#highschool is just a temporary setting

[goldenbrowns]

LITTLE TROUBLE GIRL ✩ || dbf!bucky barnes x f!reader || part one

(NEXT CHAPTER)

summary: You’re starting college in New York, and Bucky, your dad's best friend, has offered you a place to stay—just until you find your footing. It’s temporary; you're staying with him until you're able to settle down. But living with him is nothing like you expected, considering you've always had an innocent crush on him, even when you were little. The late nights, the easy laughter, the way his eyes linger just a little too long—it all starts to blur the lines. Just like that, your innocent crush on Bucky turns into something more crude.

author's note: this is an au where the winter soldier never happened, he's just good ol' buck, your dad's best friend :D

word count: 9.6k

warnings: age gap (reader is twenty and bucky is in his late thirties), alcohol consumption, tiny bit of angst towards the end, cursing, implied sexual themes, bucky is a little jealous and possesive.

You’re supposed to be packing. You really are.

But instead, you’re sitting on your bedroom floor, staring at the pile of clothes in front of you like they’re suddenly alien to you. Jeans. T-shirts. Sweaters you’ve had since the ninth grade. You think about how many of these things you haven’t worn in months, maybe even years, but now that you're moving, you swear you have to bring them. It’s like they’re your security blanket, like you can’t just let go. You’re leaving your hometown for good. Going to New York for college. The city. Your future. The dream.

But right now, it doesn’t feel like that at all.

Instead, it feels like the more you try to pack, the more everything around you gets heavier.

You shove a pile of clothes into the suitcase with less grace than you care to admit. You don’t know what to expect in New York, but part of you kind of just wants to stay here where everything’s familiar—even if everything about here kind of sucks sometimes. The awfully familiar cloudy days, the stubbornly old-fashioned people, the same neighbours you've known all your life… It's difficult to let go, but things like these make leaving your hometown all the easier.

Just as you were staring off into a wall, probably purposefully wasting time, your dad’s voice breaks into your thoughts.

"You all set?" He leans against your doorframe with a grin. At least someone was sure about all of this—even when you weren’t. Honestly, you’d bet he was more excited about the move than you were. New York had always been his dream for you. A chance to give you everything he never had growing up. All the opportunities he never got. Obviously when you took a sabbatical year after highschool he was pissed, so know that he's sure your heading to college he couldn't be happier. So, there you were, freshly twenty and off to college.

You stop. You freeze, one sneaker in midair as if it’s suddenly the heaviest thing in the world. Obviously, he knew this wasn't easy for you. He watched your expression drop the second he walked in. Everything slowly seeming more real to you than ever.

"Come on, everything’s going to be fine. Besides—hey, you’re staying with Buck for a while!" He lifts a hand in the air like that alone should fix everything. "He promised he’d make things easier for you. He’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart."

And for a second, it actually helps. That soft spot in your chest loosens just a little.

Because no, you’re not leaving everything behind. Staying with James—Buck—meant keeping at least one thread tied to home. A glimpse of your dad, your family, the place you grew up in. Something familiar to hold onto while everything else was changing. James Buchanan Barnes. The guy you’ve known forever. Your dad’s best friend. The guy who visits your house every holiday, makes a big deal about how grown-up you’re getting, who’s always laughing, always joking, and always just... there. He's the guy. But still, the fact that you were staying with him out of all people is absolutely daunting.

You haven’t seen him in a while—two, maybe three years? He used to visit a few times a year without fail—once for your dad's birthday and the rest again for the holidays and summer. He doesn’t come around as much anymore. Not because something’s wrong. If anything, it’s the opposite. Work’s just gotten more demanding for him. More cases. More clients. More responsibility. So technically, things are going great for him. Better than ever, really. Still, it doesn’t stop that tiny flicker of disappointment you feel whenever he misses a visit. Like some little piece of your old routine just��� fades out. 

When you were younger, you didn’t really notice how much he stood out. He was just a figure at family gatherings—he always had something funny to say, and you’d laugh at his dry sarcasm and the way his eyes always seemed to light up when he caught your attention. He was a permanent fixture in your life, like a distant relative you didn’t see enough of but still had a special place for.

But then, you turned fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. And suddenly, it was impossible not to notice.

The way he stood—relaxed, confident, like he owned the space around him without even trying. Broad shoulders that stretched the sleeves of his dress shirts just right, one hand always tucked into his pocket and the other one always holding on to a beer — which also, always seemed to be a Heineken—  like he had all the time in the world. His jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. And he somehow made wearing a stupidly expensive leather jacket look like the most casual thing in the world—like he didn’t know how good he looked in it. Except, deep down, you were pretty sure he did.

He always smelled like something expensive—cologne and clean laundry, with just a little bit of city air clinging to him. Something which always made you so curious. To your 12-year-old self, Buck was your glimpse into the city. His hair was always neat but not overly styled, like he’d run a hand through it once and called it a day. And his smile was the real problem. Easy, charming, lopsided in a way that made it feel like it was just for you, even though you knew it wasn’t, it was always for one of those little girlfriends he brought every year and decided to invite on his trip. 

It wasn’t like you were in love with him or anything. It was just… you noticed. You noticed everything.

As the years went by, something shifted. The way he looked at you sometimes. The way his eyes lingered just a second longer than you were comfortable with. The way he called you kid like he was trying to remind himself that’s what you were—and that’s all you were—whenever your thoughts seemed to go somewhere they shouldn’t.

But you’ve always pushed that aside. He’s your dad’s best friend. He’s… untouchable. Not that you would ever do anything about it.

But now? Now you’re moving in with him, and you have no idea how to feel about it or how to carry yourself around him.

Your dad is still standing there, waiting for a response. He’s in that spot where he’s practically bouncing.

"You’re sure about this, right?"

You force a smile, trying to make it seem like the fact that you're moving in with him doesn’t bother you at all. At this point, you didn’t know how it made you feel, it had its ups and downs… It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Right?

“Yeah, Dad. Totally fine,” you say, and you really hope you sound convincing. The truth is, you’re not sure what you’re even supposed to be feeling. Is this supposed to be an adventure? Because you don’t feel like it. You feel like maybe you’ve made a huge mistake and that there’s no way you’ll be able to look Bucky in the eye without turning into a human tomato.

Your dad beams at you, oblivious to the small storm brewing in your stomach. “Good. You know Bucky. He’s a great guy. He’ll look after you. It’ll be fine.”

Yeah, Bucky’s a “great guy.” Everyone says that—and it’s true. He’s always been there for your dad, always quick with advice or a sarcastic joke to pull him out of a bad mood. He’s steady, dependable, the kind of guy people trust without thinking twice. You’ve always known that.

But living with him? That’s a whole different ballgame.

You’re not your dad. You don’t have that effortless bond with Bucky—the one built on decades of inside jokes and shared mistakes. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time you had a real conversation with him. Outside of the usual “how’s school?” or the occasional “got a boyfriend yet?” And now you're about to move into his home like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

The thing is, Bucky’s always been this constant in your life—this person you’ve admired from a distance, someone you’ve always thought of as off-limits. You’ve never let yourself go too deep into it, but now it's a little different. You'll be living with him every day for god knows how long.

The airport felt colder than usual. Not because of the air conditioning, but because of everything else—the goodbye hugs that lingered too long, your mom pretending she wasn’t crying, your dad cracking one too many nervous jokes, his teary eyes catching the lights. You smiled through it, made it look easy. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you weren’t terrified.

But as you walked away from them and toward the gate, something settled heavily in your chest. That weird, aching feeling of moving on.

You didn’t cry. Not really. That would probably come later. You just stared out the window of the plane, watching the ground peel away beneath you, smaller and smaller until it was just a blur. That was home down there. Your whole life, packed into backyards and gas stations and little streets you could navigate blindfolded. Gone now—just like that.

You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to spiral about living in a city you didn’t know, in an apartment that wasn’t yours, with a man who barely knew the version of you that wasn’t still seventeen.

The name alone made your thoughts twist up a little. Bucky. Just Bucky, really. Your dad’s best friend. The guy who used to toss you in the pool when you were a kid, chase you around the yard with the grill fork, and ruffle your hair like you were one of the boys.

You thought about that for a while—until the all-familiar town beneath you started to disappear under the clouds. Fields of green came into view, sharp and endless. You pressed your forehead to the window and tried to imagine your life away from that skyline somehow. The sun had started to set, and the sky had started to fluctuate between hues of oranges and yellows.

Everyone on the plane looked like some version of home. Guys in faded baseball caps talking too loud, moms with bleached-blonde hair and dark roots flipping through gossip magazines, teenagers glued to their phones with chipped acrylics and chewed-up straws poking out of Styrofoam cups. You’d grown up surrounded by people like this—faces that blurred together in the same familiar way.

You sank into your window seat, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as the plane rumbled up into the clouds. The turbulence didn’t bother you much—what unsettled you was everything else. So you did what you could to tune it out.

You flagged down the flight attendant and ordered a drink— something fruity, a Coke, whatever... As she walked away, you pressed your forehead against the cool window and watched the sky melt into pale blue.

As you stepped out of your plane and walked through the boarding bridge, you felt a chilly breeze, a bit cooler than you were expecting. He was already leaning against the car when you finally reached the terminal, scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere to be—which, of course, made him look even more annoyingly cool.

Black jeans, dark coat, sunglasses hooked onto the front of his shirt like some effortless accessory. He looked older than you remembered—sharper, broader—but not in a tired way. More like someone who’d grown into himself. Owned it. He had a few specks of gray on his beard now, more than you remembered him having, even though, honestly, that was the only indicator of him having gotten older.

He glanced up and did a double-take, almost like he didn't recognize you. His brows lifted, and his mouth quirked into that crooked half-smile you vaguely remembered from years ago. You began walking to him, dragging your carry-on right behind you.

“Damn,” he said, pushing off the car, “you’re taller than I thought you’d be. These three years have obviously been long. When did you turn into an actual person?”

You snorted. “Nice to see you too.”

“I’m serious,” he said, even though his tone was anything but. “Last time I saw you, you had braces and were crying over one of the One Direction guys.”

“Okay—first of all, rude. And second, it was Harry, I had taste”

That earned you a soft laugh as he reached for your suitcase. “Alright, alright. Still dramatic, I see. Guess some things don’t change.”

He tossed the bag into the trunk like it weighed nothing and opened the passenger door for you with a mockingly formal gesture.

“Your ride awaits." He opened both of his arms, palms out, signaling to the car door he was opening for you.

You rolled your eyes and slid into the car. The inside was just as nice as it looked from the outside—clean, sleek, and smelling like leather and whatever cologne he used, clearly the same one he's always used.

He got in, started the engine, and glanced over at you. “Seatbelt. Not tryna get sued your first week in the city.”

As he pulled out of the parking lot, the silence in the car wasn’t awkward. Just... charged. Like the air between you hadn’t settled yet.

“So,” he said after a beat, “you nervous, or just pretending to be too cool for this?”

You shrugged, feeling taken aback that he had deciphered you so quickly. “Little of both.”

“Hm. Classic.” He smirked, eyes still on the road. “You know, I offered to let your dad send you to a nunnery, but he insisted college was the move.”

You burst out laughing. “Right, because that would’ve been way less awkward.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “You and a bunch of nuns in New York? That’s a sitcom waiting to happen.”

The city rose around you in glowing towers, stretching high and endless into the night sky. Streetlights flickered over glossy pavement, casting everything in a wash of warm gold and cool silver. Neon signs buzzed quietly outside corner bodegas and late-night diners, while car headlights weaved in and out like fireflies in motion. The air itself seemed to hum—thick with life, noise, energy. It was all so alive. And you were right in the middle of it.

As Bucky’s car slipped deeper into the city, you pressed your hand against the window, eyes following the blur of strangers rushing past. A woman in heels and a power suit shouting into her phone. A group of teens laughing way too loudly on a corner. A man on a bike with a pizza box. Every single person looked like they belonged here—like they had somewhere to be, something to do. And they all moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing how this city worked.

You sat there quietly, just watching, feeling the shift happen inside you. This wasn’t just a trip. It wasn’t summer vacation. This was real.

You were here. For good.

And in exactly 13 hours, at 10:00 AM sharp, you’d be sitting in your first college class.

You weren’t sure if the tight feeling in your chest was nerves or excitement. Maybe both. Everything felt huge—too big to grasp all at once. You wanted to slow it down, bottle it up, make sense of it all. But the city didn’t wait for you to catch up. It just kept moving.

“You’re quiet,” Bucky said, looking at you from the corner of his eye, his voice cutting through the hum of the engine and the soft, distant sounds of the city.

You blinked, pulling your gaze away from the window. He didn’t look at you—his eyes were fixed on the road, fingers tapping idly against the wheel. Casual, but not careless. Like he knew exactly what was going on in your head without needing to ask.

