You might as well get yourself off.” Suguru’s hands wrap back around your hips, forcing you to move back and forth against him again.

Satoru fumbles with his belt, and he tests his theory from earlier. Once his cock is out, he presses his tip right against your lips, and sure enough, your mouth opens right up for him.

“Good girl.” Satoru praises in a breathy groan while rubbing your hair.

“Such a good girl.” Suguru echos Satoru’s praise, whispering right into your ear as you struggle to take Satoru’s cock.

So, things aren’t too bad while living with the two strongest sorcerers. As long as you like being toyed with by both of them at once.

[olsenmyolsen]

A**holes With Cameras

master list

dark master list

Actress AU (Female Reader X Actress Wanda Maximoff) I know, I know! another one??? yes!!!

Summary: As you head to your new gym, you spot your favorite actress and an annoying member of the paparazzi.

Word Count: 2.7K

Content: Fluff, paparazzi, men, flirting

You sighed as you finally parked your car after trying to parallel park on the street for about five minutes. 

It was Wednesday.

What should be the third day of your workout week was actually your first. You had been too tired to go on Monday, and honestly, yesterday, you didn't remember your promise to yourself until you were brushing your teeth after dinner.

But now here you were at the gym.

Well, technically, you were still outside of it. But this had been the closest you had been to a gym in a while.

And it's not like you were unhealthy or that you lived a terrible diet or life. It's just that you wanted to help your body before it was too late. Plus, if your Almond Mom made one more comment during your monthly FaceTime call, you would actually lose it.

So here you sat in your car on the outskirts of the city of stars outside of a gym your friend of a friend Darcy Lewis hooked you up with.

However, before you could step out, a man in an ugly shirt and fugly jeans ran up and placed his body onto the hood of your car. "What the fuck!" You yelled as the man pulled out a camera with a long lens and zoomed in on a person walking across the street at the end of the block.

An Emmy Nominated Actress and the internets Mother: Wanda Maximoff.

You found yourself stunned to see her as you looked out and to the back from your driver's side window. Your mind thinking of every piece of media and content you LOVE! While the other part of you is squealing on the inside as your stomach does flip after flip.

How the fuck was she a model in just street clothes and gym wear???

Your thoughts of Wanda came to a screeching halt when, all of a sudden, you heard this agitating male voice. "Come on, Wanda! Smile for once!" The man on the hood of your car moved off and took picture after picture of Wanda as she passed by and entered your new favorite gym.

The sight and grin of the bald man made your blood boil.

So, as he admired his pictures, you honked your horn and gave him a good scare before grabbing your phone and water bottle and exiting your car. "What the hell was that?"

The man looks you over and tilts his head. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse me?" You mock back. "Yeah, excuse you, dude! First, you climb all over my car that I'm still actively paying off! Then you just harass and take pictures of somebody??" You bark at the man as you walk onto the sidewalk.

"Chill, it's just pictures." He rolls his eyes and starts walking away from you. "Still not right, you asshole!" You yell even if you secretly love them whenever you see them on social media. But you raise your head high and watch the man walk away before you enter the gym.

The lady behind the desk looks at you with a smile. "You tell him!" She sends you a thumbs up as you smile and shake your head before scanning the special gym card Darcy had to give you.

It was metal. Like what??

Anyways. You smile and walk into the large, spacious gym. It plays quiet music as you step onto the floor. Mostly, everybody you walk past on the way to the treadmill is too busy with their music and AirPods.

Shit, you forgot yours.

You sigh, hating the thought of being alone with your own ones. Still, you set your phone and water bottle down as you hit some buttons on the treadmill. "Woah!" You jolt as the belt suddenly kicks the speed up as it slowly starts.

You chuckle nervously to yourself and look around in case anyone saw you.

No one did but one person.

But they'll show up in a second. Because right now, your eyes found the bald-ass paparazzi douche through the window waiting across the street. You let out a deep, upset sigh through your nose and gave him a glare he couldn't see before your view became obstructed.

A side profile from a face sculpted by the goddesses themselves distracts your pretty eyes as Wanda Maximoff sets up on the treadmill next to you.

She briefly glances at you before she puts in her AirPods and starts up her treadmill. You don't mean to, but you stare longer than you should before finding yourself moving down the treadmill.

You snap out of her stunning trance on you and begin your workout.

Although you'd be lying if you said it was easy to concentrate on anything other than the tremendous and beautiful Wanda Maximoff. Because your eyes kept moseying on back to her again and again, you tried to stop and be normal, but your thoughts became clouded with questions.

Should I say hi?

Do I even talk to her?

How is her garden doing?

Will she ever stop wearing that row bag?

"Excuse me?" The voice of an angel forces your eyes up and over. Wanda Maximoff removes an AirPod from her ear and looks at you before she starts speaking again. "You're the one who yelled at the paparazzi, right?"

Wanda knew it was you. She watched you yell at him before she scurried off earlier.

You nod. "Ye-yeah, that was me!" You immediately feel embarrassed by your overzealous nature before closing your eyes and sighing. You open them back up and smile at Wanda, who has the corner of her lips curled up. "Yes, that was me."

Wanda nods. "Well, thank you. It's awful to deal with them." She says as you nod. You could imagine. Her twin brother Pietro also deals with it. The Maximoffs are kind of a household name after their sister Polaris started on a show when she was a baby. "Yeah, I'm sorry you have to." You politely respond and give her a sympathetic smile before she waves you off. "I chose to become famous."

"Yeah, but that doesn't give those assholes with cameras any right." You speak, making her pull her lips in with a surprised look. "Sorry." You say after a second or two. But Wanda shakes her head. "No, you're completely right. Sorry for my face. It's just... it's just nice to have someone be so candor..."

You knew all about Wanda's ex and how they cheated on her.

You offer a smile before looking at the window. Wanda doing the same following your eye-line. "Well, it appears I didn't tell him off enough." Wanda hums and turns back to you. She looks at her AirPods. "Do you want one?"

The bald man leaves your eyesight as you look at the darling actress of your life. "I- uh, no, yeah. Yeah. Thank you." Your hands shake slightly as you take it and place it in your right ear. Wanda notices the nervousness coming from you but doesn't want to bring it up and make it worse. "Do you have anything in particular you'd like to listen to?" She asks, her voice soft after speeding up her treadmill

"No. I'm down for whatever." You answered honestly as your brain caught up to the fact that you were talking and being friendly with THE Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda hits shuffle on her Spotify before looking up to you. "Well, I hope you like The Guardians." She says as an 80's inspired synth slowly starts filling your ear before an electric guitar breaks through and a man's voice starts singing about his girlfriend. "I've never heard them!"

Wanda looks back at you. "What!?" She looks shocked. "Peter Quill, Drummer Drax, Guitarist Gamora..?" Wanda says, hoping that something would click by offering you some context of the band members.

You shake your head.

Wanda grabs her phone. "Oh my gosh. Okay. I know what we're listening to!" She queues up the band's first album, simply titled Vol. 1.

You can't help but smile.

Fuck she really was as lovely and as charming as everyone always described her.

"I've become obsessed." She says, putting her phone down. "I can tell." You joke, making her playfully roll her eyes.

Was this flirting? Oh god, am I finally doing it??

"Carol Danvers got me hooked onto them."

That name made a ding go off in your brain, and words fell from your mouth before you could stop them.

"Oh yeah, you're doing a movie together!"

You tensed up quickly after saying that. Now Wanda would know you were not just a regular fan or avid watcher. You were an 'I have updates on my phone about things you do' type of fan.

Wanda looks to you before turning down the music one or two clicks. "Oh... I didn't realize you were such a fan." She says a little coldly to her warm words from moments ago. You stumble over your words. "Yeah- no, I mean, yes, I am a fan and know who you are, but- j- just forget I said anything or ruined this nice moment." You close your eyes and feel awful before turning away to avoid her precious green eyes if they looked at you.

The music goes back up with a click.

You sigh.

And a moment passes.

"We actually finished the movie already." Wanda offers, making you look back at her. "Oh really?" She nods, and you can tell in those same green eyes that the moment between you two isn't lost. "So, a fan, huh?" You nod sheepishly as her eyes look over your face. "I would've yelled at the asshole outside regardless of if it was you or not, by the way."

Wanda likes that and chuckles a little bit. "Well, I appreciate that. Is he still there?"

You look at the window and nod. "Well, you can yell at him some more later when you walk me to my car," Wanda says without facing you. She bites back a smile. You feel your cheeks flush. "You got it." You say and focus on getting your steps in as your face reddened.

"By the way..." You look to your left. "It's okay that you're a fan, honestly. It's just sometimes nice to forget and... and to have people talk to you for you." You nod and, after a couple of quiet seconds, stick your hand out to her. "I understand. I'm Y/n."

Wanda realizes she never got your name and sends an apologetic smile. "I'm Wanda." Her soft hand shakes yours before letting go. The touch sends shivers down your sides before you smile. "Let me guess." You start. "You have the look of someone who sings for a living?" Wanda smiles and lets out a loud laugh. Shaking her head and ducking her face when people around the gym look to her. "How did you guess?" She says, making you shrug with a grand look and smile. Enjoying this second chance. Even as you two lie about her profession. "Just had a feeling."

That feeling would transform into jokes and continuous small talk as you two completed your workouts together. Well, actually, you just did whatever Wanda did, which was a struggle. Her past roles in those superhero movies really upped her body fitness.

"So, how come I've never seen you at this gym before?" Wanda asked as sweat covered the both of you while she refilled her water bottle. "Did you just move here?" Wanda asks with a glint in her eyes. You shook your head. "No, I live around." You missed a smile Wanda got for one second. "I know a friend of a friend, and they got me in." Wanda nods. "Well..." She puts the top on her bottle. "I'm glad I got to meet you."

"Me too." You say like that wasn't evident as you hide your blush. But Wanda sees it like all the other ones today. Wanda knows and shares the friendly/flirty smile you send her before she leads the two of you to the doors outside.

"Shit, I almost forgot about him," Wanda mumbles as the egghead starts to take pictures of the two of you. Wanda, putting on her sunglasses, gestures for you to follow her. You join in step with her.

"Just ignore him." She mumbles as you walk closer and closer to her car. And you do ignore him and his need for attention until you feel like he crosses a line.

He brings up Wanda's ex, and you see her cringe and tense up. "It's old news! Now come on and smile!" He shouts and treats her like a dog, sending you into a blind rage as you, without thinking, shove your phone and water bottle into Wanda's hand and turn back to the man several yards away.