“I’m just… taking it all in,” you said.

He let out a low, amused breath. “Yeah? You’ve got the same look you used to get on the diving board—right before chickening out.”

You turned your head, incredulous. “I didn’t chicken out. I was calculating. And I'm not planning to chicken out now either...”

“That’s what you called it?” He smirked. “Standing there for fifteen minutes while every kid behind you prayed for patience?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

The light changed, and the car moved forward again, gliding through quieter streets now. The city still sparkled outside the window—still alive, still moving—but it didn’t feel as loud in this pocket of calm. Just you and Bucky, in his leather-scented car that felt safer than you expected it to.

After a moment, he spoke again—quieter this time.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

You looked over at him.

He wasn't looking at you anymore, but his jaw ticked slightly, like he was thinking through every word before he said it. “You’re smart. Capable. You’ve got guts—Hell, you're a pretty girl too. You've got the whole world at the palm of your hand.”

You let out a soft laugh, but he kept going.

“And you’re not alone in this. I’m here,” he said simply. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was warm. Solid. Like something you could lean into.

You watched him for a second longer, the way the passing streetlights painted soft lines across his face, the way he looked so sure when you didn’t.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

The car pulled up to a sleek building tucked between a coffee shop and a high-end florist, all steel and glass and glowing lobby lights. It didn’t scream wealth, not in a flashy way—but everything about it whispered money. Subtle.

Bucky cut the engine and turned to you, one hand still on the wheel. “Alright, city girl. Welcome home.”

You blinked up at the building. “This place is… nice.”

He smirked, unbuckling his seatbelt. “That’s the least convincing ‘nice’ I’ve ever heard.”

“No, I mean it,” you said, stepping out. “It’s just... fancy. I didn’t think lawyers lived like this.”

He popped the trunk. “We don’t. But when you start working eighty-hour weeks and don’t have time for a life, you gotta spend your money somewhere. Might as well be rent.”

You followed him into the building, your suitcase rolling behind you on polished tile. The lobby smelled like eucalyptus and something vaguely citrusy. You tried not to stare at the concierge desk—or the massive chandelier above your head—but you caught Bucky glancing sideways at you anyway.

“Try to look like you’ve been somewhere before,” he muttered, grinning.

You elbowed him. “Says the guy who wore aviators at night.”

“Touché.”

The elevator ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Bucky leaned back against the wall with his hands in his coat pockets, glancing at you now and then like he was still trying to believe you were the same kid who used to sneak cookies off the grill during backyard cookouts.

The doors opened on the twelfth floor. His place was at the end of the hall—tall black door, a single matte number, no unnecessary frills.

When he let you in, the first thing you noticed was how him it felt. Everything in the apartment was clean and dark and structured—deep grays, worn leathers, low lighting—but there were warm things too. Books stacked unevenly on the coffee table. A vinyl player with an open sleeve beside it. A pair of reading glasses he’d never admit to needing resting near the counter.

“Home sweet home,” he said, tossing his keys into a bowl by the door. “Shoes off if you don’t wanna catch a lecture. Kitchen’s there, bathroom’s down the hall, you’re in the guest room.”

You stood there a moment, just taking it all in.

He gave you a look. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “Yeah. Yup!”

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry,” he added, that lopsided smirk creeping in again, “you’ve got me. You’ll be fine.”

The guest room was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of the city slipping through the window. You didn’t bother turning on the overhead light—just opened your suitcase and started putting things away, slowly, like moving too fast would make it all feel too real.

Everything in the room felt untouched. Neutral. Like it had been prepped for someone who might never show up. The dresser drawers slid open without a sound, the bedding was crisp, and the closet smelled faintly of cedar. It was strange. Not cold, just unfamiliar. Like you were living in a showroom version of someone else's life.

You folded clothes into neat stacks and arranged your things on the nightstand—lip balm, your headphones, a paperback with a cracked spine. You paused at a photo of you and your parents, half-smiling at the way your mom’s hand was always in your dad’s back pocket. They’d driven you to the airport earlier today, pretending not to cry when you hugged them goodbye.

Now you were here.

You caught your reflection in the mirror for a second too long, pulled your hair up into a lazy bun, and put on some pajamas you had packed back at home with cats and dogs printed all over the fabric. As soon as you finished you you left your room and slipped into the living room quietly.

From the kitchen came the soft clink of silverware and the low simmer of something on the stove. Music played faintly from a speaker tucked somewhere, something very 80s sounding. Warm light pooled from under the cabinets, and Bucky stood over the stove, his back to you, sleeves pushed up and brow slightly furrowed as he stirred a pan.

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your footsteps. “There she is.” He cooed excitedly.

You offered a half-smile. “There I am.”

He turned down the heat, grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet, and poured a deep red into each without asking. He handed you one as you leaned against the counter beside him.

“You cook now?” you asked, taking the glass.

He shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s either this or takeout again, and I figured you deserve a proper meal on your first night.”

You took a sip, and the wine was smooth, expensive. Of course.

“Thanks,” you said.

He just nodded, lips tugging into something close to a smile before he walked toward the living room and sank into the corner of the couch with his own glass. You followed after a moment, curling into the opposite side, your legs folded under you.

The room was quiet, but not awkwardly so. You watched the steam rise from the kitchen, heard the occasional sizzle from the stove. The city lights flickered in through the windows behind him.

“You good? I feel like I've asked this 50 times just today,” he asked eventually with a soft laugh, not looking directly at you.

You paused, then nodded. “Getting there.”

“Good, that's a start. ‘Cause I meant what I said earlier. You don’t have to figure everything out in one night. Y'know, I haven't always lived here, when I got here it was also terrifying for me,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass. “You’ve got time. You’ve got space. And I’m here. Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”

You glanced at him, heart tightening at how casual he made it sound, like it was no big deal. But it was. No one had ever said something like that to you without needing anything in return.

“Thanks,” you said again, softer this time.

He smirked slightly. “You already said that.”

You gasp in feigned offense, clutching a hand to your chest, "Alright, well- You don't see me saying you've repeated your inspirational speech 30 times already, do you?"

He only squinted his eyes and tilted his glass towards you as if to point at you, "You've got a mouth on you, don't you? Calm down before I leave you to starve," He laughs, and just after that, he stands up to turn off the fire.

He moves with ease, like he’s done this a hundred times—turning knobs, checking the sauce, grabbing plates from a cabinet you wouldn’t have guessed held anything. You stay curled up on the couch, glass of wine resting on your thigh, watching him in the kitchen like you’re still not used to seeing him like this—domestic, relaxed, a little smug in the way he smirks to himself after a joke.

“You wouldn’t actually let me starve,” you call out as an attempt to not remain quiet.

“Wouldn’t I?” he shoots back over his shoulder, then opens the fridge with his hip. “I don’t know. You’re in my house now. Could be survival of the fittest.”

You snort into your wine. “Please. I’d eat half your pantry before you even noticed.”

He grins at that, setting a pan on a trivet and dishing out pasta onto two plates. “God, you sound like your dad.”

“That’s rude.”

“Hm, wouldn't say so. It's accurate.” His back was still turned to you as you watched the muscles in his back move after every scoop he set down onto both of the plates.

He walks over and sets one plate down in front of you on the coffee table, then hands you a fork. The pasta smells incredible—creamy, garlicky, with grilled chicken cut into perfect slices like he’s trying to impress someone. Maybe he is.

He drops down beside you with his own plate, elbows brushing for a second as he settles in. The couch dips beneath his weight, the apartment humming with soft music and the faint sounds of the city outside. It’s warm. Not just physically—though, yeah, the wine helps—but in a way that creeps in slow and stays there.

“Okay,” you murmur after a few bites. “This is actually good.”

He raises a brow. “You sound surprised.”

“I’ve only ever seen you drink black coffee, beer and eat beef jerky.”

He stabs a piece of pasta and shrugs. “People contain multitudes. Can't imagine you know much about that,” He laughs, aware that he's egging you on.

You look over at him, and he catches your eye just as he takes a bite. There’s something playful in his expression, but underneath it, something softer. Steady. You chew slowly, then ask, quieter this time, “Why are you being so nice to me?” He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just sets his fork down and leans back slightly.

“Because I care about you,” he says simply. “You’re not just your dad’s kid. You’re... you. And I’ve known you your whole life. You think I’m gonna let you land here and not look after you?” You blink once, then again, unsure what to say.

So instead, you say, “You’re getting soft in your old age.”

He laughs—a real, warm, low laugh—and shakes his head. “You wish.”

Time had slipped away somewhere between the second glass and the lazy way Bucky laughed at his own stories. Now, with plates cleared and nothing but the low hum of the city beyond the windows, the two of you sat across from each other on the couch, your legs tucked under you, a little warmer than before. The wine had softened your limbs and whatever awkwardness that might’ve once existed between you had faded into something more… comfortable. Charged, maybe. But quiet.

It was easy like this. Easier than you’d expected. He asked questions. Real ones. Not just “how’s school” or “what’s your major,” but actual questions.

“What do you want from it all?” he’d asked earlier. “Like, when it’s all said and done—what’s the picture?”

You’d stared at him like he’d just unlocked a hidden door in your head. You didn’t answer that one. Not fully. It wasn't like you really knew how to answer it either. You said something about self-fulfilment, and he seemed happy enough with that answer.

Now, he was grinning behind the rim of his glass, eyes just a little more hooded than usual, and much more loose than the mysterious guy who picked you up from the airport earlier. “So,” he said, drawing out the word. “Boys.”

You groaned immediately, leaning your head back into the cushion. “God, no.”

“What?” he asked, all mock innocence. “You don’t want to talk about your tragic love life with good ol' Buck over overpriced wine and homemade pasta?”

“No,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “You’re being nosy.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth but never quite reached both sides. “Guilty as charged,” he replied, his eyes warm as he looked at you. “But seriously, I’m curious. You’re smart, funny, sharp as hell—don’t tell me none of those boys ever tried anything.”

You shifted on the couch, feeling the heat in your cheeks, but you tried to play it off. “The problem is that they have. But, where is this coming from?”

Bucky shrugged, swirling his wine in his glass, but his gaze never left you. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice lowering a fraction. “I guess I’m just noticing... you’ve grown up. That’s all.”

His words and the way he enunciated the word 'grown' hit you more than you expected. You shook your head, trying to mask the way your chest tightened. “You make it sound like I used to be a troll.”

Bucky gave a low laugh, leaning back into the couch, but his eyes were still watching you closely, studying you. “Oh, but you were,” he teased, eyes crinkling at the edges. “You used to throw rocks at me.”

You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “That was once.”

“That was three summers in a row,” he corrected, his tone playful, like he was remembering a version of you that had changed in ways he hadn’t expected.

For a second, everything felt easy again. Familiar. The laughter felt like it bridged the gap between who you were now and who you used to be, and you let it fill the space between you. But then the conversation took a shift, and the air between you seemed to thicken with something else.

“So, no serious boyfriends?” he asked again, like he was trying to make sense of it.

You glanced down at your glass, your fingers tracing the rim absently. “Not really. Nothing that stuck.”

Bucky leaned forward a bit, his tone softening, like he was really trying to understand. “Let me guess—emotionally unavailable, talks in memes, and thinks texting you ‘wyd’ at 2 a.m. is romantic?”

You laughed, the sound catching in your throat, but he didn’t let up. “Don't forget the unsolicited Snapchat dickpics,” you sighed, remembering all the times you've had to endure opening Snapchat to see pubescent dicks on your screen.

Bucky’s lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyebrows raising just slightly. “Seriously?” he teased, leaning in a bit closer, the playful glint in his eyes growing sharper. “Do they think that’s supposed to impress you? What—suddenly, you're gonna be swept off your feet by a 20-year-old’s bad lighting picture of their dick?”

You scoffed, taking a sip of your wine. "Apparently... Either way, I'm not looking for a guy who decides to do that sort of thing for attention. It's so pathetic."

He smirked, taking another sip of his wine, but his gaze was more intense now, steady on you. “So what is it, then?” he asked, the words slow and deliberate. “What are you looking for?”

The question caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected it, and for a moment, you wondered if you even had an answer. But the wine made you brave enough to be honest, even if you didn’t want to be. You set your glass down, thinking carefully. “I don’t know. I guess... someone who makes me feel like I don’t have to try so hard all the time. Who doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much. Something that clearly guys my age are not willing to supply.” You didn't mean the last sentence like that, you didn't have some sort of underhanded motive.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to you, amused, and he took a slow sip of his wine. He set the glass down with a soft clink. “Guys your age, huh? Yeah, I get it. You’ve got that ‘too much’ vibe—guess it’s just a lot for them to handle.”

You raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback but not enough to let him off the hook. “You say guys my age can’t handle me? So, guys your age can?”