"Hey, Blob!" You shout, attacking how he looks. Which you would never do but fuck he deserved it as you stepped closer and closer. The man drops the camera from his eye to around his neck as Wanda and him watch you encroach. "Leave Wanda the fuck alone before the last thing that camera sees is your ass!"

The man sneers. "Touch me or the camera, and I'll see you in court." You watch him smirk and go to lift his camera back up. "That's what I thought."

Wanda watches it all unfold as you look back at her and at the man before you lift your hand. Careful not to touch him or his stupid ass camera but instead the strap around his neck. Wanda watches as, with one simple click, the strap comes undone, and his camera slips out of his hand.

Smashing onto the floor.

The man stands shocked at the damage before he steps forward. "I didn't touch you." You say with a shit-eating grin. "You fucking wrecked my camera!?" He cries out, making you smile wider. "No, I didn't. You dropped it."

You are never one for confrontation or smug comments, but there was something about Wanda and this disgusting man that made your need to protect shoot off like a flare in the night.

Plus, maybe that feeling of justice sent you flying back to Wanda's side.

"I've thought about doing something like that a million times." She beamed to you. Through her sunglasses, you couldn't tell how her eyes glossed over your face, but watching you now, something had changed for Wanda. "Well, I'm glad to make your dreams come true."

Wanda laughed as the two of you walked back to her car. Not caring for the man crying on the sidewalk.

"I must know, will you be back at this gym? I might need more cameras smashed." You smile and chuckle. "Yeah. Same time next week?" You said with confidence coursing through you now as adrenaline picked up.

Wanda shook her head as she opened her Prius door. "How about Friday? I know a great spot for some smoothies afterward."

This sounds like a date.

You did your best to hide the overwhelming excitement, but you don't think you did an outstanding job. "That sounds great!"

Wanda loved that. "Here, put your number in." She said, handing you the same device you listened to music with earlier—her phone. You looked up and back down before putting in your number.

You were not about to wake up if this indeed was a dream.

"I'll text you my schedule for Friday. See what time works best for us." Wanda sits in her driver's seat and starts the car. Letting the A/C blow her hair back. "Maybe we'll have to skip the workout and just go straight to smoothies."

You smile. "That wouldn't be so bad."

Wanda smiled back. "I thought so." She winked. "Fan."

You shook your head and closed the door for her before she rolled down her window. "Bye, Y/n!" She playfully sang before pulling out of her spot, blasting Vol. 1.

Wanda looked back at you in the rearview mirror and smiled.

By the time Friday rolled around, Wanda knew the gym wasn't happening and wore an outfit fit for a date.

Smoothies and pizza later in the night.

Wanda made a home-cooked breakfast the next morning.

dividers by @/benkeibea

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: ——

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah. fluff + angst

warnings: light smut—fingering (r receiving), weapons (is this something i need to mention? idk lol)

word count: 7k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Natasha meeting your family was not on your list of priorities.

In fact, imagining her at dinner with your parents or in your grandparents' living room was enough to make you shudder. The mere idea of her chatting with your mother over a cup of coffee?

Horrendous. A nightmare.

You try to keep her a secret. Your secret. Your summer love, your escape from reality, your something so impossibly out of place in the world you grew up in you're not even sure she's real.

But then, she's leaning against the gate of your grandparents' house again. You'd recognize the red hair and black leather jacket from a mile away. The way she sticks out in the uniform, boring normalcy of your neighborhood is almost offensive.

"No, no, no", you mutter under your breath, throwing the door open. You fly down the stairs and run up to her, silently praying nobody will see you. You grab her arm and yank her away from the gate. "You can't be serious right now-"

"Y/N", your father suddenly calls. You stiffen. "Who's that?"

Slowly, you turn around. Natasha follows your gaze until she's met with the sight of your father. It takes all of her strength not to crack a grin — the ironed pastel polo, the khakis, the loafers that look like he's never walked on actual grass. Way too pristine for a casual evening at home.

You elbow her side when you notice how she raises her eyebrows, but her expression doesn't waver.

"A friend", you say awkwardly, tugging at her arm again. She ignores you. "We're just, uhm..."

"Going for a ride", Natasha finishes unhelpfully.

"Around town."

"Maybe get some ice cream."

"No booze", you add. Your father stares at you, his expression both stoic and amused. "Even though I, uhm, technically-"

"Alright", he finally cuts you off. "What's going on? Is this a date?"

Your face flushes at the blunt question. If he figures this out, you're doomed — your parents insist on meeting every person you go out with. Then, they subject them to scrutiny sharper than police officers grilling suspects. Passing that test is nearly impossible.

You know better than to hope for their approval, especially when it comes to Natasha.

"No!", you blurt out. "She's just- we-"

"I'm a friend", she says, pinching your side. The noise you let out is completely undignified, but at least you stop rambling incoherent nonsense. "Nothing to worry about, sir."

"Right", your father says slowly. He lets his eyes run up and down your body, from head to toe, assessing your appearance. You didn't dress casually, and you know it. His eyes narrow. "Well, if you're going to spend time together, you should come in and introduce her. It's almost dinner time anyway. How does pot roast sound?"

She's enjoying your discomfort much more than she should. Smoothly, she replies that pot roast does sound good. Her eyes meet yours, twinkling teasingly. Suddenly, you envision it happening.

Natasha, surrounded by your parents and grandparents. She'll stick out like a sore thumb. No way are they going to endorse her.

You feel like ripping your hair out.

"We're good", you quickly say, grabbing Natasha's arm. "We'll just-"

"I insist", he says. "Come on."

With that, he opens the gate a little wider and looks at you expectantly. Natasha, ever-charming and professional when necessary, nods and intertwines her hand with yours. You mutter a quiet "traitor" as you're led inside.

The house smells like garlic and the lavender potpourri your grandmother keeps everywhere, which is a disgusting combination. You feel Natasha's fingers brush against your shoulders as she takes off your jacket for you. Your dad watches her as she does that. You can't quite figure out what he's thinking.

"Honey, we've got company", he calls out as you enter the dining room. Your mom pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyeing Natasha warily.

"You are?"

"Natasha, ma'am."

"A 'friend' of Y/N's", your father says. "We'll need another plate."

Your mother scrutinizes Natasha shamelessly. You know she can see every detail, from the scar above her eyebrow to the dirt clinging to her boots. She'll bring it up later.

"Friends", she repeats. Her gaze locks with yours. You lift your chin with an air of defiance. "You're staying for dinner, I assume?"

"Oh, she's not-"

"Nonsense. Sit down", your father says, shooing you to the table.

Natasha swiftly slides a chair back and gestures for you to sit. Cheeks burning, you avoid everyone else's eyes as you sit down. Her hand briefly brushes against yours. At least she's next to you.

Your mother offers Natasha some wine. She declines politely, saying she doesn't drink — a blatant lie, as you had vodka when you were staying at her house. But you're actually relieved. This should at least be something your parents will be impressed by.

Your grandparents don't pay much attention to Natasha. It hasn't even crossed their minds that she could be more than just your friend. You came out years ago, but they've been ignoring that piece of information expertly. It doesn't fit their narrative.

But your parents know what's going on. They keep their eyes on Natasha even as they're picking at their salad or sipping wine. Eventually, your mother clears her throat. A sound you remember from your childhood, one that usually meant trouble. You stiffen in your chair.

"So", she says, setting down her fork and knife. "What do you do, Natasha?"

"A bit of everything", she says. Her eyes don't give much away. You shrink into your seat as you realize that you don't exactly know what she does, either. "You have a lovely home, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Your mother watches her, eyes narrowed with the realization that Natasha managed to evade her question. She purses her lips. "So-"

"Your daughter is lovely as well", she adds.

You want to sink into the floor.

You spend the rest of the evening trying to steer your parents' attention away from Natasha. Somehow, it works — soon enough, they're talking about friends they saw in town and upcoming church events. You catch your grandmother glance at Natasha's jacket, draped over her chair, repeatedly, but she doesn't comment on it.

You know what's going through their heads, and you don't like it. Thankfully, Natasha is as smooth as can be. She's not too engaged in the conversation, but she appears just interested enough for it to be polite. She laughs at the right moments, she compliments the food, she asks the right questions and gives answers that are too vague to be judged easily.

Finally, you've cleaned off your plates of apple pie. Natasha helps stack the dishes and clean off the table, then you excuse yourselves.

Stepping outside feels like a huge weight falling from your shoulders.

"Dear god", you say, leaning against the trunk of the tree you used to climb when you were a child. Natasha smiles, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm done. Seriously. This was a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad", she says. "They like me, I think."

You raise your eyebrows. "I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Rude." She steps closer, brushing her elbow against your side. You smile faintly. "I think I made a good impression, no?"

"It could've been worse", you admit, though you're not too sure about the 'made a good impression'-thing. Impressing your parents? Nearly impossible. "I'm just glad we got this over with. Next time, pick me up somewhere else."

Natasha leans in, her hands still in the pockets of her jackets. She smirks, brushing her nose against yours before kissing you. A quick kiss, but you feel the thrill shoot through your veins. Kitchen window, you think, then peck her lips before pulling away. You rest your head against the rough bark of the trunk.

Your smile makes Natasha fall in love all over again.

. . .

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

You glance up from your book. Your eyebrows are furrowed, your foot is tapping a restless pattern against the firm cushions of the couch. This has been going on for twenty minutes and you're very close to hiding in your room.

"I just don't know, okay? I don't know what she does. She didn't tell me."

Your mother rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Something white and furry — your grandmother's devil cat named Thoreau — slithers past her legs and disappears into the hallway.

"Y/N", she says, stepping closer. "There's no way you've been going out with that...woman and don't know what she does. Who she is, in fact. I mean, have you looked at her?"

Oh, you have. You know what she's talking about. It makes your frustration spike.

"What's so bad about her, huh?", you snap, shutting your book abruptly. Her eyes widen for a split second. "She's nice. She treats me well. She's smart and funny. I really don't get why you dislike her so much!"

"Excuse me? I never said I-“

"You don't have to say anything!"

"Y/N!" Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and unrelenting. You feel yourself flinch. "Don't use that tone with me. I want to know who she is. Who she really is. Because even you seem to have no clue."

You go silent. Your face falls, revealing how accurate your mother's observation is.

You don't know Natasha. You know her, but you don't know her. What you gathered so far are little pieces of information, minuscule bits, knowledge that won't get you far.

You have no idea where she's from, or why she's in this town, what shes does.

But you know that she loves black coffee and braids, and movies and swimming. She loves falling asleep with her head on your chest, though she usually doesn't sleep through the night.

She counts stars when she doesn't know what to talk about. At night, she crosses streets without looking twice.

She can't draw to save her life. Her sketch of a mouse looked more like a gray circle with legs. But when she used a pen to draw on your arm, you wished the ink would seep into your skin so the drawing would never fade away.

Whether you know the things that actually matter is a question you can't answer.

You shift under your mother's gaze, slowly averting your eyes. Your bottom lip hurts from the way you chew on it. Your fingers lightly dig into your thigh.

"What do you want me to do?", you ask. You sound more petulant than you'd like to admit.

She exhales, willing herself to soften a little. Tentatively, she sits down next to you and takes your book. She stares at the cover as if gathering her thoughts. She tries to remind herself that this is nothing more than a summer romance — something that'll pass eventually. Rather sooner than later, she hopes.

"Talk to her", she says. "Make sure you know what you're getting into. Because you're not about to ruin your life because of one summer."

Her words hit harder than expected. You can tell she's serious, because she always is. You've started to think she's incapable of making jokes.

It all settles in your stomach, makes your thoughts churn. You nod, imperceptibly almost, but your mother notices. She reaches over to squeeze your hand before getting up.

Eyes glued to the cover of your book, you sit there. The image blurs, as does the title.

You've built a fragile, beautiful thing together — and you need answers from Natasha before summer slips away.

. . .

It's a warm summer night. You managed to sneak out at a little after midnight, carefully walking down the stairs and shutting the window behind you. The seat of Natasha's SUV had started to feel familiar as you sat down in her car.

Now, you're back at the lake behind her house. Its surface shimmers in the milky moonlight. The towel creates a barrier between your thighs and the wood of the dock you're sitting on, preventing you from getting splinters. Your toes dip into the water, which is definitely much cooler already. Summer is coming to an end.

She swims up to you so she's right in front of the dock. Her fingertips loosely wrap around your ankle and she presses a kiss to it, her lips cold and wet against your skin. You can't tell whether she knows how your thoughts are racing, how you've been trying to voice your fears for an eternity now.

"Join me", she says, rubbing circles against your skin. Her green eyes seem deeper than the lake she's in.

You tilt your head, your eyebrows raised skeptically. It's tempting, really, but the idea of getting all wet and cold isn't a pleasant one.

"I don't know", you hesitate. "I think I'm fine right here."

Natasha hums and squeezes your ankle. She tugs on it, lightly enough to not make you worry too much. "You say that now...", she then says, quickly causing you to change your mind about not worrying.

With one swift pull, you slip from the dock. The world tilts, you gasp, and suddenly, you're underwater. But you're pulled back up before your panic can take root, her arms around your thighs, the cold water a stark contrast to the heat simmering in your chest. Natasha's smile matches yours.

"Got you."

"I'm wet", you mutter, brushing wayward strands of hair out of your face. She presses her lips against your jaw. Your fingers grasp her chin and you give her a real kiss, a slow and all-consuming one, sweet from the lake water.

Your hands run into her hair, combing through it and untangling it. Her fingertips dig into your thighs. You feel the spinning sensation in your head slow down.

Finally, you part. Your lips hover close to hers, letting you swallow her breath. Natasha kisses your bottom lip and then trails her lips down your neck until she reaches your chest. Her tongue traces the seam of your bikini top.

You stop her before she can go further. Your fingers rake through her hair, making her pause.

"I need to talk to you", you admit. She looks up, worry crossing her features. "It's nothing bad. I think."

"Your parents?", she asks, slowly lowering you into the water. Her arms stay wrapped around your waist in a loose hold.

The smile on your face is bitter. You sigh and touch her jaw, fingers lightly drumming against it. "Kind of", you say. "But also...everything else. Us. This. I mean...summer is about to end. What happens then?"

She should've anticipated this conversation. Summer won't last forever — you'll leave, as will she. Responsibilities loom over her like dark clouds. Suddenly, she sees a future in which she never meets you again.

"I don't know", she murmurs. Her hand slides up and down your back repeatedly, fingertips slipping under the tight fabric of your bikini. "I didn't think about it."

Her words feel like a needle in your chest. You've been awake way too many times, tossing and turning, wondering what your future is going to look like. Whether she's in it as well.

There's no way she's this indifferent to what happens next.

"You didn't?"

"I mean..." She sighs and leans in, her lips briefly pressing against your temple. "Of course I did. In a way. But I've mostly been focused on the now. You're leaving, aren't you? You're going back to college. And I..."

Natasha doesn't say anything else. You look at her with your eyebrows raised, silently promoting her to keep going. You both know what you are doing once summer ends. Where you're going, who you're going to be with, all that stuff.

But Natasha? You have no idea. She won't tell you.

"Listen", she begins, letting go of you. The loss of contact is unbearable. "There are things you're better off not knowing."

"Are you kidding?" You swim closer, the water brushing along your body. Disbelief is written all over your face. "Natasha, please tell me you aren't serious. If it's that bad, you have to tell me. I need to know. I mean, my mom-"

"Is that's what this is about?" Her voice hasn't changed in volume, but the tone is so very different. Cold, biting, accusatory. It makes you stop in your tracks. "Your parents?"

"No!" You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to not start a fight. "No. Of course not. I don't care what they think. But sometimes, even they are right. Natasha, I need to know. You have to tell me if you want this to keep going."

"Of course I want to keep this going", she snaps. "But what if I tell you and then never hear from you again, huh? You ever thought about that?"

You shake your head and grab her hand. She recoils initially but then relaxes, her eyes locked on your face warily. "We can sort it out. I really don't believe it can be that bad."

Seconds of silence. Her hand twitches in yours and she frowns. When she looks away, it feels like everything has started to slip from your grasp.

"You're naive", she states quietly. Your chest burns with an odd mixture of shame and defensiveness. If only you knew that she isn't trying to insult you — no, this is her attempt at keeping you safe from whatever mess her life is.

She's seen your life. Has met your parents, heard about your upbringing. She knows you're wealthy, a top student at one of the USA's most prestigious universities. Your future is dipped in diamonds and gold, enhanced by glasses of champagne and dinner parties.

Natasha's life is bullets and blood. There's nothing else to be said.

"Stop pushing me away", you plead. She feels her throat constrict. "We can work this out. We can get through this."

"I'm not pushing you away", she argues. "I'm being realistic. There's a difference between the two."

"Maybe it's both", you say, wading closer to her again. "It probably is. But I want to know, Nat."

Stubbornness gives way to exhaustion. She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from yours.

"Not yet", she says weakly. You watch her swim to the latter attached to the dock. Her hands grab the metal bars and she pulls herself up, water dripping off her body. Her skin is smooth in the pale light. Trying to stop her seems futile.

She grabs a towel and wraps herself into it. Her figure retreats towards the house, getting smaller and less defined with each step. You wait for a moment, then you exhale in frustration and follow her inside.

The wooden floors feel slippery underneath your feet. You blindly reach for the light switch only to find out the electricity is gone — again. You don't even bother looking for the flashlight, as you've already memorized the layout of the small house.

"Natasha", you call, not seeing her in the living room. You peek into the bedroom, but it's empty. "For fuck's sake, don't do this!"

Something touches your spine. You whip around with a start. You aren't quite sure what you were expecting, but you should've known it'd be her. She stares at you, making no move to apologize.

"It's late", she says.

You blink, caught off guard for a moment. "What?"

"It's late. You're probably tired."

"Natasha-"

"Let's go to sleep", she says, sounding resolute. You give in.

The mattress is the same, but she changed the bedsheets. They're a navy blue and not as faded as the floral ones, but they're just as soft.

There's a distance between the two of you. Your back is facing her, she's staring at the ceiling. She tries closing her eyes, falling asleep, but it doesn't work. At some point, she rolls over. Her front is flush with your back. Her lips ghost over your shoulder as her arm tentatively wraps around your middle.

You find yourself scooting into the touch.

"Asleep?", she murmurs, her hand under your shirt now.

"No."

Natasha's lips press against the back of your neck. Her breath is warm on your skin and your eyes close automatically. Her hand cups your breast, massaging it gently. You feel goosebumps form all over you.

"Still mad at me?", she whispers, rolling your nipple between her cold fingers. You huff, but the sound morphs into a quiet moan.

"I don't know", you say breathily. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive bud. Suddenly, you're wet again, but this time not because of lake water. "Shit."

Natasha kisses along your neck. Her teeth graze your skin before she sucks on it, leaving love bites behind. "You want to?"

You turn your head, burying your nose in the soft pillow underneath you. It's petulant, in a way, causing Natasha to smile. She kisses your earlobe.

"Yes or no?", she asks. You sigh at the realization that you can either get over yourself and say yes, or disappear into the shower and take care of this yourself.

It's not a hard decision.

"Yes", you mutter. Natasha hums and leaves wet kisses behind your ear, her breath hot.

"You're sure?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"I like to double-check", she replies.

Lips against your skin, she slips the strap of your top off your shoulder. Your head lolls back, resting against her forehead. Her hand trails from your arm to your stomach. She undoes the drawstring of your shorts and the gentle pressure around your waist disappears. Her fingers press against your cunt and she breathes into your ear.

You stifle a moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness. Her fingertips pinch your clit and you let a soft whine slip. Heat spreads on your skin.

"You're so pretty", she mumbles. The kisses on your shoulder turn more feverish, peppered all over you, hot and wet and open-mouthed. You writhe against her, your flushing face hidden in your pillow. Her fingers slip into you, leaving you no time to get used to the sensation. "It'd be a shame if you stayed mad."

You don't respond. Natasha's fingers curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot and making you even wetter. You're dripping down her wrist, ruining the sheets. Her fingers are slick with your arousal.

A third finger works you open. Waves of pleasure roll down your back and add to the coil in your lower belly. Heat floods your veins and your vision goes blurry. You see stars, but they're oh so different from the ones in the sky.

Natasha's movements slow down right before you're about to come. When you turn your head to look at her and protest, she doubles down and starts moving faster. Surprised moans tumble from your lips, your eyes wide. Her thumb rubs circles on your clit. Her expression remains the same, but you can see her pupils dilate.