The smirk that spread across Bucky’s face made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand. He leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass with casual confidence, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he started, his voice dropping an octave, sincere, “I’ve handled a lot worse. And I think, personally, I would be able to keep up just fine.”

There was a long pause. You could feel the weight of his stare, but you couldn’t look away, not now. Bucky held your gaze without blinking, his expression softer now. As if he had just now noticed what he said, he quickly changed the topic. “Anyway...That thing you said about being too much. You're not, don't let anybody tell you that," he said, his voice quiet but sure. “You just haven’t been around the right people.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it, and for a moment, it felt like everything shifted again, like something unspoken was hanging in the air. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond, but the warmth in your chest was a clear indication that maybe you didn’t need to say anything at all.

You laughed weakly, trying to regain some composure. “You always talk like that?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. “Only after two glasses.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle and leaned back against the couch, his arm brushing lightly against yours. He didn't pull away. The air between you felt like it was thickening, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. It was as if everything that had been left unsaid before had finally come to the surface, and there was no turning back.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for it to feel like a secret shared only between the two of you. “You know, if I were your age, I’d be in real trouble.”

Your stomach twisted, your breath catching. “What do you mean?”

Bucky smirked, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just saying,” he added, leaning back again, like he hadn’t just said something that made your heart race. “I’d be in real trouble.”

The quiet between you felt heavier now, more charged. You could feel the pull between you, the way he was still looking at you, waiting for you to say something. But then he cleared his throat, stood up with a stretch, and changed the subject like he hadn’t just set something off between you.

“Well, I better get dessert before I say something else I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice light but the way his eyes lingered on you made it hard to shake the feeling that the conversation wasn’t quite over. Not yet.

You watched him head toward the kitchen, your chest tight and your mind spinning. It wasn’t just the wine. It wasn’t just the long drive to New York. Something had shifted. Something was different now.

You stayed frozen for a moment, your fingers curled loosely around your glass as you tried to piece together what had just happened. His voice still echoed in your head—I’d be in real trouble. The way he said it, soft and low, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all. Like it slipped out before he could catch it.

You bit your lip and set the glass down, glancing toward the kitchen. You could hear him rustling through cabinets, the clink of plates, the hum of the fridge door opening. Just regular, domestic sounds. But they didn’t match the pace of your heartbeat.

You stood and walked over, slower than usual, like your legs had to catch up with your thoughts. He had a carton of ice cream out and was pretending like everything was normal. Too normal. His back was turned, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight stiffness in the way he moved. Like he was aware of your presence—too aware.

“You always do this?” you asked, leaning against the counter, trying to sound casual. “Fluster college girls with red wine and chocolate chip?”

He looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Fluster you?” he asked with a smirk, placing two bowls on the counter. “I’m just offering dessert, sweetheart. If that’s flustering you, I’m not sure you’re ready for this city.”

You gave him a look, but couldn’t stop your smile from forming. “Right. Of course. Just dessert.”

He turned fully then, slid one of the bowls toward you, the metal spoon clinking against the porcelain. “Eat before I say something worse than earlier.”

You took a bite, letting the silence hang just long enough to feel heavy again. Then, more quietly, you asked, “What would be worse, though?”

He paused with his own spoon halfway to his mouth. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he set the spoon down, leaned on the cushions with his arms crossed, and looked at you—really looked at you.

“Depends,” he said slowly. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head, a little too fast. “No. Just… caught me off guard.”

“Good,” he said, but the word came out softer than his usual snark. “Because I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. You being here—this whole thing—it matters to me.”

And there it was again. That shift. That soft, honest side of him was slipping through the cracks in his usual cool exterior. You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded, eyes meeting his for a second longer than they probably should’ve. And you let him, even if your thoughts kept drifting right back to that quiet little thing he said earlier.

If I were your age, I’d be in real trouble.

It had been two weeks since that first night, and the quiet tension between you and Bucky hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten harder to ignore.

You’d settled into the apartment like you'd always belonged there. Your stuff was neatly unpacked, your laundry now mixed with his in the hamper, and his coffee order was memorized without him needing to say it out loud. There were toothbrushes side by side in the bathroom, your shoes by the front door, and the casual rhythm of living together had grown… intimate, in a way you couldn’t explain.

But you hadn’t touched it—the conversation, the weight of his stare that night, the words that left your heart skipping. Neither of you had. Instead, you danced around it, letting your comfort grow while pretending everything was still casual.

In the meantime, life had started to take on shape. You’d started to find a routine between classes, wandering the city, and spending way too much time with Sophia—your new friend who had quickly become your lifeline. You met during orientation and clicked almost instantly, like fate had decided you both needed each other. Now, you talked every day. She knew your class schedule better than you did, reminded you to eat, sent you Tiktoks at midnight, and picked up on your mood from just a single text. You told her everything.

You hadn’t planned on spilling it so quickly, but it all came out one night over FaceTime—his apartment, the wine, the flirting, the tension. You’d half-expected her to freak out, to say it was insane or inappropriate. But she didn’t. She’d just blinked at you, then grinned and said, “Girl, you’re living in a slow-burn, how the fuck are you managing?"

Now, she asked about Bucky daily. She teased you when he picked you up from class, rolled her eyes when you claimed things were “normal,” and insisted you start taking notes so she could read the novel version later.

Apart from Sophia, there was this other guy who had randomly started getting closer to you, Luke.

Luke was in one of your classes, and you'd started working on group projects together since the first week. He was a bit awkward but sweet, and his humor grew on you over time. You didn’t think much of it at first, but over the past couple of weeks, he had started texting you almost every day. At first, the texts were nothing special—"Hey, can you send me those notes?" or "How’s your day going?"—but they quickly became more frequent. He would text you random things during the day, asking how you were, what you were doing, and even what your weekend plans were.

It was innocent enough, but you had the feeling it wasn’t entirely platonic on his part. Sophia had certainly noticed it. "Girl, he’s into you. Stop being blind," she'd said one day when Luke had texted you again. “You two have been texting more than I’ve seen anyone text their boyfriend.” Something which made you feel a little weird about the whole situation, given that you never thought about it like that. If anything, you saw him as a little brother; he was too skittish, too sheepish, not really your type.

Today, though, you’d come home late from class, bag slung low on your shoulder, exhaustion in your limbs. Your makeup was worn off, your hair in a messy bun, and you hadn’t even had the energy to fake a smile when you stepped through the door.

Bucky was on the couch, already out of his button-down and in a gray t-shirt and sweats, reading something on his tablet with glasses on—glasses you hated how much you liked. He looked up the second you entered.

“Jesus,” he muttered, setting the tablet down. “You look like you just fought a war.”

“I am in college,” you grumbled, kicking your shoes off by the door. “Same thing.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Rough day?”

You sighed, dragging yourself toward the kitchen. “Group project. Too much homework, I'm sweaty, I'm hungry... ”

He stood up. “Okay. Nope. We’re not doing this today.” He walked over and took your bag off your shoulder before you could argue. “Shoes off. Bag down. You’re officially off duty.”

“I wasn’t aware you were my manager,” you said with a small eye roll.

“I’m everything in this house,” he replied, guiding you gently toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll handle food. You like pad thai, right?”

You blinked at him. “Since when do you remember that?”

He smirked. “Since you ordered it three times last week, and I’m not blind.”

You laughed, melting a little as you collapsed into the cushions. “You’re dangerously close to being my favorite person.”

“I was hoping I’d at least make top three,” you saw him placing bowls and spices in the counter, with the concentration of a man on a mission.

You sank deeper into the couch, letting your eyes flutter closed. Ten minutes later, he returned with two glasses of wine, handing you one before sliding in beside you. He’d queued up a movie—something black and white, with dramatic jazz and smoky bars.

The movie flickered on in the background, casting black-and-white shadows across the apartment walls while you lounged on the couch, wine glass resting on your thigh. The soft sounds of rustling in the kitchen reminded you that he had stood up at some point and quietly made his way to the kitchen to check on the food—he was plating the pad thai.

Your phone buzzed.

Sophia: Still no kiss? Babe. What do I have to do? Fly up and knock your heads together?

You huffed a laugh and texted back quickly.

You: I am currently being forced to watch black-and-white murder mysteries. He remembered I like pad thai and also brought me wine. I hate him.

Sophia: Bitch he’s flirting. That’s flirting. That’s “I want to ruin you” flirting.

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“What?” Bucky asked, glancing over at you.

“Nothing,” you said too fast, shaking your head.

He gave you a suspicious look. “Uh huh. That’s the ‘I’m talking shit about you’ face.”

“I would never,” you said, putting a hand to your heart in mock offense.

His eyes narrowed playfully. “Is it Sophia?”

You froze. “...Maybe.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “She’s the one that calls me Hot Lawyer, isn’t she?”

Your jaw dropped. “How did you—”

“You leave your phone around the apartment a lot. And well- she also texts you a whole lot, so it's been difficult to miss her messages," He said with an all-knowing grin, so proud that he's caught you.

Your face went red hot. “Okay, that’s—please shut up.”

At some point, he decided to stop and free you from the awkwardness of the whole situation and shut up. Bucky returned with the plates, carefully balancing two steaming bowls of homemade pad thai and a tray of carefully prepped sides. He set them down between you both, the aroma of toasted peanuts and lime cutting through the cold air of the apartment.

“Dinner’s served,” he said, quiet but composed, as if trying too hard to keep things light.

You dug in, grateful for the distraction. The food was, as always, perfect—just the right amount of heat, your noodles cooked to perfection, with bits of tofu and crushed peanuts that somehow made you feel cared for in ways he never outright said.

A buzz from your phone interrupted the moment. You glanced down. Luke.

Luke: You free to meet up later this week? I was thinking we could grab coffee or something.

You answered with a quick, noncommittal reply and set the phone aside, but not before Bucky’s eyes flicked toward the screen. The name must’ve registered. His jaw ticked, subtle but there. He didn’t say anything right away, but you felt it—the way his energy shifted.

“Luke? You've told me about him before...” he asked eventually, his voice mild. Too mild.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Group project guy. We’ve been working together a lot lately.”

Bucky nodded slowly, twirling his fork in his noodles. “Right. He’s the one who texts you every morning like he’s clocking in?”

You blinked. “What?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Just noticed he keeps showing up on your phone. Seems… consistent.”

There was no heat in his voice—no raised tone or sarcasm. But there was weight. Careful. Deliberate. Measured.

You tilted your head. “You seem jealous,” you joke for a second, thinking that's what that was.

Bucky let out a breath through his nose, something between a sigh and a laugh, then leaned back on the couch, resting his arm along the top. “Not jealous. Just observant.”

You narrowed your eyes, not letting him off the hook that easily. “That’s not an answer.”

He looked at you then, fully—no grin, no playful smirk, just Bucky, guarded but honest. “I’ve seen how guys look at girls, okay? I know the difference between a group project text and a ‘hope she likes me’ one.” At that moment, you realized he really meant this and it was something that clearly, and very irrationally, bothered him.

You stared at him, heart stumbling in your chest. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to,” he said calmly. “He’s a guy. I’ve been that guy. And I know what it looks like when someone’s trying to edge into something that already feels full.”

You swallowed, not sure how to feel about what he just said. “And what does this feel full of, exactly?”

That question seemed to catch him off guard. His gaze dropped for a second, then he rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s something. Isn’t it?”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The silence between you stretched, taut as wire. Then he muttered, almost too low for you to catch.

“I just don’t like seeing him try to take—” He cut himself off.

You blinked. “Take what?”

Bucky’s lips parted, but he shook his head quickly, eyes flicking away. “Nothing. Forget it.”

You stared at him, heart tightening. “No. Say it.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said, quieter now. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The silence said enough. You stared at your plate, chewing slower now. The food was still good—of course it was—but something about the air between you had shifted. Bucky hadn’t looked at you since the text, but you could feel the weight of his silence pressing in.

“I don’t like how you’re talking about this,” you said quietly, setting your wine glass down. “You’re acting like you get a say in who I see.”

Bucky glanced up, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you implied it.” You leaned back, crossing your arms. “You’re making it sound like there's something wrong with someone texting me.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said, voice calm but tight. “I’m saying I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t even know him.” You shook your head, still not fully understanding what was happening. The words didn’t feel right, and the weight of his reaction hung in the air like an uncomfortable cloud. You could feel your heart beat a little faster, a mix of confusion and frustration welling up inside you.

Bucky was usually so easygoing, always the one to laugh and make light of things. But this—this tension, this defensiveness—was something completely different. It felt out of character, and you couldn’t make sense of it.

You swallowed hard, the silence stretching between you, and you wondered if you were overthinking it. Was this about more than just Luke? Was something else bothering him?

It hit you then—maybe it wasn’t just about Luke at all. Maybe it was about you.