Your eyes hold hers as you come, walls clenching around her and cheeks red. Aftershocks buzz through your body.

"Still mad at me?", she mumbles. You feel her lips drag across your jaw.

"A little", you admit, thought your voice, softened and breathy, betrays you. You can feel her smile against your cheek, the gentle curve of her lips, and, weirdly, it hurts not being able to see it. You pull away just enough to look at her.

Sometimes, it feels like her eyes are the only glimpse of her world you're allowed to see. A world she lived in long before she entered yours.

You roll over and rest your forehead against hers. You grasp her hand and bring it up to your lips, kissing her still wet fingers.

"I want to know you", you say quietly. "I don't know if you want me to know you."

"That's..." She hesitates, her voice cracking. "That's not true. It's just not that simple, Y/N."

You watch her with furrowed eyebrows. Slowly, you intertwine your fingers with her. She doesn't waver, doesn't pull away — which is something, at least. But it's not what you were hoping for.

Her green eyes meet yours again. Her world flickers in front of you, blurry and unsteady, too faint to decipher.

"I never asked for simple", you then say. "I'm not simple, either. None of this ever was. I told you from the beginning."

"That's different."

"It's really not."

"It is."

Her voice is louder this time. You let go of her hand and prop yourself up on your elbow, your eyes narrowed. Natasha's eyes are challenging, but she can't hide the vulnerability that shimmers through.

"Don't yell at me", you warn quietly.

"I'm not yelling", she mutters, her gaze shifting away from you. Her jaw tightens with both frustration and guilt. "My point stands. You have a pretentious family. So what? Not the biggest issue I can think of."

You raise your eyebrows and shift to fully sit up. Her words sting — downplaying your struggles is something you didn't expect from her. Apparently, Natasha notices the effect her words had, and she quickly sits up as well.

"You know what I meant. I know it's not easy for you, either, but you've got to understand that things are difficult."

"I can't understand until you explain it to me", you say, growing more frustrated with every second. "What is it, huh? Are you secretly married? Have a kid somewhere? Maybe you killed someone."

The last sentence — one you definitely weren't being serious about — makes her eyes widen.

Guilt. It hits her like a flash flood. Hands stained with blood, so many lives taken, a past she doesn't want to be hers. With you, she thought she could pretend. Push it all away, be someone else for once.

The thought that you may think of her like that — that she's someone who's capable of ending lives — hurts more than it should. Suddenly, she feels like you can sense the darkness she's kept buried for so long.

She sits up abruptly, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. Seeing her like this does everything but soothe your worries.

"What?", she says quietly. She sounds anguished, hurt, and you're the reason.

Natasha and you stare at each other. You can hear the wind outside, the cicadas, and for the first time ever, the nightly noises don't manage to calm you down. For some reason, they make everything worse.

You don't know how to backtrack, so you don't. You grow more helpless by the second, until she finally speaks again.

"You have no idea what you're talking about", she says. "You don't get to joke about that. It's not funny. Not to me."

"Natasha..."

"I'm serious", she cuts you off. "You don't know who I am. You have no idea. I can promise you that. A few weeks spent with me don't fucking change that."

"Then help me! Explain it to me! But don't just leave me in the dark like this!"

"It doesn't fit into your world, Y/N", she says, suddenly getting up. She starts rubbing her neck — an anxious little mannerism you haven't seen her exhibit yet. "Explaining it won't do anything. It'll only change how you see me, and I don't know if I can deal with that."

"Then what's the solution, hm? You'll keep it from me forever?"

"Forever doesn't exist with us!"

Everything seems to freeze. You were about to get up, but your body seems to have changed its mind. You stay seated on the mattress, staring up at her with disbelief and utter, pure heartbreak.

"Is that what you think?", you ask slowly. Natasha almost winces. "That this will just end?"

"Most likely", she says, taking a step backward. Her hand reaches behind her until she finds the dresser. She grabs its edge, her knuckles turning white. "You don't know what you're asking for, Y/N."

"I'm asking for you", you say, finally managing to get up.

"You're being naive."

"Stop calling me that!"

"It's true!"

"You're yelling again", you warn.

Natasha turns, her back facing you. She rubs the back of her neck as she breathes unevenly.

You hesitate as you stand there. Then, slowly as to not spook her, you reach out. Your fingertips brush against her lower back and she flinches. But she doesn't pull away, so you press your palm against her back. You step closer and press your lips to her shoulder.

"I don't care if it doesn't fit", you mumble, though it's a lie — you do care. You want to be part of her world, whatever it may be like. "I just want to make this work, Nat."

She takes a moment to reply. Her voice is raw, her breathing ragged. She faces you again, her green eyes filled with something bitter.

"You think you can just fix everything?", she asks. "Just waltz in and make everything better? Because it doesn't work like that."

"I don't want to fix anything", you say quietly. Your other hand touches her waist, and to your surprise, she leans into you. You study her, wary and careful. "I just want to understand."

"You can't understand until you know everything", Natasha says. "And I don't think you want to know everything."

You stare at her, eyes flickering with concern. It's not like your life has been perfect, or that you've been shielded from everything that isn't all sunshine and daisies, but you can't imagine what could possibly be this bad.

"I don't want everything", you say. "I want you."

Natasha goes rigid for a moment. Then she relaxes, muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. Like a cat landing on a stretched out blanket, you catch her. She buries her face in your neck, her body held upright by your arms around her waist. You can feel her breathe you in.

You smell like her.

. . .

The rain is heavy. It soaks through your clothes and leaves the ends of your hair dripping. You barely make it into Natasha's car without slipping.

"You're wet again", she says, handing you a blanket. "No umbrella?"

You wipe the water out of your face and snort. "No. Forgot to grab it."

"Could've gone back inside."

The look you throw at her shuts her up. She starts the car and drives out of the neighborhood. Only the pelting of the rain on the roof fills the silence between you.

You've never been like this with each other. Until now, it was easy. But that's the way it is, right? Things are easy until they aren't anymore.

"Where are we going?", you ask, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. You lift one corner of it to pat your hair dry.

"Just driving", she mumbles. Her knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road, but you can tell there's more.

You don't say anything. You just lean back and enjoy being the one who gets to play passenger princess, even if your clothes are sticking to your skin. You drive through your favorite part of town — the cute little corner with the bookshop and the park full of flowers —, then Natasha suddenly takes a turn.

You recognize the neighborhood, but she hasn't taken you here before.

"Huh", you mumble, staring out the window. You're slumped into the seat lazily. "New location unlocked?"

"Something like that."

In front of a bed and breakfast, she stops. She unbuckles and gets out, nodding at you to follow her. Despite your confusion, you don't hesitate.

Inside the building, it's warm and quiet. It smells like cookies and flowers; freshly picked ones, sitting on the counter next to the staircase. The steps creak under your feet as you go upstairs.

Natasha fishes another key out of her pocket and unlocks a door. The room that appears in front of you is exactly what you expected — corny grandma-bedsheets on top of a wooden bed, with pictures of cats on the walls and a plush rug.

"I don't understand", you murmur, brushing your hand over little notebook on the desk. It's for the guests to write in. "What is this?"

"I'm staying here", she says, digging through a backpack, "until I leave."

You pause, your eyes flickering up. For some reason, you thought Natasha would always be here. Even after you go back to college. Like a safe place you could retreat to whenever the world becomes too much.

A very selfish thought, but a comforting one nevertheless.

"You...you don't live here", you say slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. Which may or may not be very accurate. "You're leaving. You're leaving?"

"I am."

Your eyes widen as she keeps pulling stuff out of the backpack and putting it aside. A gun. A taser. Some kind of earpiece. Your heart starts rabbiting in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"Uhm-"

"You said you wanted to know me, didn't you?" She turns around. Her eyes are cold and her walls are up. "This is me. This —" She pulls another weapon, which looks like an odd sort of bracelet, out of her backpack, "this is me. This."

You laugh nervously. Part of you won't believe this is real. It has to be some kind of joke. But Natasha is completely serious.

She wraps the bracelet around her wrist and clicks on it. It tightens around her wrist and lights up. You take a step back and bump against the door. Her eyes meet yours, and for a split second, the facade slips. You see it — a deep, unrelenting sadness, the kind that comes with inevitability, the quiet acceptance of something she knew would happen but hoped never would.

"Does it fit?", she prompts you.

You frown and take a stubborn step closer. You're trying hard not to let it show, but your heartbeat is still racing. "Natasha, don't-"

"You wanted to know who I am", she cuts you off. "This is me."

"I don't care", you plead, stepping closer once more. This time, it's Natasha who takes a step back. "I said I wanted to know you. I still do. I want to know you, whatever that means."

"Y/N", she says quietly. "Nobody wants to know me. I can promise you that."

"I do", you say, stubborn and frantic. "You've been keeping this from me for two months, and I still want to know you."

"I've been keeping it from you for a reason."

She has a point. If she'd pulled out a gun on your first date, you would've bolted.

But now? For some reason, you're still here. Still trying to get her to listen, despite the fact that there are multiple weapons scattered across the floor. Suddenly, the scars on her body make more sense. The bruises, the healed cuts. You've learned to love them. The way you trace them with your lips is proof enough.

But with Natasha, you didn't have to learn. It just happened — one day, you looked at her and loved her.

Even now, you do.

"Why would you do that?", you ask, both baffled and understanding her point. "Why would you keep something like this from me?"

"Because this?" She laughs, her voice tinged with bittersweet regret. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, Y/N. Things usually end before I do, anyways. But I fell in love with you."

The words wash over you like waves. For a moment, everything stops — the rain outside, your thoughts, your pulse. All you can do is stare at her, her words echoing in your mind.

"So what?", you suddenly shout, even surprising yourself. "You fall in love and leave because it 'wasn't supposed to happen'? Is that it?"

You breathe heavily, the words burning in your chest. You bite back tears, your jaw clenching.

"We'll just walk away when it's too much?", you continue. You're no longer trying to control your voice, so it keeps rising. "Pretend it never happened?"

"You don't get it", she snaps. "This isn't a fairytale. Fuck, all I wanted was someone to help me take my mind off things."

"And you got that, didn't you?" Full of anger and frustration, you grab the backpack and shove it against her chest. She doesn't falter, even when you keep pushing your fists against her. Your tears and sobs are silent. "You got that damn fling. Now you can leave, huh? Leave everything in pieces!"

She recoils slightly, then she shoves the backpack off her with more force than you expected. It hits the ground with a low thud.

"That's now what this was!", she says, her voice cracking. "You're not just a fling, Y/N. Which is exactly why I need to end this."

"You're not making any sense!"

"I'm not?", she yells. She whips around and grabs her wallet. Suddenly, you've got an ID card in your hand. "Here! Am I making sense now?"

You're too stunned to speak. Your eyes are glued to the card in your hand, rereading the words, trying to understand what's going on.

SHIELD. Field operative. Special agent.

The words swim around in your brain uselessly. You're not sure you've heard of any of this before.

"You...?"

"I'm a spy", Natasha says sharply. She grabs the card and puts it away again, hiding it in her purse. "I'm an assassin."

That does the trick. Every word is wiped from your supply of smartass remarks, your knees seem to buckle for a moment, you go completely quiet. You grab the desk next to you for support, leaning on it.

There's a silent challenge to the way she's looking at you. Chin slightly raised, her eyes filled with an unusual coldness. Her fair skin is even paler than usual.

"An assassin", you repeat, voice cracking.

"Yes", she says, watching you with a mixture of regret and defiance. "Former assassin, but...that doesn't change anything. It's what I am. What I've always been. I'm a trained killer, Y/N."

You stare at her as you try to wrap your head around this. Natasha, the woman you love — the one who kissed your forehead when you were sleepy, who read books to you — is a killer.

"You're a killer", you repeat, as if that'd make it easier to grasp. It doesn't. The words feel bitter on your tongue, strange and foreign.

Natasha doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Her mask falters. What you see now is raw pain.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"You're sorry?" You let out a hollow laugh, but deep down, you want to sob. "How was I supposed to find out, huh? 'Hey, by the way, I killed people'? Fuck, Nat, I...fuck."

She crosses her arms and takes another step back. Her legs bump against the bed. Outside, the rain starts pouring heavily.

"I thought I could keep it separate", she admits, her voice quieter now. You close your eyes at the sound of it and resist pulling her into you like you've done so many times. "That I could pretend I'm someone else when I'm with you."

Your hands ball into fists. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"It didn't work", she continues, softening. "You made me feel more like myself than anyone ever could."

When you open your eyes again, they're glossed over with tears. You exhale slowly, shakily, and force yourself to look at her.

"This isn't fair", you whisper. "It really, really isn't. You don't get to make me fall in love only to do...this."

"I told you", Natasha says quietly, "I didn't plan for this to happen. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Well, there you are." You laugh bitterly and scrub a hand down your face. "All of this just to end up alone again. You happy now?"

"Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did!" You step closer, the anger pulsing through your body. You can feel how warm your face is. "You hurt me. You hurt yourself, too. You screwed up, just admit it!"

"Fine!", she yells. "I screwed up!"

"You did!", you shout. The tears start flowing, hot and damp. Natasha's heart gives a painful twist at the sight. "You screwed up, and you hurt me, and you, and I- I- god, fuck you!"

Her hand reaches out on instinct, but her outstretched fingers never even brush against your arm.

"Don't", you hiss, pushing her hand away. "Don't touch me. Not now."

She pulls back and swallows, her eyes darting away from you.

"I'm sorry", she says.

The words linger in the air. You stand there, trying to slow your breathing. You cover your face with your hands and inhale raggedly. The tears feel warm against your palms.

"This is it?", you ask numbly. "We're done?"

"I'm sorry", she repeats. You shake your head and wipe your face with your hands.

"Fuck you", you repeat. You step away from the door, open it, and slam it shut before Natasha can react.

She stays in the bedroom, frozen in place. Her eyes are glued to the door.

Gone. Gone are two months of whatever it is you two had.

The lake, the diner, the drive-in. Nights spent buried in each other, bodies so close it was unclear where one ended and the other began.

She should feel relief. At least she doesn't have to live a lie anymore — now, you know the truth. You've walked away and she's the one left standing alone. And worst of all?: She deserves it.

The rain continues to pour outside, but inside the room, there is nothing but the quiet of the aftermath.

[yunsound]

The Third Installment to the Oubing Saga- Yunbing

PRIOR EXPERIENCE NEEDED!

Entry ticket: reading this post and acknowledging that the following is about to be 18+. No, I'm not writing anything explicit, but it's going to be some mentions of sex. Move on.

After finishing Ne Zha 2025 (or the 2019 version if you're a real one), did you feel overcome by the gayness? Did you wonder why the fuck anyone would ever look at their best friend like that? Did shoujo anime music start playing in the back of your head?

...yeah you're not alone.

As previously mentioned, Oubing is currently China's biggest fandom ship (I stay hopeful that this wave of hype will last longer than it did in 2019). I also trust that you all understand why that is.

Seriously, I've never seen any piece of Chinese media except for straight up BL THIS gay.

Let's count on one hand how many BL tropes these movies include.

Red/blue

Soulmates

Only friend

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

Oh oops, we ran out of fingers! Next hand.

Friends to enemies to friends to lovers

Forbidden romance

Demon x angel

Two halves of one... thing

...bondage? I suppose? If you know you know THE scene.

Oh wow look at that we ran out of fingers again. MOVING ON TO THE NEXT HAND-

Okay, I'll stop here. All of this makes Oubing technically a very vanilla ship (ignore the bondage that's mostly a joke. Though you WILL see a lot of art involving Ne Zha's red sash in... different usages) and very sweet. Pure love, I suppose.

Do you know about Shangmei Oubing, a variation on Oubing featuring different adaptations of Ne Zha and Ao Bing? Well now you do. Read this post to figure out what I'm talking about.

If there's a spectrum of the wholesome-ness of Oubing ships, Shangmei Oubing is in the middle. Yes, it's very toxic, but technically Ne Zha does really love Ao Bing a lot, just in the wrong ways.

On the OPPOSITE end of that spectrum, we have Yunbing.

Yunbing is the ship between Ne Zha and Ao Bing from the 2021 movie New Gods Reborn: Ne Zha. The movie itself is on Netflix- it's kind of a mid movie, I'm NGL, but the animation is pretty good.

I haven't watched the whole movie (how do I know it's mid? Because I saw some clips and they made me sigh out loud) so I'm maybe not the most reliable critic, but it's just not peak storytelling, okay?

Yunbing is 80% made TF up (headcanon ships are the best ships) because in the movies they hate each other, like TRUE hate, not gay hate. I'm talking GENERATIONAL hating.

If you ignore canon, though, (my favourite thing to do), you are left with Yunbing, which is honestly really fucking yummy.

Here's a quick overview of the background and dynamic of the ship/movie/characters without spoiling the plot of the movie.

The main character of the movie is called Li Yunxiang (remember that Ne Zha's dad is Li Jing, so technically his full name is Li Nezha prior to him fucking himself up via sashimi-ing his flesh from his bones).

Li Yunxiang is the reincarnation of Ne Zha in a modern setting in the fictional East Sea City (Donghai City). He doesn't know or remember being Ne Zha. He works as a deliveryman I think, or a smuggler or something low-paying and dangerous I think.

In East Sea City, water is in shortage due to the Dragon Clan (now a rich family business) hoarding it. The third son of this Dragon Clan (his name is De San) is, you guessed it, the reincarnated Ao Bing.

Actually I'm not sure if he's reincarnated or if he's just been here the whole time hating.

De San, unlike our polite nice Ao Bing from Ne Zha 2019/2025, or the terrified victim Ao Bing from Shangmei, is a huge bitch. He's also a girlfailure. He's not some mass-murdering psychopath, but he's a spoiled rich brat who lives and breathes capitalism and privilege.

Look at his stupid face. Isn't he punchable? No, despite the blonde hair, the director has confirmed he isn't mixed or foreign, he's just an idiot who bleached his hair.

He was supposed to be some sort of dominant playboy daddy character but the entire nation of China just immediately saw the potential for girlfailure brat bottom and I guess that's where my brain went too.

After Ne Zha pulled his tendons out, his dad paid some SERIOUS money to make him a mechanical tendon. Let me tell you I don't know why but this shot of his metal spine is SO fucking sexy

Sorry for thirsting on main, IDK what it is but it's getting to me.

De San still wants revenge on Ne Zha for pulling his fucking tendons out so he spends like 10000 hours trying his very best to kick Li Yunxiang's (confused) ass and never manages to get there, it's so funny.

See, the main reason this ship is so delicious is the dynamic, not their interactions because this is ACTUAL hate, I'm talking they'd kill each other in an instant with NO hesitation. The sexual tension is through the roof. Okay, they're both straight, but you DON'T HAVE TO BELIEVE IN THAT DOCTRINE.

Mild spoiler alert!

There's a scene in which Li Yunxiang gets one over De San by making him crash his car. As De San goes flying out of the car in intense pain, he glances over at Yunxiang, who's looking back at him.

Instead of giving him a middle finger or a thumbs down, Yunxiang fucking gives him a finger heart. IK it's supposed to be mocking but it's so funny, especially the BLATANT rage on De San's face afterwards.

The appeal of this ship is just the hate sex. This is a ship 100% meant for gooners, if you'd prefer sweet vanilla hand-holding and blushing you probably want to go back to regular Oubing.

Why does De San have such pillow princess potential? First of all, look at him. What the fuck is that waist to shoulder to leg ratio?

Second, in the Cantonese dub, he calls his father (Ao Guang) "daddy" (in English btw). Sorry, what? You are a twenty-something year old fully grown man. It is fairly common for rich Cantonese people to call their father daddy (according to my rich Cantonese friend) but it's a little much.

Third, he's such a failure it's hilarious. Spoiler alert: there's a whole scene in which his father calls him a failure and he's like "wait what". He's kind of dumb and pathetic despite being arrogant and proud.

Very princess-like. Chinese version of Drarry, basically. They also both really like cars! TBH if they weren't Ao Bing and Ne Zha's reincarnations they'd probably be really good friends.

Generations of hating each other is such gay behaviour, WHY is that other man on your mind over thousands of years??

Some of the popular headcanons for Yunbing:

Yunxiang calls De San "third princess" or "princess" because he's such a... princess

In the middle of like, fistfighting each other they somehow transition to having sex without knowing how

De San slaps Yunxiang in the face and he's like "on the other side too"

"Only I can be the one to kill him, fuck off!" *surprised look* "No that's not what I meant-"

Inappropriate usage of the metal spine (which is probably more sensitive and delicate...?)