For a second, a ridiculous thought crept into your mind—maybe your dad had warned him. Maybe, in some secret father-to-friend conversation, he'd told Bucky to keep an eye out, scare off any guy who got too close. It sounded absurd, but this wasn’t the Bucky you knew. It felt like he was trying to draw a line around you, to fence off a space he didn’t even have the right to claim.

“I don’t need to,” he replied, and now his voice carried more weight. “I know what it looks like when a guy’s circling someone he likes. I’ve been that guy. And if you don’t see it, fine. But don’t act like I’m crazy for pointing it out.”

You hesitated, letting the words settle. Then: “You’re not pointing it out. You’re warning me. That’s different.”

His jaw flexed, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, irritated. “I just don’t want you getting blindsided.”

“And what if I’m not?” you shot back. “What if I know what’s going on and I’m choosing to deal with it the way I want to?”

That made him go still.

You pressed on, voice softer now but more honest. “You say you’re not trying to control me, but you’ve got opinions about who I talk to, who I text, who I spend time with-" You stopped yourself, biting down on the words before they escaped.

Bucky’s eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He let you finish.

“I moved into your space,” you said. “Your apartment, your routines, your everything. And I like being here, I do. But right now it’s like I’m getting smaller to fit.”

That hit something in him. His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked down at his hands, then back up at you, more careful now.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said finally. “I just—when I see someone getting close to you, it’s hard to stay neutral.”

“But you’re not supposed to be neutral, or territorial,” you replied, eyes searching his. “You’re supposed to be my friend, right?”

A beat of silence passed. His answer didn’t come. And that silence said more than anything else.

You’re supposed to be my friend

Bucky stood too, but slower, more cautious. “I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

You sighed, now aware of how regretful Bucky looked, and you believed it. You didn't doubt for a second that he had already come to his senses, but still, the conversation nestled deep within you. You begin again, voice steady and quiet. “Maybe I let you for a while because I liked being in your world. But I need to be in mine, too, Buck. With my own choices.”

He nodded slowly, jaw tight, but his eyes softer. “You’re right.”

You stood in the silence, feeling the heaviness of the moment, but the anger had faded, leaving something more fragile in its place. You were no longer upset, but you weren’t sure what to make of everything. You couldn’t stay in the living room with him right now—too many conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

“I’m going to head to bed,” you said softly, the words barely above a whisper. Your voice felt small, almost apologetic, but you needed this space. Bucky didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching you carefully. “Okay,” he said, his voice quieter than before, though there was still an edge of concern in it.

You made your way toward the hallway, not looking back, needing to keep moving to escape the weight of the tension in the room. You didn’t slam the door when you entered your room, but you closed it quietly, the soft click of it echoing in the quiet of the apartment.

For a moment, you just stood there, the silence in your room enveloping you like a heavy blanket. You leaned against the door, closing your eyes and letting out a slow breath. Your heart was still racing, the aftermath of the conversation hitting you in waves. You didn’t feel mad anymore—just… tired. Tired of trying to make sense of things that didn’t feel like they made sense. You felt so conflicted about your feelings on Bucky. You didn't know if they actually did exist or if they were some conjuring of your imagination. You also didn't know what to do or whether to act upon them if they did truly exist.

You weren’t mad at him. If anything, the whole thing left you conflicted. Because the way he’d looked at you tonight, the way he’d spoken—it was raw, and messy, and real. And that meant something.

Sitting on your bed, you changed into more comfortable clothes and stared out the window for a while. The city lights outside twinkled like a million tiny stars. You could still hear Bucky moving around in the living room, but it didn’t feel like he was there with you anymore—not in the way he had been before.

The sound of Bucky moving around in the kitchen filtered through the walls, soft clinks of dishes being washed. You weren’t sure why it hit you so hard, but hearing him out there, alone, made you sad. You could’ve helped him, gone out and cleaned up together like you always did, but tonight, you didn't. You couldn’t shake off the distance, couldn’t pretend like things were normal when everything you felt right now was so confusing

The sound of water running in the kitchen stopped, followed by the quiet clink of a dish being set down. The last sound you heard was Bucky closing his own bedroom door—soft, almost like a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything left unsaid. The thud of the door closing made the space between you both feel even wider, and a knot tightened in your stomach. You knew he wasn’t angry, not like that. But the quiet felt like it was pulling you both into different corners of the apartment, away from each other. You sat there, listening to the silence after that. Even the space between you and Bucky seemed filled with things you couldn’t yet understand.

When you think about it, the situation is not that complicated. But there's something about it, the edge to his words, the tinge of jealousy that he tried to cover, the squint of his eyes every time he mentioned Luke's name… The argument never was about defending him. It wasn’t about whether Luke was a threat or whether he was trying to get too close—it wasn’t even really about the coffee or the texts or any of the small things that had set Bucky off. The fight had been about something deeper, something neither of you had the courage to fully voice.

It was about a fear that neither of you had fully understood or acknowledged. It was about Bucky’s fear of losing something—maybe losing you, or the closeness you shared—and in his own way, trying to hold on to you, to make sure he was still one of the most important people in your life. But in doing so, he crossed a line.

It felt strange to lie in the dark, the quiet of the apartment now overwhelming. You couldn’t hear him anymore, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that the two of you were in the same space, yet so far apart.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

[bighitfics]

with or without you | jjk

genre : childhood acquaintances to lovers (or not)

pairing : jungkook x female reader

summary : jeon jungkook was many things to you.

your maths home tutor throughout junior highschool, who also never took a single penny from you.

your school senior — the one you respected, looked up to, admired, and always rooted for like he was your own little secret hero. (he was)

your mom’s best friend’s son.

the guy who’d bring you strawberry milkshakes on those unbearable days because he knew they were the temporary cure to your sadness.

the person who accompanied you for your wisdom tooth removal, saw you in your most embarrassing state (god, you’re not forgetting this one! like, ever), and still praised and pampered you like you’d just saved a whole country from World War.

you always found yourself in these weirdly grandiose circumstances with him, the ones you’d randomly recall even if you had dementia at an old age.

and somewhere in the midst of those moments, before your friends and family even noticed — he somehow became the love of your life.

and god, you wished he hadn’t been your first heartbreak too.

content & themes warning : this story contains a controversial age gap, slow burn romance, intense yearning, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, mild misandrist perspectives, and is set in korea.

release date : mid july (amen)

wiwi’s note ⋆˚࿔

this was born at 3 a.m. during a spiral of overthinking and stuffing my face with leftover biryani. if i abandon this one too, someone PLEASE throw me into the nearest river. manifesting commitment. amen. reviews, cries, chaos — drop it all. love for u gorgeous ladies!

[lovelettersfrommai]

JOAQUÍN TORRES X AVENGER! READER HEADCANONS

A/N: Here are my headcanons based off of @davinashifts333 requests! I am currently rewatching TFATWS to write an actual imagine, but if y'all have ideas do leave a message in my inbox! I'm nice, I promise.

You were naturally born with mimicry powers. It pretty much gave you a leg up in all things growing up. 

The two specific ones being memory mimicry, and skill replication. You could watch someone do something once and instantly pick up how to do it. With the touch of a shoulder, or a brush of fingertips you can see their memories. 

It was pretty cool being able to do all these things…up until when you got older.

As a young person, you couldn’t control when or what memories you would see when you touched other people. Sometimes all of them would blow through your brain, and leave you with information overload. Just mentally and sometimes physically exhausted.

Enter: SHIELD.

Originally, you were contacted for your proven academic excellence at 18, having just graduated high school. Everyone at your school knew you were a wiz kid. 

Scouted by the government to work for various organizations until you finally decided to try being a SHIELD agent

Straight into training you went. Working right under Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Nick Fury knew it would be easy to gain intel if you were the person undercover. The attack on New York happened not too long after you joined

Took about two years until you were on the front lines working with Steve and Natasha closely. 

Then everything went to shit when SHIELD (Hydra) fell. That’s when you met Sam.

Ever loyal to Steve, you too were on the run with the both of them. When you took temporary refuge at Sam’s house, you kind of got to know him.

He immediately noted the intense set of your eyes despite your young face. The way you almost always look far away, like you’re in another place. He reached out to shake your hand and you literally dodged it. 

Sam is like the first person you open up to. It takes a while, but you feel comfortable with him (Probably because of his past as a councilor. He’s just got a reassuring and kind vibe.)

Very older brother and little sister type beat. That’s why when it came time to choose a side during Civil War, you followed Sam. 

Of course it led to you both being imprisoned in the raft for a little, but hey, Steve got you out!

When you came back after the blip, you made sure to stay in touch with Sam. You weren’t sure if the hero life was for you after…all that, so for about a year, you did your own thing, got an apartment in DC and lived your life, even starting an organization to help people who were displaced by the blip

Until Sam gave up the shield

You weren’t mad per say, but confused and weirdly hurt by him wanting to put the Shield in the Smithsonian

However, you were mad when they gave John Walker the shield, not even a week later. (I waited for three and a half years…white man did it in one week.)

This agitated you enough to put your suit back on.

This also led you to meet pretty boy for the first time LOL (you STAY winning)

You guys got along pretty quickly, Joaquín is just so golden retriever like that you naturally felt yourself folding for his every request

He was a big fan of your work, both on and off the field.

Only started dating after a year of being friends, because you were very hesitant initially. Not because you didn’t like Joaquín or vice versa, but because you were scared. I mean come on, you spend your years in highschool being top of your class, immediately going into being a SHIELD agent, got blipped for five years, not to mention you have a power that people generally don’t trust…no prospects. 

Unfortunately for you, Joaquín does not subscribe to that train of thought WHATSOEVER. He worships the ground you walk on, almost literally.

Y’all are such a power couple. 

Sometimes you’ll be flirting over the comms on a mission and Sam has to tell you to “Shut the hell up” before he barfs mid flight. 

For a while, you kind of fear giving him any sort of physical affection/touch, just because you’re afraid of unintentionally invading his privacy from your powers (You may be better at controlling them now rather than before, but this man makes all sense of control leave your mind)

Once again though, Joaquín does not give a fuck

He’s touchy. It’s in his nature. Obviously he doesn’t push you, and is very understanding of why you’re hesitant, but if you’re only holding back because you’re scared of hurting him, despite actually craving his affection? He’ll take matters into his own hands (Literally!) 

Sometimes you get really overstimulated. Sometimes you can’t quite tell what memories are your own, or all the skills that you replicate get overwhelming and give you bad headaches. 

Joaquín always helps you through them. He’ll get you medicine and massage your temples, scratch at your scalp gently until all the thoughts go away. 

Joaquín’s touch becomes one of the only ones that you don’t fear. 

He’s the best ever :(

[animeyanderelover]

hello! happy new years! thank you as always for the great work! here come my two requests, which are repeats of old ones ive made before

1. Darling is in love with the yanderes, yet when they confess, darling rejects them because of their bad reputation with romance in general (yanderes of your choice)

2. Darling asks yandere to fake date them, and by the time they become obsessed, the darling is already done with whatever they needed (yanderes of your choice)

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, manipulation, stalking

Tags: @flaming-vulpix @iloveeyanderes

Please pretend to date me!

Matsuoka Rin

🦈​You have no choice but to seek him out as you don't know who else you should approach in college with your recent problem. Rin and you attended the same highschool and you dare to think that the both of you are somewhat close. Initially Rin is against the idea, unsure if your plan to fake date him is the right way to solve your problem but ultimately he caves in when you start turning upset and desperate to the point of tears. Both of you set boundaries though as neither of you wants to make the other one too uncomfortable. You manage to successfully fool everyone with the act as Rin is quite convincing with his act and you are just as convincing. It's the first time both of you have spent so much time together and you're somewhat glad for this chance as you secretly always wanted to get to know Rin better but never could because he was so preoccupied with swimming during highschool. Rin feels similar to you. He never realised just how sweet and adorable you are until now and he has already decided that he would like to stay in contact with you even after this act is over. Weirdly enough the thought that this all is going to be over soon has been bothering him more and more recently...

🦈​Just when Rin has started to realise what has been happening to him lately you suddenly announce to him that you have gotten what you wanted and that the both of you don't need to act like a couple anymore. You may as well have just punched him in the gut without any warning, the news having him forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds before he slowly gains a semblance of control again and gives you a nervous smile. That's quite sudden, don't you think? Are you sure that the problem has been solved? Maybe the two of you should pretend for a while longer to be absolutely sure. He wants more time, needs more time, to come up with a plan on how to proceed with his new feelings that have recently bubbled to life yet you cut him off without giving him any chance to work this out. You brush all of his attempts to coax you into giving it more time off though and Rin has in that moment no other choice but to force a grin on his face and let you off the hook, the smile only dropping as soon as you are out of his sight. He knows that this was only a temporary thing from the beginning but you can't just expect him to act like nothing happened after you made him fall in love with you.