I recommend, if you're looking for Oubing content (of the decidedly not workplace friendly variety) and if you like ENEMIES to lovers (emphasis on the enemies part) that you go through the AO3 Yunbing tag (云冰, I'll link the AO3 tag here directly).

If you want recs please ask me, I am so passionate about all three iterations of Oubing.

To quote a XHS user:

Oubing: Pure love

Shangmei Oubing: Pure fear

Yunbing: Pure hate

[studioeisa]

kaeeeee loml what if i asked u for jeonghan + what? me? jealous? never.

ⵌ lawyer!jeonghan x lawyer!reader. ⵌ word count: 1.1k ⵌ notes: alternate universe: office. hi, my light! do you remember saying "workplace rival yoon jeonghan that has the same academic validation kink as you"? because i do 😃 and here's a taste of it!

The firm's war room is alive with energy.

The partners are gathered, a sea of pinstriped authority, waiting to devour the presentations. You sit near the end of the long table, fiddling with the corner of your folder, pretending not to notice Yoon Jeonghan lounging next to you like he owns the place.

He doesn't, of course. Not yet. But the way he leans back in his chair, perfectly pressed suit catching the overhead light, gives off the impression that he thinks it's only a matter of time.

No matter how many late nights you put in, how thoroughly you prepped for cases, Jeonghan always seemed to glide in a hair's breadth ahead of you. Case won? Jeonghan had also just triumphed with an even bigger client. Article published? His had gone live the same day in a journal with more prestige.

It wasn't enough to be good. He always had to be better than you specifically, and he didn't even try to hide it. It's a game of chess that Jeonghan wins more often than not, much to your sheer annoyance.

"You look nervous," he drawls as one of the interns goes to set up the projector. His voice is low enough that only you hear.

"I'm not," you reply in a harsh whisper.

Jeonghan smirks, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve. "Good. I'd hate for you to trip up before I get the chance to one-up you."

"Keep dreaming."

The partners call for the first presenter, and Jeonghan is on his feet in a single fluid motion. He glances down at you, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Watch and learn," he murmurs before strolling to the front of the room.

You hate how good he looks up there. Hate how effortlessly he commands attention, his voice smooth and confident as he outlines his wins from the last quarter. He's all charisma and sharp angles, throwing in just enough technical jargon to prove he's more than a pretty face.

And the worst part? The partners eat it up.

When he finishes, the room breaks into polite applause. Jeonghan returns to his seat, pausing beside you. "Your turn," he says with mock encouragement.

You rise, spine straight, and walk to the front of the room. The folder in your hand feels heavier than it should, but you don't let it show. Your voice is steady as you present, every word precise, every statistic delivered with razor-sharp clarity. You see the partners nodding, their eyes fixed on you, and for a moment, it feels like victory is within reach.

Then you glance at Jeonghan.

He's watching you, his chin resting on his hand, a small, unreadable smile playing on his lips. It's distracting enough to make you stumble over your next sentence— not enough for anyone else to notice, but you know that he does. You know that he's going to give you grief over it, too.

When you finish, the partners offer their feedback, but their words blur together. You return to your seat, hyper-aware of Jeonghan beside you.

He leans closer, his cologne faint but maddeningly present. It's a scent you wouldn't expect on a man as cutthroat as Jeonghan: Something fresh and soothing, with notes of cedant and clementine. Who knew that your rival was into more floral fragrances?

"Tripped up a bit there," he teases lowly. "Losing your edge, darling?"

You don't dignify his taunt with a response. You keep your eyes fixed on the partners in front of you two, knowing that nothing would vex Jeonghan more than being ignored.

Sure enough, you can hear the derisive snort that he lets out when you don't even look his way. His chair squeaks as he leans back, leaving you alone for the time being. A corner of your lip twitches upward. Checkmate.

The meeting goes on without much fanfare. The partners promise results in a day or two, which typically means dole outs of the best clients and cases. The real reward, though, are the whispers.

The grumblings about who might be the next partner. Which associate— between Jeonghan and you— might someday ascend.

As people begin to file out of the war room, a couple of people go up to congratulate the two of you. It's a well-practiced charade, how both of you offer tight-lipped smiles and curt nods in response. It's a shark-infested field; you and Jeonghan know that no one can be trusted.

But then one of the partners— Atty. Sy, perhaps the most senior person in the room— ambles towards the two of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Jeonghan squares his shoulders.

Atty. Sy pauses. And then—

"Good," he says simply, his eyes trained on you.

It's just one word, barely praise, but it feels like a win handed on a silver platter. You fold into a bow, partly because it's the polite thing to do, and partly because you're trying to hide the shit-eating grin threatening to take over your face.

"Thank you, sir," you answer.

Atty. Sy doesn't say anything to Jeonghan. That's an entirely different win in itself, one that you revel in as you straighten back to your full height.

Jeonghan's expression is perfectly neutral, but you've worked with him for long enough to know the telltale signs of him fraying at the edges. The muscle jumping in his jaw. The murderous flare in his gaze. It's how he looks like when he's facing a particularly difficult client in court, when he's raring for a fight.

God, you wish you could take a picture. It would be so nice to frame this moment in time, to have a tangible reminder of how you one-upped the man, the myth, the legend when it truly mattered.

Jeonghan catches the hint of a smirk on your face.

"I'm not jealous," he says immediately, defensively.

You raise your eyebrows inquisitively. It's an almost innocent look, as if you're wordlessly communicating I haven't said anything.

Jeonghan barrels on, his nerves— for once— getting the better of him. "What? Me, jealous? Never!" he huffs, his hands shoving roughly into his slacks.

"Okay," you sing-song, turning on your heel.

"Yah, you—!"

You don't bother to see what else he has to say. You're already leaving the room, humming happily to yourself.

Jeonghan stays behind, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets; his teeth, grinding so hard that they might cause real damage if he isn't careful. Despite himself, his eyes stray just a couple of inches down your retreating back. To the way your hips sway as you leave, your pencil skirt riding up ever so slightly—

"Damn it," Jeonghan cusses, one hand running through his face in frustration.

Checkmate, indeed.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[batfam-my-beloved]

AU where Batman has a "no killing" rule but that only applies to Batman

Bruce understands that people have their own form of morality and justice. He's not going to fault a soldier for doing what they have to do to protect people. It's just that he personally would probably never go that far. Not that he can't, mind you, he's fucking Batman! Just that the mental and emotional toll would fuck him up so bad he'd be a danger to himself and society.

So when it comes to his murder happy children his rule for them is: "Wait until you're 18."

Bruce: "Dickie, I know Tony Zucco killed your parents and he deserves WAY worse than a punctured lung, two broken legs, a fractured skull, and a dislocated shoulder. But you're also 10 yrs old and the parenting books say that murder at such a young age is not good for a child's emotional development. So how bout we keep him locked up in jail, good and tight, and if you're still mad about it when you turn 18 then you can have at it. Sound good chum?"

Dick, pouting and kicking rocks: "I guess."

Tim "forever 17" Drake is just counting down the days until his 18th birthday because that mother fucker has a list. He doesn't mind waiting because he god damn knows there are worse things than death one can do to someone.

Damien has been killing since he could walk and hold up a sword, so when he comes to live with his father under the "no killing until 18" rule he is NOT happy about it. Until his brothers start poking fun at him.

Damien, pouting: "It isn't fair! Todd gets to go out and kill people!"

Bruce: "Jason is over 18 yrs."

Jason: "Yeah! And besides, its not my fault you're just uncreative in how you beat up bad guys!"

Damien: "What is that supposed to mean!"

Tim: "It means that there are worse things than death but you're just too dumb to know it."

Damien, furious: "Am not!"

Jason and Tim, teasing: "Are too!"

Damien: "AM NOT!"

Jason and Tim: "Are tooooo!"

Dick, tired: "Guys, stop making fun of him. He's just gunna take it as a challenge."

Damien, determined: "Well I accept this challenge! I'll provide my superiority as a vigilantly by taking out the enemy in non-lethal yet appropriately brutal ways of punishment! Just you watch!"

Bruce, weary yet appeased: "Well at least he's not gunna attempt murder for a while."

Jason didn't come with an automatic kill switch so Bruce didn't really have to worry about it. But then Jason died and Dick got to see first hand as to why Bruce had a no killing rule for himself. The insurmountable destruction, the overall apathy for the harm to others around him, the deep seated rage ready to just destroy everything he comes in contact with. Alfred tells Dick that they need to stop him because Bruce won't just stop at the Joker, he'll go after Jason's mother (in this au I'm making Sheila live for the extra angst factor)and whoever else he deems even remotely responsible for the death of his son. Bruce won't care if it starts wars and conflict across nations, he will NOT stop until he gets his revenge.

So they stop him, practically have to sedated Bruce with enough tranquilizers to put down an elephant 10x over. And then they lock the Joker up in the deepest underground pits of Arkham with a broken spine and enough security measures that it's very much impossible to brake him out least you're the Batman himself. Bruce isn't happy about it at first but Alfred and Dick are there with him through it all and it helps a lot.

When Jason comes back he still doesn't know about the "no killing until your 18" rule, nor does he know the reason WHY Batman doesn't kill. So he's still angry and does his whole thing as Red Hood but when he reveals himself to Batman as Jason Todd Bruce is just so happy to see him again. And Jason is confused cuz like: "I just killed a bunch of people, aren't you disappointed?"

And Bruce is like: "I am a bit mad that you hurt Tim but other than that you are technically over 18 yrs old now so I'm going to assume you understand the weight and responsibility that is put upon you when killing someone."

Jason, softly: "What...the fuck?"

Then Jason quickly snaps back into gear with his plan, demands Bruce to choose between killing the Joker or him and Bruce hits back with: "Oh, I'd like nothing more than to kill Joker but I promised Dick and Alfred I wouldn't after almost starting an international war that one time."

Jason, extremely frustrated that his plan isn't going how he wanted to: "What. The. Fuck!"

So Jason dips and tracks down Dick so he could explain what the hell was going on. And Dick does explain. He explains the absolute monster Bruce almost turned into when Jason was murdered and how Bruce would most definitely not stop at the Joker if given the chance.

Dick: "You don't understand Jay, it was bad! Like really, really bad! He was going to kill your mom!"

Jason, shocked: "The fuck?!"

Dick: "He still has her on a tracker! We found him just before he killed Joker, but he still managed to paralyze him from the neck down!"

Jason, slightly disturbed: "That was him!"