🦈​He's not going to kid himself, he knows that what he is feeling is not an ordinary love. It's something that could potentially turn into something really ugly and if possible he would like to avoid using dirtier methods. That's why he has a talk with you alone where he confesses his feelings for you yet once again you shoot him down and make it very clear that you have no interest in him. The wide grin revealing all of his pointed teeth gives you a bad feeling though he merely states that he understands before he leaves you alone there with a bed feeling in your stomach. He doesn't leave you alone from that day on, always next to you as soon as he sees you with a carefree grin on his face whilst a possessive arm is suddenly swung around your body, pressing you closer to him. You have little tolerance for this and soon reprimand him, demanding him to stop acting like the both of you are actually a thing and confusing people around you. Rin only gives you a deceivingly sweet grin before telling you bluntly no. The both of you are a thing. Or would you like him to reveal the truth to the people you had him pretending to be your boyfriend for to bring back the troubles you avoided because of him?

Komaeda Nagito

⚪​From all the students that you could have asked for help you somehow decide to settle for Nagito. He is rather strange and weird yet you have a keen eye and have noticed that he seems to not see himself in the same light as other Ultimates, as undeserving to be in this school and you plan to use that as an advantage as an Ultimate yourself. It is just as you expected and your acting skills only add to this all as you come to him as a damsel in distress and beg of his help, tears swimming in your eyes and your lips wobbly as you tell him that he is the only one who can help you. He agrees swiftly, answering in his own dramatic rambling that an Ultimate like you shouldn't have to despair like this and that he will happily be of asset to you so that you may find your hope again. Deep down Nagito latches on quickly to your idea, willing to be a stepping stone for you to shine even brighter as a bringer of hope. He wants to be useful, wants to help you and deep down a part of him hopes that his help may even lead you to give him appreciation and love, something he secretly craves for.

⚪​As weeks pass by and both of you pretend to be a couple you start getting to know him better and soon you start feeling guilty for the way you previously thought of him. You realise that a lot of his off behavior seems to be a coping mechanism due to his own luck that always beings tragedy with it, his cheerfullness not genuine and his own self-loathing going deeper than you expected it to be. It is this guilt that causes you to be nicer to him, your attempts genuine as you try to understand him better and help him with this cursed luck of his. You couldn't have done a worse thing in that moment. The attention and the care you feed him quickly festers an obsession within Nagito. The way you look at him, talk to him and even gently touch him at times to stop him from talking down on himself soon has him beyond addicted as he swears to be your stepping stone to help you shine as the brightest hope out there. Only you can be the hope he has been wishing for. Only you can be his hope he has been yearning for for so long.

⚪​It's his disturbing obsession that ultimately causes you to quickly cut ties with him as soon as your problem has been solved and initially you fear for the worst when you tell him this, a careful distance between the two of you. You do not expect that calm smile on his face, a blissful look in his eyes as he starts talking about how glad he is that he could be of use to you and that it's alright that you don't want to be with him anymore. He does not demand your love but the only thing he wishes for is for you to keep on using him for your own gain. He'll sacrifice his sleep, his reputation and his health for you as long as he can keep on being useful to you as he goes down on his knees, his hands clasped together as he looks at you with a disturbing amount of reverence that has you running away. Degrade and insult him all you want or even fear him if you want to, it won't stop him following you around and clinging to you like a leech. He's your obedient lap dog who will do even unspeakable crimes for you if he believes it to be in your own good. He will never reach your greatness nor does he think that he is deserving of your love but he shall cherish the little time he got as your boyfriend forever.

Han Solo

You have met enough people to know how to convince someone like Han Solo to agree to your conditions. With the right price, a few compliments to feed into his ego and a tad bit of seduction you have him agreeing to your condition to play along in your little game long enough until you have resolved your problems in which case both of you can go your separate ways then again. You harbor no interest to keep in contact with him after everything is over but you do take your time to get to know him a bit considering that the both of you will have to act like a couple for a certain amount of times. Han Solo does his job though as he flirts with you, hangs around with you and dares to even touch you at times though you quickly let him know that he shouldn't be too handsy with you unless he wants to risk a bruised eye. Sometimes you have a feeling though that the bastard riles you up on purpose simply for the fun of it and that actually proves to be true when he eventually admits that he thinks it's quite cute to see you struggling to hold on to your self-control.

Han Solo has never been the type to see himself settling down or taking a permanent partner. His only partners are Chewbacca and his beloved Millennium Falcon and whilst he does enjoy the company of beautiful people and flirts with them, ultimately for him it is all about the money. That's why it takes him by surprise when he realises that he has started developing actual feelings for you that go beyond his usual light-hearted flirting. He may not show it but Chewbacca definitely notices that something is wrong with his partner and the Wookiee has known his partner long enough to realise what it is that is troubling Han Solo so deeply as he catches him secretly looking at you with almost longing in his eyes though the conflict is just as apparent. Luckily you do not understand his language or otherwise Chewbacca would have blown his secret already as the Wookiee starts teasing Han Solo sometimes about his new crush only for Han to give him a glare before telling his friend to shut up.

When you pay Han for his service and let him know that you are done with what you needed to do he is almost offended with how easily you just drop him off. Sure, this was the plan from the very beginning but have you not learned to appreciate him even a tiny bit during the weeks the two of you were togeher? Apparently not and initially his pride gets in the way as he just marches away, muttering curses as he foolishly assumes that perhaps travelling through space with his Millennium Falcon and entertaining himself on other planets will help him to forget about you. It only takes him a few weeks to return to your planet though with the grim realisation that his attraction has gotten out of hand though he scoffs when you ask him if he has returned for you, playing his feelings down as he merely states that he is free to go wherever you want and that not everything is about you. Needless to say though, it's going to be a new step for him as Han has to learn how to handle his newfound feelings as well as his increasing jealousy when you hang out with other guys. Are you really settling for just any loser?

Fred Weasley & George Weasley

It is quite hard to catch the twins in a moment alone as they are basically together all the damn time. That's why you instantly jump on one of them as soon as you catch him alone, truly not caring who it is. From all the people you could think about the Weasley twins seems to be the best option as they love pranking others and what you are about to do is essentially also a prank which is why you think that those two would be up for it. It's George that you have in front of you and as you beg him and to help you you can only be releaved when he tells you that it sounds quite interesting and agrees to help you. You don't know what you expected but somehow you aren't surprised when the next morning him and Fred both approach you with Fred telling you that your plan sounds quite devious as you essentially plan to lie to your own family to save yourself some serious trouble. Count him in. Well, perhaps it's not too bad that both of them are there to assist you with your plan as one can simply pretend to be the other without anyone noticing who doesn't know them closely. They even fool you like this at times to mess with you a bit, your angry reaction always adorable.

Both of them share essentially one heart and brain so neither of them is really surprised when they find out that somewhere along the line both of them have become quite fond of you. They don't even have to say it out loud. Both of them merely share a long look before nodding, instantly agreeing to share you. It's perhaps time for the duo to become a trio at last. They do not tell you that yet though, the pranksters inside of them wanting to mess with you for a bit longer whilst also planning how to keep you by their side even after the situation for you is finally over. They turn their flirty behavior around you up a couple of notches though to perhaps tease their feelings a bit to you without confirming them which leaves you at the end of the day always second-guessing everything. Yet you still remain unsure if you're just imagining things or not until the very end where you have solved the crisis and thank both of them for their help. Both of them just give you a grin with a thumb up, telling you that it was nothing and that they gladly helped you. You kind of look at them for a few seconds, expecting something only to leave slightly confused.

Perhaps you really were just seeing things after all is what you tell yourself when you go that night to bed. The next few days are fairly calm with nothing exceptional happening until both twins suddenly pop up in your life as if nothing happened, both still heavily flirting with you and doing all their tricks. They have invented all sorts of magical trinkets solely for the purpose to fluster and flatter you whilst making it obvious to everyone else that things have not ended between the three of you at all. You have little balls exploding over your head before it rains rose pedals all over you, heart-shapped bubbles floating towards you that both of them blow your way and little paper birds flying towards you, containing cheeky notes and confessions. You're torn apart between annoyance and flattery but the both of you had a deal that is now over so you ask both of them to please stop what they're doing. Both of them only give the other a cheeky look before they simply "nope" your request. They'll keep on messing with you like this as well as anyone else who thinks that they have a shot with you now. You three are a trio now and you don't get to walk out of it now.

Monkey D. Luffy

🍖​The Strawhats are currently on your island to stock up on food and other stuff, taking a short break and to you there couldn't have been a more perfect time for pirates to appear. You have been lying to your parents for quite a while now to avoid an arranged marriage, told them that you were together with someone already who was just travelling around a lot. Luffy is simply the first one you happen to stumble upon and in your desperation you instantly kneel in front of him, begging him to help you so that your parents would finally stop in their attempts to marry you off to someone else you don't even love. You've always heard the scary tales of pirates before and normally you would be very hesitant to approach one as you have always only ever heard bad stories of them robbing, killing and hurting people yet you are surprised when this one tells you with a smile on his face to stand up and that he will help you gladly, his kind smile reassuring you as you wipe youe tears away and give him a tentative grin of your own.

🍖Never in your life would you have estimated the first pirate you ever meet in your life to be someone like Luffy. He's a grown child in almost every sense but as stubborn and gullible as he can be he is just as compassionate and kind which takes you by surprise. You were raised to believe that all pirates would be out for blood and chaos yet Luffy doesn't care about treasure and riches as his sole dream is to be the King of the Pirates and to find the One Piece. You can't help but support him in his dream and soon you find yourself spending time with his crew almost everyday, happily showing them around your island and what makes your home so special. You have fun with all of them but the most time you still find yourself spending with Luffy who seems to cling to you like a koala to a tree.​ Sometimes his clinginess tends to overwhelm you a bit, his hand excitedly clutching yours as soon as he sees something that sparks that childish curiosity within him. You tend to forgive it though as you know that he is only playing his role... Right?

🍖​It is far too late already when you tell him eventually that the both of you don't need to pretend anymore as your parents have reluctantly stopped now that they believe that you already have someone. Yet as soon as your words leave your lips Luffy merely tilts his head confused. Pretending? What are you talking about? Apparently Luffy has stopped seeing this as a mere act long ago. The both of you are together in his eyes, you are already part of his crew. You struggle to explain to him that he is simply imagining things yet you are caught off guard when he asks you if you haven't been happy with him and had fun with his crew. That's when you find your breath stuttering as he unbeknownst to him targets a sensitive spot in you. He's right though, you have had more fun with his crew than you had in your home yet it is the fear of the unknown and other pirates that leads you to reject his offer to join his crew. You'd be wrong though in your belief that Luffy would accept a no for an answer, especially since you are his lover. Don't you love him? You can only pray that your parents won't find out not only that everything was a bluff but also that you asked a pirate of all people for help.

[shintaru]

m.list ♡ taglist

Synopsis: Wooin gets a snake for his birthday.

You’ve been best friends with Wooin since highschool and you wanted to do something special for his birthday. This day is important so you want to make it significant. Ever since you got to know him he’s had a fascination for snakes. Even after his dramatic change after moving out, it's clear he likes them. After all, his phone and helmet are snake skin designed. The biggest change of all is the split tongue similar to a snake. You had the best birthday gift ever.

You were going to get him a snake. You had been secretly eyeing different snakes at local pet shops. None of them caught your eye. You wanted one that fit him. His birthday is today so you’re sort of in a hurry. You haven’t even told him happy birthday yet. You head into the last store on your list in the area that sells snakes. The worker shows you to their selection of snakes and once again nothing catches your eye and you grow frustrated. You want to give him his present today.

You start feeling discouraged not being able to find the right one. “Excuse me miss there is one more snake, I don’t know if you’ll like it everyone always returns this one” the worker says. “She’s perfect I’ll take her” you say excitedly dying to see what she looks like. “But you’ve yet to see her” the worker replies you can hear the confusion in his tone. “ We were about to put her down if she wasn’t taken today, she’s lucky you came in” he says pulling the hog nose snake out of her enclosure.

“Woah” you say looking at her she was all white with unique black spots and her nose was short and upturned. He hands her over to you allowing you to hold her and see if you’re sure about your decision. “She’s so tiny” you say, noticing how she fits into your hands. “Do you mind me asking why you chose her out of all the others? We have a much better selection” he adds.

“I think she’ll be a great fit for my friend today is his birthday, he wasn’t too happy when we brought in a puppy but he loves snakes so I think he will like her” you say smiling while thinking of how he will react. “Sounds like he has a great friend” the worker says nicely. “Here I’ll show you everything you need for her.” He says gently placing her back in her enclosure. You head around the store with the worker placing items recommended into your cart.

You purchased a decent sized tank, food, a thermometer, decorations, bowls, heating pad, spray bottle, humidity tester, a house for her to hide in. Once you’re reassured you have everything you need the worker heads back and gets the snake you picked and places her in a temporary carrier. “Is that all?” He asks before telling you your total. “Yes that will be all, thank you!” You reply. “Alright, your total comes to $850. Will you be paying with cash or card?” He asks. “Cash” you reply, handing him the money.

You had worked double shifts for weeks just to save up enough. You still have plenty left over to purchase him a birthday card where you could leave a cute little note. Once you leave the store you check on the little snake making sure she’s ok. After that you head to Wooin’s you stole his spare keys to his apartment the last time you were near so you could sneak his gift in. You unlock the door and you’re immediately met with a huge mess.

“He’s so messy” you think to yourself. You clean up a bit just so you can have somewhere to put the snake. You set up her tank and place all the necessary items in it and you put her food in the freezer. You also make a list of everything she needs and where to purchase live food and you stick it in the birthday card you bought him on the way home. You leave your signature with a cute heart saying “Happy birthday!”

Once everything is set you decide to text Wooin “Hey, I came over and your door was wide open I think someone you pissed off broke in and robbed you.” A little lie won’t hurt you, think to yourself laughing as you hit send. You had to lie because if he knew you had a birthday gift he’d avoid you. He doesn't like to celebrate his birthday unless going to the bar and tormenting people counts.

He rushes into the room breathing heavily and drenched in sweat like he just raced a cheetah in a marathon and lost. He looks around the room seeing nothing looks out of place besides the fact he can tell you cleaned. “Hey you lunatic why did you lie to me?” He asks sounding angry. You giggle and run behind him and cover his eyes with your hands. “I have a surprise for you” you say smiling. “I’m not sure what you have but things are getting interesting hehe.” He says.

You walk behind him guiding him to where you put the snake and you make him promise to keep his eyes closed when you remove your hands from his face. “I swear I swear I’ll keep them closed” he says. You poke him in the side not believing him. “Wooin I'm serious you’ll ruin the surprise if you don’t keep them closed” you say “ Ah, I promise I’ll keep them closed” once you’re sure he’ll keep them closed you open her enclosure and pick her up.

“Hold your hand out” you say. “Sure~” he says while he opens his palm and holds it out. You walk over to him and place her in his hand he immediately opens his eyes in shock. “Do you like her?” You ask, anticipating his response. “How cute but I like who gifted her to me more” He says casually while looking at her. “I’m glad you like her, they were going to put her down because she kept being returned” you tell him not really knowing how to respond to his confession. You watch his expression change to a look of indifference. “She won’t be returned anymore” he says while gently petting her.

You smile realizing he likes her but he doesn’t want to admit it. “What will you name her?” You ask him. “Sabat, she can be our crew’s mascot” he replies. “That names perfect for her, and she’ll fit right in with the crew.” You say while also letting him know where her food is and that the list of her care requirements are in his birthday card. He places Sabat back in her enclosure and gives you a hug where he gets too touchy making you push him off playfully. He only laughs in response and he thanks you for the gift and says he’ll top it when your birthday comes around.

Tagging: @dzvelinaskebiyars @bfwooin @hyukwwn @sylith @wthphe1n

[tenjikufag]

omg such good haikyuu teams i totally agree!! coould i request a bokuto x m!reader with a little angst to comfort bcuz i love hurt/comfort a little too much 🤭

Homecoming.

Bokuto x Male Reader

-hurt/comfort, temporary split, long distance, pro!Bokuto

-this was requested quite some time ago! So sorry for the wait.

Dating an athlete is not an easy thing to begin with, when it’s a professional, worldwide known athlete.. it only further complicates things.

Being with an athlete you never really know where you are on the priority list with them, this sport is quite literally their life and their job but when does a life partner come into play?

Highschool was a far easier time to date Bokuto, you’d see him in class, during lunch, after school, the weekends- basically anytime you wanted he was there! You even travelled to the different schools and districts with parents, siblings, and other players’ partners for the games.

But, once you graduated it got quite a bit harder.

You were settling into your own education and career, as was he. He was set to become a professional volleyball player like he had always dreamed about and what you had always hoped for him..

That meant long periods away from each other while you both did your own things.

It was steady and you both came out the other side successful and happy,

It wasn’t until he started with MSBY black jackals that there were true signs of trouble. It was getting harder to see eachother, even harder to just get a call or text back from one another because of timezones and offset schedules.

It broke your heart, his too.

There was a promise between you two to stick it out and that you’d always be there for eachother but you just.. weren’t sure of it these days.

It’s been two weeks since you last were able to call Bokuto, 6 months since you last saw him. And texts were far and few.

“What am I supposed to do? We can’t even talk about it because we can’t get in touch, it’s not like I can just catch a plane to see him either..”

You sat across from your childhood friend, Akaashi. He was an editor and basically worked from home so you could call him up whenever.. he was there to listen to all your relationship worries and other worries outside of it.

“You’re both my friend, there’s really nothing I can do or say to help you choose what to do, you know that. He hasn’t been in contact with me for even longer, I’m really no help..”

He mumbled, taking a sip of his drink with a frown. You knew he was right, there really was nothing you could do.. not until you could call him atleast.

—

Bokuto picked up his phone, frowning to see no notifications from you.. quickly he texted you and asked if you could call him later because he would have a gap between training sets.

He was beaming with excitement to finally be able to call you, and he had a surprise too! Quickly he showered and changed into casual clothes before heading out of the gym and off to his apartment..

As soon as he got into his apartment his phone went off, a text from you. With a smile he opened it

‘We need to talk, please make sure you actually have the time to talk this time.”

Tilting his head, he knew he had atleast 3 hours to talk to you and do whatever he needed to get done.. he dialed you, listening to the ringing with a smile

—

You paced the room, flinching when your phone started to vibrate and Bokutos contact came up. Sighing, you answered

“Hey babe! How are you? I miss you!”

“Yeah.. I said we need to talk and I’m gonna cut to the point..”

The visual of his face dropping flashed in your head, the disappointment of no loving greeting in the face of his you imagined.

“Oh! What did you wanna talk about?”

“I think we should split up. Take a break.. or end things entirely..”

The audio seemed like it dropped, complete silence on your boyfriends end..

“Huh?”

“I said we should break up.”

“..why? Did I do something? What’s wrong, what are you talking about?!”

Bokuto panicked on the other side, you bit your lip and tried to find the words

“Please don’t do this, you still love me.. right?”

A sob throbbed in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut the tears started to fall with every single one of his questions

“I do.. I love you so much. I just can’t do this anymore, it’s too hard Bo… I’m sorry, I miss you too much and I can’t keep up with the schedules! I feel like I’m not doing enough for you, and I feel like you’re slipping away from me!”

You whimpered into the phone, Bokutos breathe was heavy in the speaker- evident he was ready to cry too.

“We can make it through this! I promise, once everything settles down-“

“And when would that be?! What if it never settles down? It’s not fair to either of us to keep doing this!”

He cried, your heart shattered hearing him cry.

“I can’t do this without you, I don’t wanna do this without you.. I promise-“

“Just stop.. it’s already hard not doing this in person.. I’m sorry Bokuto. I love you, I miss you.. but I can’t do this anymore.”

“..I love you too! Please, just wait-“

You hung up, not wanting to hear what else he needed to say- you knew it would only make this worse, worse than what it was.

There was never a life you’d envisioned without him in it, you both had the whole future planned out.

It was just too hard, and you accepted the defeat.

But Bokuto wouldn’t.

—

“Woah, what happened to you?”

Atsumu raised a brow at his teammate, Bokuto was known for being a lively and energetic person but right now he looked like a wet bird.. drooping and moping around the gym; his body barely moving through the stretches.

His teammates were even more shocked to see the male ignore them and move to the other side of the gym to continue his stretches.

“Maybe he’s just sad about going home..”

Atsumu shrugged his shoulders. Not giving it much more thought but kept an eye on his teammate..

When practice was over, Bokuto continued to sulk and it got even worse through the scolding he got for appearing lazy in his practice.

“Don’t take it too hard, last practice and you gotta keep yourself from getting hurt before you get back to Y/n, hm~”

Bokuto felt an elbow nudge him in the side, he only glanced over to the yellow blonde.. lip quivering at the mention of you.

“He.. he broke up with me.”

Barely above a whisper, Atsumu went pale- he felt like an ass! Cringing to himself he pulled away and apologized.

“Are.. are uh, you still goin’ home then? You can uh.. come visit my brother with me if you want?”

He didn’t know what to say, it was an extended break for the players so he really wasn’t going to have anyone here to keep him company.. Atsumu also didn’t wanna leave his friend alone so visiting his own family was the only thing that came to mind.

“I’m still going home.. I wanna see him at least one more time, maybe he will change his mind!”

Bokuto perked up, no longer looking as soggy and limp. Atsumu forced a smile and mumbled a ‘yeah, sure!’ And watched the owl-ish man stride out of the gym once again..

He wasn’t going to let you go that easily, with a new determined mind he packed his things and caught the plane home, to you.

—

You sat in your living room, a depressed mess of packaged foods and drinks scattered around where you sat yourself down.. it’d only been maybe a day or two but the radio silence from Bokuto was deafening- not hearing his ringtone or a text notification made you sick- you were always on edge trying to hear if any notifications came. You’d gone longer without a notification but the fact that you probably weren’t going to get one again was hard.

“Why did I do this..”

Wrapping your blanket around yourself, you let yourself fall over onto your side. Tears pricking your eyes once again.

The heartbreak made you ill, your stomach ached and knotted up whenever you tried to move, eat, or even think of doing something. Your head pounded and the anxiety washed the colour out of your skin.. the full body fatigue on top of it all made you feel miserable.

This was harder than anything you had ever had to do.. it took everything in you not to call him or text him.

Sighing, you tried to fall asleep.. as tired as you were the sleep didn’t come easy.

You would try to be a normal person tomorrow, maybe this heartbreak would be easier then.

—

The familiar scents brushed in his nostrils and filled his lungs, with a bright smile he exited the plane and made his way through the airport. Unknowingly, Bokuto has started to look for you; only to upset himself when he remembered you wouldn’t be here. He sighed sadly, hailing a cab that waited on the outskirts of the exit.

You were so close, he needed to prove to you why this would all be worth it and wanted to show you how much he loved you and needs you.

The cab ride was long, almost falling asleep only to be jerked out of it from bumps in the road.

Looking out the window, he saw your town, where you’d be! Excitedly he pointed to your complex to the driver, ready to fish out money from his bag to run into the house as fast as he could.

“You’re from the Jackals right?”

“Mhm!”

“Rides on me, I’ve been rooting for the jackals since I was a teen.”

Bokuto beamed, thanking him profusely and hopping out of the car and dragging his bags behind him.

His heart was beating faster than it ever had, even when doing the miles and miles of running this is the most his chest had hurt.

The man calmed himself down, taking deep breathes to soothe his aching heart. Putting down his bags, he fished around in his pants for the key and unlocked the door quietly; sneaking in and putting his bags behind the door. He looked around, and saw the mess and a lump of blankets and pillows.

Quietly, he stepped towards the lump of blankets and saw tufts of your hair peaking out… his heart swelled and he went to kneel in-front of you, watching your sleeping face.

Lightly tapping your forehead with his finger, he checked to see how deeply you were sleeping.. you didn’t react so he figured he’d be able to pick you up and bring you to the bedroom. He slid his arms under your body and softly lifted you, being mindful of the mess in the room to not make any noise.. he would clean it before he woke you up.

He laid you down on the mattress and tucked you in, making sure you had enough blankets and pillows.. he took off his jacket and placed it on the bed before scurrying out and cleaning the living room- he wasn’t a great cook but he could atleast make sure your snacks were out and organized!

-

You woke with a start, the sunlight from opened curtains dared to blind you for a second.. you were in your room. With a groan you tossed over, hearing something fall off the bed. Sitting up, you looked to the ground to see what had fallen and it was a jacket.

Bokutos jacket.

Furrowing your brows, you tossed your blankets off your body and picked it up.. he hadn’t left this jacket here and you were sure of it, atleast you thought so.. frowning you couldn’t help yourself from hugging it- it smelt strongly of his cologne, did you fish this out last night? Come to think of it you don’t remember making it to your room..

Holding onto the jacket, you walked into the living room and saw your mess was gone.. you also don’t remember cleaning it. That was when you heard someone else walking around in the apartment.

You froze, not wanting to move.. did someone break in?! It’s an apartment complex how the hell-

Arms wrapped around you tightly, a familiar scent and body melted into you.

“You’re awake.”

Tears choked you, are you this delirious and heartbroken to imagine Bokuto?!

Whipping around, you met his face. He was worried, looking almost as if a child that had gotten in trouble..

“How.. how did you get here?!”

He nervously fumbled with the hem of his shirt, avoiding your gaze and mumbling.

“I told you to wait.. but you hung up the phone..”

Huh?