Dick: "He was beating Joker's ass with a crowbar! And even after we managed to sedated Bruce and pull him off the clown we still had to make sure that Joker was locked up good and tight underground because if Bruce even caught a glimpse of him in a photo he'd go into another spiral!"

Jason, horrified: "What....the fuuuuuck???"

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: aro and ace sff, vibes edition

While I'm working on my canonical in-text-only aroace rec list, have this more vibes based edition! These are books which center platonic and/or hard to define relationships over romantic and/or sexual ones. Basically they are books that made me, a certified romance disliker, especially connect with the way they portrayed and prioritized non-romantic relationships, whether they're canonically aro/ace or not.

For more details on the books, check under the readmore! My personal favorites are marked with an *. For more rec lists, take a look at my masterpost!

Canonical aro and/or ace

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

Young adult. Elatsoe's America is slightly different from the one we know. Magics and monsters both everyday and dangerous inhabit her world. Elatsoe herself can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. When her cousin is murdered, Elatsoe decides to find out just what happened, even as his home town does everything it can to bury a truth older and larger than she could've imagined.

Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer*

Young adult. Nita isn’t a murderer - technically. She just dissects the bodies of supernatural beings her mother brings home and sells for parts on the black market. But when her mother brings home a still living victim, Nita has had enough and frees him. As it turns out, no good deed goes unpunished as Nita is betrayed, her own nature as a supernatural entity outed as she’s kidnapped and placed behind bars. Now she must find a way to escape before she’s sold for parts.

Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys*

Aphra and her brother are the only survivors after the government raided their home, Innsmouth. Their only living family are the amphibian people of the deep, whom they will one day join, but until then they are bound to land where they struggle to build new lives for themselves after the great loss of their home and loved ones. Then rumors start to spread of a Russian agent seeking dangerous and ancient magic, forcing Aphra to involve herself as they try to stop it.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells*

After having hacked its own governor module, SecUnit uses its small amount of new freedom to secretly download and watch as much media as it can between doing its job guarding humans. But when the scientists it’s been charged with keeping safe come under attack, it must make a choice about whether to continue keeping its freedom secret or risk it all to save them. I leave up to individual judgment whether SecUnit counts as agender, asexual and aromantic, as it is a robot.

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison*

Sherlock Holmes retelling. After having been injured fighting a war against fallen angels, Doyle returns to London to survive on only a veteran’s pension. To afford a place to live in the city, Doyle finds a housemate in Crow, an eccentric angel with a great curiosity for humans and a knack for solving crime. And London needs its protector - supernatural beings walk the streets, and someone going by the name Jack the Ripper terrifies the citizens at night.

Vicious by V.E. Schwab

While studying near-death experiences as college roommates, Victor and Eli discovered something incredible: under the right circumstances, someone can develop seemingly supernatural abilities. When they moved their research to the experimental stage, things went horribly wrong. Ten years later, Victor has broken out of jail and sets out to hunt his former friend, who is on a mission to eradicate all other superpowered people in existence.

Word of god aro and/or ace

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

Young adult fantasy. Artemisia prefers the dead to the living, and is training to become a Gray Sister, a nun who helps the souls of the deceased pass on to the afterlife rather than remain as dangerous spirits. To defend her convent, Artemisia accepts the help of a dangerous revenant, a powerful spirit which grants her great power but also could possess her the moment her guard is lowered. As evil threatens her homeland, Artemisia and the revenant must find a way to work together.

Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace

Wasp is the chosen Archivist in a post-apocalyptic world haunted by the dead. Her job is to hunt the ghosts that still linger, a dangerous and lonely position where she every year is made to fight others to not be replaced. When she meets the ghost of a super soldier, Wasp strikes a deal with him to help him find a long lost friend in exchange for learning more about the world that once was.

The Spider and her Demons by sydney khoo*

Young adult fantasy. All teenager Zhi wants is a normal life (and possibly for her harsh aunt to be a bit nicer), but it’s hard when she’s half spider demon. Every day she must conceal her true nature and hide in human guise. When she slips up and eats a man in front of her rich, aloof classmate Dior, Zhi thinks her life is over. But Dior has secrets of her own, and she is dead set on making herself part of Zhi’s life.

Not canonically aro and/or ace but have The Vibes

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O'Neal*

Priya had plans to go to Stanford, but is derailed by the fallout of lyme disease, making her question if she’ll ever get back to normal. Luckily she has her discord support group with whom she can chat and vent about her illness. Even more - she has Brigid, online fandom friend and fellow chronic illness sufferer. But when Brigid disappears from the web without warning, Priya must drive to Pennsylvania to make sure her friend is okay - and finds that Brigid’s condition is a bit hairier than expected.

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*

Ryland Grace just woke up from a coma, unable to remember anything. He finds himself alone on a space ship, and as his memories slowly trickle back, he realizes he’s been sent on a mission: to find a solution to the impending doom of planet earth. Still struggling with holes in his memories, Ryland tries to fulfill his mission, but as he gets closer to his goal, he discovers someone else got there first. And they aren’t anything close to human. Funny, heartfelt, and heavy on the science.

Malevolent by Harlan Guthrie*

Lovecraftian horror mystery. Private detective Arthur Lester wakes up in his office, his partner dead, memories fuzzy, vision gone, and the voice of a malevolent entity in his mind. Unable to see, Arthur is forced to rely on guidance from the entity as they attempt to solve the mystery of what it is and where it came from. Is this a book? No. But as someone who reads mostly audiobooks, the difference between a book and a fiction podcast is negligible, and also I love this story and its characters and want all of you to do so too.

The Girl from the Well by Rin Chupeco

Young adult horror. Okiku died three hundred years ago, her body thrown down a well. Now she spends her days hunting for and punishing murderers like the one who once killed her. When a strange boy bearing odd tattoos appears in her area, he catches Okiku’s attention - as does something that follows after him. To save the boy, Okiku will be drawn into a journey taking both of them from American suburbia to a faraway shrine in Japan.

Radiant by Karina Sumner-Smith*

In a world where magic is currency, Xhea, wholly devoid of magic, is the lowest of the low. She does have one special ability, though: she can see ghosts. This ability proves useful when she meets Shai, the ghost of a girl from the higher echelons of society who isn't actually dead yet. Her body stolen and her ghost on the run, Shai needs Xhea's help.

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers*

Technically part two of a series, but stands well on its own as the installments are only loosely connected (though I recommend reading the first book as well, it’s very good). A former ship’s AI recently moved into an illegal android body tries to make sense of life as she navigates her way through humans and aliens alike, paralleled with the story of a young girl working alongside and AI to flee a dystopian planet.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Zero Sum Game by S.L. Huang*

Cas Russel is more than just good at math - she can calculate accurately and quickly enough to dodge bullets and fight those twice her size with ease. She thought she was the only one with an ability like this, until she discovers someone with a power even more dangerous than hers, able to reach into and twist the minds of others. Suddenly too involved to simply run away, Cas must not only save the day, but do so while she can't trust her own thoughts.

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy*

Young adult. Twelve-year-old Stephanie Edgley’s uncle, famed horror writer, just died mysteriously and left her his entire fortune. As it turns out, the stories he wrote weren’t entirely made up, and that which killed him wasn’t entirely human. In trying to avenge his death, Stephanie joins forces with Skulduggery Pleasant, sorcerer, detective, and living, walking skeleton. Including this one is kinda cheating because (part of) the series has romance, but the central relationship is always the codependent nonsense (affectionate) between the lead and her mentor/detective partner.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb*

The angel Uriel and the demon Little Ash have been friends for centuries, living and studying together in a small Jewish community in Europe. But times are changing, and many of the community have left for a new life across the sea. When one of these emigrants go missing, Uriel and Little Ash decide to leave their peaceful life to go find and, if needed, save her.

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

A space opera in which sentient spaceships can walk the ground in stolen human bodies, so called ancillaries. One of these ancillaries, the sole survivor after the complete destruction of her ship and crew, is one the hunt for revenge against the most powerful woman in the empire. This series also does very cool things with gender!

Translation State by Ann Leckie*

An exploration of the alien as filtered through the human. At what point does the human become something else? When does something else become human? Is it a question of biology or culture, nature or nurture? Can we choose it? Can it be forced upon us? Set in the Imperial Radch universe, Translation State follows three different characters embroiled in the question of what makes a human. The alien Presger can only communicate with humans using their translators - people they’ve created that are not quite human and not quite alien. But as news of a translator fugitive arises, conflict brews regarding what right they have to choose their own identity and home.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe. This technically takes place in my series "Take A Chance On Me," after Soldier Boy and the reader have become a couple, but can be read as stand alone. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Series Masterlist

*********************************************************

Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

****************************************

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Take A Chance On Me Series, please let me know :)

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my other series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

OH we technically guessed it right, we are getting an episode with 3 after all. Hell yeah! For that, friends, we each get an ice cream (gonna get myself some mint chocolate chip)

Now that we have our snack, let's enjoy the episode, shall we?

(the following is my live reaction:)

(god i love the intro so much, it makes my brain happy like :3 I'm telling you it's my Saturday morning cartoon)

YOOO are we getting more of 3 and Bob dynamic? oh HELL YEAH!

You gotta admit, we've been waiting for interesting character dynamics!! This was the ones I was on my list ever since the "No TV Make Mario No Okie Dokie" episode (but fr can they be money-loving besties? for me specifically?)

"sugar" right......

Well..... I mean, they are pretty valuable. Which ones were they? Someone pass me some thin mints

Bob: "And I took those cookies from you!" Why do I imagine 3 pulling the whole "taking candy from a baby" scenario and steal a wagon of those cookies from a Girl Scout? Either that or 3's scout leader for the SMG4 Kids, Girl Scout being gender neutral. Eh, probably the former, but could you imagine? *secretly writes this down*

Y'know it would be crazy if it was in the daycare and it was the kids

their lil brave march into the daycare, that really got a giggle out of me hehe

Bob: "These are dangerous guys." He's not wrong, they can be scary sometimes

the RETURN of Gooby4.... oh....

*WOTFI 2024 flashbacks* 😶 huh. (let's just move on, ok?)