“..was going to surprise you to tell you I was gonna come home.. we got a break and.. then..”

He started to cry, you took him into your arms and let him cry. Bokuto still tried to babble out an explanation, clutching onto the front of your shirt and leaving tear stains on your shoulder.

You began to cry too, hearing him on the phone was heart breaking enough but to hold him and hear it in person shattered you.

Bokuto pulled away, wiping his tears with his arm.

“Do you still want to break up with me? I.. I can get my things and leave…. If that’s what you want..”

He hiccuped, distancing himself from you and getting ready to pack his things up again.

“Don’t go.. let’s talk.”

You hugged him tightly, he returned it with even more force and led you to the couch.

The two of you talked for hours, not even just about the split but about everything.

It was like he never left

It was like nothing had ever happened.

As the day grew into night, you found him cuddling you and sitting on your lap.

You kissed him, the two of you kissed for what felt like minutes but what hours.

When he pulled away with slightly bruised lips, his hair and face dropped- a frown glossing his lips

“Is this a goodbye? Is this it?”

Rubbing circles on his hips, you pecked his lips again.

“No, of course not. I would’ve been gone and taken my own things if I didn’t want to see you again..”

He perked up, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth

“We.. we are back together?”

“Yeah..”

He began to shake, catching your lips with his and pressing into you.

“I’m taking you with me, everywhere now. I can provide fully, take your education and job on the road with me! I can’t leave you again!”

“We’ll talk about it.. let’s just enjoy your time here..”

Bokuto smiled brightly, leaving kisses all over your face and thanking you.

“We’ll make it, I promise!”

“I know.”

[abyssal808]

S1 Soulmate Au prompt inspired by @subbaculture 's prompt wherein "Eddie learns Tengwar just to be special and so Steve's been kicking around with "What's Kickin', Sexy?" on his body

What Tommy Hagan hadn’t been blessed with in terms of intelligence. God - in his allegedly infinite wisdom - had seen fit to redistribute into shoulder width.

Tommy, in turn, swanned around Hawkin’s High shoulder-checking every freak, geek and nerd into nearby lockers; with the kind of wingspan better suited to weirdly proportioned monkeys.

Hellfire members were no stranger to it. Two weeks ago Hagan had run into Gareth hard enough to leave a bruise. A “bump” with enough force behind it that he’d bounced off the lockers and landed on the floor.

Which, fine, two could play at that game. Even if Hagan could barely get his hand off Carol’s tits to realize there were counter-moves to be made at all.

A grade A dick move, even if it was also incredibly boring and pedestrian. The kind of thing jocks who barely had two braincells to rub together saw as peak comedy. Giggling like a cross between a group of cavemen and a flock of pre-school girls whenever their ring-leader du jour started herding freaks like a neurotic border collie.

“Watch it, freak.” Hagan hissed, skirting around Eddie without bothering to shove him at all. Giving a wide berth to whatever zone of contagious freak cooties being Eddie Munson brought to the table.

Behind him, Gareth - blocked from the rest of the hall by Eddie’s leather jacket, in a way only freshies were short enough to pull off - buried a laugh in a cough, muffled into the heel of his hand. Not missing the way that even Hagan - the most infamous asshole of them all - looked ready to bolt as soon as Eddie waved him off in a jaunty salute.

Victory tasted sweet and electric. Fizzing under his skin the way Wayne’s Miller Lites would bubble in the back of his throat, whenever Eddie stole a sip from the half open cans in the back of their fridge. It made him stupid in a way those brief tastes of beer hadn’t managed to yet.

Being The Freak came with perks. An untouchable radius that left Eddie drunk with power. Riding the high of knowing that maybe Highschool didn’t have to suck all the time. That he could play at being a rabid guard dog for the lost little sheep of the world, rail against dickheads like Hagan and win.

Maybe he could use it to plead temporary insanity for what he did next. Riding the high into a really, spectacularly stupid idea.

Everyone had their words.

Eddie’s were tucked away, hidden along the curve of his rib. A curly chicken scratch that mixed print and cursive into a barely legible mess.

‘Is that like, yiddish?’

A weird-ass question, until Eddie had pulled an all nighter on a now infamous school night, falling in love with Middle earth. Head filled with nothing but the dark halls of Khazad-dûm, the sweeping boughs of Lothlórien.

Speak friend and enter.

Pedo mellon a minno.

He’d traced the words over and over. Thrilled by the lilt, the cadence, the beautiful rise and fall of consonants no one else would understand.

Setting his heart there and then on the dorkiest greeting anyone could have come up with. But hey, it was original, which was half the battle people went through when picking soulmate greetings.

He’d gone through several variations. Always in Sindarin, because why the hell not.

People usually saved them, tucked them far away from casual conversation. Bizarre phrases, always non-sequitour, brought out only for special occasions. That lightning strike of instant attraction. People you could see yourself connecting with. Hoping they would be a part of you as much as you were theirs.

He couldn’t see himself connecting with Tommy Hagan in a million years. Not even if they waited in that hallway until the heat death of the universe.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t terrorize him with the possibility.

“What’s Kickin’ Sexy?”

He yelled after Hagan’s retreating back, with its fuck-off wide shoulders; elvish mangled, but passable. Enjoying the rictus of horror on his face, going from anger to fear and back again.

He shifted on his heel, pushing Gareth further behind him in case things got ugly. Herding him back towards Jeff with little bumps, as both of them tried to muscle down their cackling. Nerdy enough to piece together the gist of what Eddie had been hollering about. Even if Jeff was better at Quenya, because he was a weirdo and a purist about that kind of shit.

All in all, a job well done, assuming Hagan didn’t flip his shit and start throwing punches to assert dominance.

Or at least, it felt like it, until Harrington - trailing behind Hagan - sucked all the air out of the room. Hands on his hips, a furrow on his brow, blurting it out without even thinking about it.

“Is that like, Yiddish?”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Panic clamped around Eddie’s throat like a vice. The same way Gareth’s hand, tiny and tense - he had yet to hit his growth spurt - wrapped around the edge of Eddie’s leather jacket. Pushing past the waistband of his jeans to claw at skin.

The side that mattered, one they both knew had those words that wrapped around Eddie’s chest. Curving towards the sternum.

Whatever face he was making gave it away instantly.

Harrington’s face shuttered and fell. A whole host of micro expressions that passed through in a second before he scrubbed them away. A pair of shaking hands that rubbed at his eyes and dragged down his face. Peeking at Eddie through a gap in his fingers.

“Jesus Christ it’s you; isn’t it?”

Behind Eddie, Gareth tugged him half a step back, nails digging into his hip. Little half-moon crescents he barely felt now, but would find later.

“Steve?” The waver in Hagan’s voice would have been funny if it wasn’t nauseating.

Terrifying, when Steve waved him off and stepped towards Eddie. Jerky and halting, like a puppet with half it’s strings cut.

“I can’t fucking believe this Munson. You gotta tell me if it is.” Steve bit out, with a wobble that sounded too trembling and confused to be anger. Even if it would come later.

It was probably coming later.

Anger always got there in the end, with boys like Harrington. Sharp comebacks and sharper right hook always winning out, spurred on by that bone-deep, animal fear of losing your place in the social food chain.

King Steve didn’t seem worried it yet though. Adding to the bizarre hilarity of the situation as he undid his belt and untucked his shirt to the concerned shouts of everyone left in the hall, witnesses to this trainwreck.

If Eddie hadn’t been convinced he’d died and gone to purgatory a minute earlier. He would have been convinced there and then.

As Steve Harrington turned around, bunched his striped polo up high and his khaki’s down low. Stripping down to show the athletic curve of a hip. The dip of a waist that looked small next to his swimmer’s shoulders - almost wide enough to rival Hagan’s - a scattering of moles that dusted across his lower back, framing his mark.

There, on King Steve’s back, bracketed by dimples, low enough to count as a truly slutty tramp stamp sat Eddie’s words. The swooping curves of Tengwar branded into his skin.

“What’s kickin’, Sexy?”

[loveriotss]

[ 🥐 ] LOVE ALLIANCE : ALLIANCE D'AMOUR ⸻ MEET : y/n l/n's crew | k.bakugo x gn! reader smau series

phantom hero : mirage - y/n l/n → quirk : phantom touch - allows the user to create temporary constructs that can interact with the physical environment. these constructs are only visible to the user and can be anything from simple shapes (walls/shields/etc) to more complex forms (weapons/creatures/etc). [ a/n: i havent decided if y/n's quirk will be relevant enough but if it is i'll make sure to give more info about it! i wanted to give a quirk just incase ykwim. ] → a well loved and popular hero. praised for their skills and charming personality. → gets moped into dating scandals for even the slightest interactions with other pro heroes 😭. → had a crush on bakugo in highschool

zero gravity hero : uravity - ochaco uraraka → founder of gravity guidance : a quirk counseling enterprise that helps young children/students with their quirks. → might have returning feels for a certain ua teacher. → has occasionally hosted game and talk shows!

rain season hero : froppy - tsuyu asui → girly is does NOT gaf about rumors or scandals about her. → will proudly say or tweet whatever is on her mind (her pr team has given up i fear). → she has many amphibians and exotic bugs as pets.

ua teacher : deku - izuku midoriya → his embers last forever. although he is significantly weaker than before, he works to regain his strength. → yes his classmates are still actively funding for a hero suit. → currently he teaches at ua academy.

speed hero : ingenium - tenya iida → he is also an author. → he enjoys writing in his free time, it helps him feel calm. → mother of the group, always looking out for his friends and assuring that their needs are met.

hot and cold hero : shoto - shoto todoroki → does modeling on the side. → not hard to spot his face on a big billboard. → donates a lot of his income to quirk therapy and villain rehabilitation centers.

ᯓ★» LOVE ALLIANCE !

masterlist | next >

ᯓ★» ALLIANCE SECRETS !

୨ৎ : shoto got his brother touya into modelling too! although it took a bit of convincing, he eventually agreed. it's not his main career at the moment, but he's enjoying it as he tries to figure out what he wants to do in life. ୨ৎ : tsu has doxxed MANY people (haters). beware before you post smack about her or her friends because trust you'll find your ip address in your comments. ୨ৎ : iida also likes painting! he mostly paints geometrical shapes with muted colors when he's going through writers block. ୨ৎ : ochaco is a big fashion girlie! when she's not feeling tired or lazy, trust she'll glam out! (pro hero money PAYS) ୨ৎ : izuku has many fan boys and girls of his own (just like how he fanboyed over all might in his student days). he is grateful for their admiration!

ᯓ★» AUTHOR'S NOTE !

my au my rules i don't want anyone of you commenting on izuku's quirk situation. "ermm that's not accurate to the lore 🤓☝️" SHUSHH. do you guys like the little random things i gave them to do on their side!!!! also also pretend they do have those official tick marks bc i added those later but felt lazy and didn't update the screenshots.

ᯓ★» TAGLIST !

( comment on masterlist to be added + pls check ur settings if you're unable to be tagged ) @chsvok @ch3rryjampi3 @emmab3mma @pikachuzhc @cholios @zaiban2989 @hearts4heidi @ikissfade @themultifandomgirl @god-hangry-otter @solecitoszn @sunlix143 @rikislove @fackeraccount @chaoslibra @4rmins @harryzcherry @luvvvamy

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. don’t try to copy/steal my work. do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[dudeimjustagirll]

Upstairs Neighbor Activities

A/N:

guys i'm not a wally lover myself but he's goated

there's like zero fics of him tho so yw

You’d never really paid attention to Wally West in particular, but something—some Earth-shattering sense of embarrassment and fear— told you that he was your upstairs neighbour.

It had all started on one cold, dreary night. You’d just returned from what might’ve been the most incessantly boring university lecture of your life. The kind of class where time slowed to a crawl, and the air itself seemed to thicken with every slide the professor droned through. He hadn’t even tried to pretend he cared about the subject — just read off the screen like a hostage, voice so monotone it could’ve been used to sedate wild animals. All you wanted was to crash on your mattress, slip into a temporary coma and watch some trashy Reality TV when you woke up.

You’d unlocked your front door with all the enthusiasm of a ghost, kicked off your shoes, and made it exactly three steps inside when you heard it.

A light buzzing sound, like someone had just set up a camp for bees in their home, and handed them redbull and tiny jackhammers. Either that, or they had started exploiting a very loud electric toothbrush. 

You simply wouldn’t have it. You’d never been one for confrontation. Passive-aggression, sure — that was your love language. But nobody had ever been able to get between you and your sleep. Not your busted alarm clock, and certainly not your teachers from back in highschool, who’d slam their grubby hands on the top of your desk to wake you up. This was inexcusable. Outrageous. Unforgivable. So, you gathered up every bit of willpower you had left in you, flung open your door, and trudged up the stairs to give your neighbor the lecture of their life.