(update: yeah don't think I didn't see 3 with the brainrot smh)

3: "I'M TOO YOUNG AND GORGEOUS TO DIE" PFFT HAHAHA that seriously got me, that's good ......wait. y'know how I said that 3 might be insecure about his self-image? huh. well, guess what's gonna be a new addition to the tier list :D

MEGGY?

ah, that makes sense 😊↕️ look at her, she looks so happy like :>

oh gurl, not that you would know but that's not what they meant /lh

YAY the M&M (sibling) duo is here! ofc he would be

"sugar rush" HAHAHA man they really do be saying some great lines this episode

oop that little bit of animation with 3, love that they sneak those lil bits in

welp, worst person you can have to teach about how "sharing is caring" haha (if anyone's going to bring up the endorsement usb, that didn't count, let's be clear on that)

wait, hang on, I got another bit of these:

writer Ink: "...And then the rat gang surround Bob and pull out their cheese swords." producer Ink: "Wow, I get it'll be tough for him to get out of that situation." writer Ink: "Actually, it's going to be easy, barely an inconvenience!" producer Ink: "Oh, really?" writer Ink: "Yeah, he's just going to show off how hot he is and then the rats would die from his attractiveness. Like they would say 'Oh no, he's hot!'" producer Ink: "Every one of them?" writer Ink: "Every one of them." producer Ink: "Wow, I'm glad he was able to defeat them with the power of gay awakenings... or something, I can't tell." writer Ink: "I mean, is anyone in the SMG4 universe really a 100% straight and/or cis?" producer Ink: "Fair enough! But what about Francis?" writer Ink: "Hey, shut up (he's dead)"

/silly

anyway, look how happy 3 is, enjoying that story :)

as someone who watched all of the final destination and saw movies, 3's not wrong

me likey :D

hold on, how come the kids get a free cappuccino? I want one! I wanna try 3's coffee >:( /silly

Bob: "Please go the fuck to sleep" OMG I haven't heard this audio for SO LONG, it was bc the I was rewatching a 64 Blooper "Shoot to the Observatory in the Sky". For what? uuuh it's confidential for the time being, folks. anyway this really hit me with nostalgia like you have no idea

PFFT HAHAHAHAHA I might pass out oh fuck

idc what anyone says, this is the joke of all time

oh i hate that png of Mario and his teeth /lh

NO MARIO THAT'S NOT IT

AY now Mario can match with Pirate 4 from the "Mario PC Virus" episode

btw he's so sweet with the kids like 4 does 😭 (just unfortunately putting them in dangerous situations unintentionally, whoops)

*head in hands* naurrrrr

*wheeze* the cutaway from that tho

yep, everything coming together, huh boys?

c'mon Bob, you got us in this mess, just give them the money!!

😦 and we're fuuuuuuuuuucked

OUGH I felt that to my core. stepping on legos are the worst smh

YES lesson here, folks: adapt on the battlefield

OUGH i felt that AGAIN

See? Bob was right, kids are dangerous (if you give them the right stuff) 😊↕️

goddammit we were so close

the boss? MARTY?! OH SHIT HE'S BACK, I TOLD YALL

ik 3, ik but that's GOOD, for me specifically

I gotta love this moment bc genuinely Marty is a menacing villain if you think about every crime he's ever done but because he's a cardboard cutout, most of us in the audience don't really take him seriously. For 3 and Mario tho, being in WOTFI 2023 and the poisonous pasta sauce fiasco, they know what he's capable of but they can always kick his ass again, just like last time

please puzzles, can you recruit marty? it would be cool i swear

oh, is Marty going to be mad about what 3 did?

*blink blink* wha?

Oh, I guess we're gonna have to go with that narrative. Like I said, we gotta adapt. it's time to improvise!!

Marty: "I'll let this sugar incident slide...this time." 👀 this time?

OOP and the cops got him. wait. WAITWAITWAIT HE'S GOING TO JAIL! maybe not in the same row but MAYBE he's with Puzzles rn in the same jail!!

sorry, this is just so adorable to see 💙

one day, we'll get "I need a hero" (shrek 2 cover) on an episode *cough cough* PV plus *cough*. Hey, if I was able to manifest the "Friends on the Other Side" into the show, we can do this

😨 OWWWW THIS IS WORSE THAN THE LEGO I FELT THAT SOMEHOW

sidenote: I do love 3's sunglasses here, slay honestly! It kinda reminds me a lot of Shadow's from the Sonic calendar art, strange for me to just say that but it's true (one day I'll have "Mario in Sonic 3". one day.......)

YUP this is a different jail from last time!! Not that this would stop him from escaping but wouldn't it be cool if we... gee idk... have him recruited for some revenge thing. perhaps 👀

(Team, if you pan to the right and we see puzzles, I would scream)

Oh, but trust. the cardboard kid is gonna come back somehow. Probably not alive bc the one who did it for Marty was Mario (y'know, aka the Avatar), but this cutout's going to be important somehow

Congrats to ElisCZ for your art being featured in the end credits! 🎉 And anniversary fanart for Puzzlevision no less, hell yea!!

(hey Team, why Puzzles? Not that I hate the choice but any particular reason why? hmmm *sits cutely* /silly)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Wow, this was such a silly and fun episode! Seriously Team, you've done a great job, yall got be CRACKLING throughout the whole thing which isn't an easy feat. AND a 3 + Bob dynamic? I LOVE IT!! This was so good and I really hope we get to have more episodes like this, either with team-up dynamics or character exploration (like 3 in particular).

Now, as for my tier list I mentioned earlier, here's the updated version from the first one:

yep, 3's self-image issues are definitely in the "it keeps me up at night" pile 😌↕️

Anyway MARTY IS BACK!! Oh man, I'm REALLY hoping Puzzles would also recruit him into the revenge plan. He would be, dare I say it, perfect for it. Ok ok, you guys gotta see my (creative) vision here:

we will need Marty to transfer to solitary confinement row with Puzzles, or just have them in the same building, either one works

Then, for the next arc around June, WPNZ breaks Puzzles out of jail (and Marty uses the opportunity to get out of there too with his "son"), and then our two antagonists get a chance to have a whole arc for themselves to bond. y'know the whole strangers to friends to breakup (read: divorce) to reconciling. Hell, the Crew doesn't even need to be part of it at all, and that way we raise the stakes higher for the future. Side note: they didn't know Marty was in jail.

WOTFI 2025 would have Marty as the main anatagonist but this time, the whole Crew (yes. even Karen) would be there and once he's defeated but not killed, Puzzles would come and recruit him. Idk, probably for Marty losing his son or something bc of them.

THEN we get Puzzlevision Plus/IGBP 2 (+ the ultimate test of 3's character development if he gets recruited right before it)

😎 eh eh? how's that? *crickets* .....yea, like that's ever gonna happen hehe. I'll just uh. leave this in my concept vault and hopefully I'll get the fic out before the next arc. I wouldn't even count that tho if I were you. I really don't have much to say for this review other than that this was such an enjoyable episode, so have these instead:

Look at the cuties ^^. That's all from me, folks! I'll see yall in the next one, and remember: numbers always go first!

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Can you make a headcanon of Bakugo having a crush on a cool chill female senpai in the senior class? And possibly a super sweet love confession on her graduation day?

Aww, this is so cute! I hope you enjoy. ❤️✨

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki/DynaMight

Contents: f!reader, general fluff

Bakugou Katsuki/DynaMight

What do you mean? Bakugou is far too cool and tough to have something as pathetic as a crush. Him? Interested in some older girl who'll just look down at her nose at him? Yeah, right.

That's what Bakugou is telling himself the entire time he's scrolling through the UA Student Directory to find out the name of the cool-looking chick who stopped him on the way to the cafeteria to hand him a soda, telling him it was his cut of her winnings on a bet she placed on his second year Sports Festival finale match.

"I bet on you to win, of course. And you didn't get yourself muzzled this time. That's progress, dude. Keep winning for me, huh?"

"Wha—? Hah!? I didn't win for you!" he blusters, scarlet at the unexpected interaction.

Too late. You were already gone, waving casually as you headed off to wherever the hell you were going. Worse still, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were all standing around, grinning at him like idiots.

Kaminari bats his eyelashes. "Keep winning for me too, Kacchan—" he exclaims in a breathy voice, before Bakugou shoves him in a supply closet and jams the door shut.

Bakugou keeps the soda, but doesn't drink it. It sits on his desk next to his laptop, so he can glare at it while he tries to find out who the hell you are. He's scrolling, scrolling past an infinite sea of faces until her face—your face—jumps out at him. He clicks to bring up your profile and scowls at your enlarged photo. You're a third year, technically his senpai.

"Tch. Old hag."

There's nothing haglike about your behaviour, though. You greet him casually in the hallways, sometimes mentioning if you've seen him on TV or heard about him causing more chaos, which seems to amuse you more than anything else.

"Did you really call that reporter a 'douche' live on air? He was kind of a jackass, huh? Thinking he was some hard-hitting journalist on what was meant to be a puff piece."

Bakugou's replies are usually surly and monosyllabic, but he does start to give you a "Yeah. Whatever. Bye." when you walk away. He waits until your back is turned to watch you go. He still hasn't opened the soda.

His friends rib him about his senpai girlfriend, ignoring his murderous glares and vehement denials. Eventually, he just tells them to shut the hell up and stops bothering to correct them.

He's looking for you in the halls after his latest villain takedown got caught on camera, and it pisses him off that he's seeking you out. He doesn't need your approval.

(Yes, he does.)

A knot of tension loosens between his shoulders when he hears your voice behind him. "Yo, DynaMight. Still giving out the bad guy beatdowns, I see."

"As if you should expect any less, idiot."

Despite how good he is at Pro Hero work, Bakugou isn't used to having a fan—he doesn't count that damn nerd—but it adds a weight to everything he does, when he thinks you might be watching.

Things come to a head the day you graduate from UA High School. Normally younger students wouldn't be at the ceremony, just the graduating class, but you spot a head of spiky blond hair loitering at the back.

Bakugou scowls at you when you approach, but you ignore that. His face is just kind of arranged that way. He thrusts something at you—a very familiar looking can of soda, now somewhat dented.

"Warm soda. My fave."

"Tch. Shut up." Bakugou points a finger at you. "You might be graduating, old lady, but don't you dare start looking down on me. I'm gonna win the Sports Festival again in third year, and then I'm gonna become the Number One Hero when I graduate. You better be watching."

You grin at him. "Oh, I will be."

There's a pause. He glares at you expectantly.

"Sooo..." you say. "You want my number or what?"

Bakugou immediately shoves his phone at you—his case is orange and red with a grenade pop socket—avoiding your gaze. "Whatever."