Just before you banged on the door, though, the buzzing stopped. You heard the unmistakable popping of a cap being unscrewed, and the sound of liquid being poured from one container into another. And when you heard the voice on the other end of the door, you stopped dead in your tracks.

“Ugh, finally. That took forever!” The disembodied voice exclaimed. 

You froze. Blinked. 

That voice. That smug, exasperated, deeply familiar voice.

And all at once, every neuron in your sleep-deprived brain lit up in a single, horrifying realization:

Wally. Freaking. West.

“As if!” you thought to yourself, shaking your head. 

There was no way in hell. There were thousands of people all around the world who sounded similar. Likely, this was just one such case. 

You turned on your heel and walked away. But, as you went back downstairs, a horribly awkward thought plagued your mind.

“Could it really be him?”

You weren’t strangers. Not exactly, anyway. 

You’d gone to the same highschool as him for all four years. And for all four years, you sat behind him in math class. Listen to him tap his foot against the floor like he had somewhere else to be, in a way that was far too fast for a normal human. Also how he never joined any after school activities because he always disappeared the second the bell rang. 

You’d never really cared about the rumors— “Wally’s a speedster,” “Wally’s dating that girl from Gotham”—because honestly? You had bigger things to worry about. Like graduating. Like getting out of that town. Like the fact that Speedy was way hotter than Kid Flash, objectively speaking.

You’d clocked the signs, but never really cared. Kid Flash could’ve been your lab partner and you probably wouldn’t have blinked. High school was stressful enough without adding "possible Justice League affiliate" to the equation.

The confirmation to your not-suspicion came much before you graduated highschool, anyway.

You were half-asleep on your couch one night in Central City, trying to finish an assignment you’d been procrastinating for two weeks. The news was on in the background, some footage of a bank robbery cleanup or alien invasion—who could keep up anymore?

And there he was.

Kid Flash. Standing next to The Flash himself, arms crossed, mask on.

And tapping his foot.

Just like he used to do in class when he got bored. Same rhythm. Same annoying, twitchy tempo that had driven you up the wall throughout your previous highschool years.

Then he opened his mouth.

And you just... stared. Same voice. Same cadence. Same dumb jokes.

Honestly, what kind of hero doesn’t use a voice modulator? Fighting intergalactic warlords and wearing skin-tight spandex but can’t invest in a little vocal disguise? Amateur hour.

You paused, narrowed your eyes at the screen, and muttered to no one in particular:

“Oh my god. Wally West is Kid Flash. That dumbass.”

And then you went right back to finishing your homework.

In the present day, though? You’d gone back to your apartment, changed into your most embarrassing pair of pyjamas — the ones with the faded cartoon ducks on them — and buried yourself like a worm beneath a fortress of blankets..

And then you heard it.

A wall of blaring rock music crashed through your ceiling like a sonic battering ram. Drums, wailing guitars, some guy screaming about heartbreak and motor oil. Your blankets vibrated. Your soul vibrated. And the scowl that appeared on your face was telling of how you felt about the situation.

You stared up at the ceiling in stunned silence for a moment, eyes wide, as if it might explain why this was happening to you.

Instead, you got more bass.

You dragged yourself out of bed, grabbed the broom from the kitchen like it was a divine weapon, and climbed onto the wobbly chair you swore you’d stop using for stupid things like this.

Whack.

You smacked the wooden end of the broom against your ceiling like it owed you rent.

Whack. Whack.

There was a pause. A beat of hope. Like your illusive neighbor had finally calmed down.

And then, in the most passive-aggressive act known to mankind, you heard a very familiar foot stomp twice against the floor above you. Just the way that it had in front of you, all those years ago.

There was no denying it. It was him.

You blinked.

“That absolute menace,” you muttered, hopping off the chair with murder in your heart.

You marched straight to your phone, opened your smart home app, and renamed your Wi-Fi connection from the bland default it came with to something a little more accurate.

Apt203ULoudasFuck

Justice was served.

Sort of.

Nevertheless, your sleep schedule was messed up. No way in hell you’d get any sleep like this. You lay in bed, your ears ringing from the aftershock of whatever had just occurred above you. The bass still echoed faintly in your bones, like your skeleton was hosting its own private afterparty.

You sighed, opened your phone again, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Ten minutes passed. Maybe twelve.

Then, just for fun, you pulled up the list of available Wi-Fi networks again. Maybe you were hoping to see your triumphant renaming live in action. Maybe you were bored. Maybe you were hoping to steal someone’s better connection.

But there it was, bold and fresh and passive-aggressive:

apt???sayittomyface#203

Your mouth dropped open slightly.

“Excuse me?” you whispered at the screen, like it had personally insulted you.

You sat up, squinting at the name. The audacity. The sheer nerve. Wally West had declared war—and via Wi-Fi, no less.

You didn’t even hesitate. With a level of determination usually reserved for finals week, you tapped into your settings and renamed yours again.

Apt203BiteMe

Two minutes later:

apt???comeupstairsandfightme

The next morning, you weren’t expecting to see him. Honestly, the plan was to drop your garbage off, maybe pick up your mail, and then crawl back into your apartment and get started on some homework. But the second you stepped into the stairwell, there he was—Wally West, hoodie slung halfway off his shoulder, garbage bag in one hand, phone in the other.

You both froze.

He looked exactly the same, and not at all the same. Same dumb perfect hair, same crinkle in the corner of his eyes, but taller maybe? Or just more irritating now that you knew he was behind the Wi-Fi name war.

Still. You hadn’t seen him since graduation. And for a second, you paused.

“…Oh my god,” you said, blinking. “It is you.”

He smiled, a little surprised, a little smug. “No way. You live here?”

You nodded, caught somewhere between aw and ugh. “Apparently so.”

There was a beat.

And then—you both laughed. The kind of laugh that carried shared memories and just enough history to make this surreal. 

“It’s great to see you. Been way too long,” he said.

You hugged, because of course you did. Old highschool acquaintances who once shared notes and mutual existential dread during finals hugged. It felt easy, stupidly warm. Familiar.

But the moment your arms dropped, the petty recharged.

You gave him a bright, too-sweet smile. “People living here are just really strange sometimes, I swear.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure the old lady who lives above me is secretly a witch,” and then his eyes darted. Left. Right. “Don’t tell her I said that though.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. That reminds me, actually. my upstairs neighbor was playing music really loud last night.”

His mouth twitched. “Yeah? Maybe they were just... having a good time.”

“Oh, I’m sure they were. I mean, it was kind of cute, in a ‘please shut up before I call building management’ kind of way.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Could’ve been a party. Or maybe they were just working through something. Some people cope loudly.”

You tilted your head right back, mock-thoughtful. “Hmm. Yeah, maybe it was... identity-related. You know, like some kind of crisis.”

That got a flicker. A twitch in his brow. Like the gears were turning in his head.

You smiled. 

“Anyway,” you added breezily, “I just find it funny. You’d think someone fighting crime on the weekends would be, I don’t know, better at staying under the radar.”

The twitch became a full pause.

Wally blinked, the smile still fixed but a little tighter. “Wait. What?”

You shrugged innocently. “Nothing. Just a weirdly specific thought I had.”

His mouth opened, then closed. His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was playing mental connect-the-dots. But you were already pivoting toward the dumpster, as if nothing had happened.

In unison, you both shoved your trash bags inside.

“Anyway,” you said, turning back toward the door, “guess I’ll see you around... upstairs.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Guess you will... downstairs.”

A pause.

“You always this annoying?”

You flashed him a grin over your shoulder. “Only when I know a secret.”

And you disappeared up the stairs before he could respond.

Moments after, Wally just stood there, blinking at the stairwell, one hand still on the dumpster lid.

What just happened?

How did you—?

“How the hell did she know?”

He said it out loud, to no one. It echoed a little. The dumpster, the birds, and maybe the universe heard it.

He pressed his lips together, brow furrowing. Okay. Okay. Logically speaking, there was no way you could know. He was careful in school. He was stupidly careful. He didn’t even speed in the hallways when he was late to class. Not unless it was a real emergency. 

And yet. You knew.

He groaned and leaned back against the wall.

You absolutely knew.

And worse? you were enjoying this. Like, actively thriving in the chaos. He could tell by the smile—the infuriatingly smug smile—that you were not going to let this go quietly.

Wally rubbed the bridge of his nose. Great. Amazing. He’d just walked into the most ridiculous civilian rivalry of his life.

But... also?

He couldn't stop smiling.

He hated that he was smiling.

Because yeah, okay—maybe he always thought you were cute. Like, back in highschool, he’d definitely noticed you. Smart, funny, kind of terrifying when you are stressed. But this? This version of you? The “I know your superhero alias and I’m using it to psychologically torment you through Wi-Fi names” version?

He was in trouble.

“She’s a menace,” he muttered. “A full-on gremlin.”

The smile wouldn’t go away.

He shook his head and started back toward the building, heart beating a little too fast, brain doing that annoying thing where it replayed your voice again and again like a remix:

“Only when I know a secret.”

He groaned.

This was going to be hell. He already knew it.

And he was already looking forward to it.

It started with the mail.

Nothing important, of course. You weren’t a monster. But every credit card ad, every coupon packet, every unsolicited catalog addressed to “Current Resident”? Straight into Wally’s mail chute. You stood at the mailboxes with quiet malice, a serene smile on your face, feeding the glossy paper doom into his slot like it was confetti.

A week in, you overheard him muttering “How does one person get this many Bed Bath & Beyond flyers?” through the vent.

A win.

But he retaliated quickly.

The next day, your Amazon package was marked “delivered,” but mysteriously absent. You stormed up the stairs, banged twice on his door, and were met with innocent blinking.

“Oh, this package?” he asked, holding it behind his back. “My bad. It was sitting outside and I figured someone might steal it. Y’know. Being neighborly.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “You’re practically a saint.”

He grinned. “I try.”

Meanwhile, your networks became your battleground.

His changed daily: — Apt201DosentPayHerRentonTime — Apt201SnoreLouderIDareYou — Ithinkyourapartmentistacky

To which you countered with: — NeighbourlyMyAss — NotYourDoormatWally — 203istheugliestnumberbtw

Then one morning, you woke up and noticed a third signal.

Your stomach dropped. You stormed into the hallway like a woman possessed— blind with rage.

And there he was.

Wally West, standing in his own doorway, phone in hand, scrolling slowly through the exact same Wi-Fi list.

His head lifted.

Your eyes locked.

He raised an eyebrow. Smirked—barely. “So…”

You waited. Arms crossed.

“…should we both move out,” he continued, “or just burn the building down and start over?”

You stared at him. “I’m partial to moving, personally.”

“Right? Clean slate, new lives, new internet.”

You didn’t answer. You just turned on your heel and walked back into your apartment, cheeks going nuclear. Not because you were embarrassed—okay, maybe a little—but because…

Well.

You’d thought about it. 

Back in high school, he’d been the boy who always had too much energy, who finished his tests early, who tapped his pencil like he was waiting for the bell so he could sprint into some impossible after-school plan. Always fast. Always laughing. Always just a little too much.

But he’d also been kind. Kind in this offhand, natural way—like it didn’t even occur to him to be anything else. He gave people his extra fries without being asked. He remembered names, even when he barely talked to you. 

And maybe you had noticed the way he looked at you sometimes—like you were an itch he couldn’t scratch. Like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to throttle you or hold your face in his hands and—

He made it easy to fall into the rhythm. To play this game. To want more.

And that was the problem.

Because you had a crush again.

And that was the most disrespectful part of all.

You slammed your door and immediately changed your Wi-Fi name to:

Apt???stopprojectingcreep

Seconds later, the anonymous neighbor’s Wi-Fi changed to:

yallsaysomewildstuffwhenyourecrushing

Wally, on the other hand, dragged a hand down his face, groaning loud enough that his upstairs neighbor—his problem, his nemesis, his longstanding high school crush with frankly criminally good eyebrows—probably heard it through the floor.

He could hear you now, stomping around your apartment like you were trying to summon a poltergeist. Or maybe just hunt him down and beat him with one of your twenty-five Bed Bath & Beyond flyers. Honestly, fair.

He flopped onto his couch, one arm thrown over his eyes.

This was spiraling. Rapidly.

He should have shut it all down. Be an adult. Have a conversation.

Except…

He liked this. A little too much.

You were funny. Sharp. Quick with a comeback and bold enough to toss junk mail down his chute like you paid rent in his mailbox. And God, when you looked at him in the hallway—exasperated, bright-eyed, trying not to smile—it pulled something warm and familiar in his chest.

He wasn’t supposed to like this.

He wasn’t supposed to like her. Not seriously. Dating with a secret identity was already a pain in the ass. Messy. Risky. One wrong slip and boom—your girlfriend’s in danger, she’s involved, she knows too much.

But…

But you already knew. Or suspected. And didn’t run.

He cracked one eye open, grinning despite himself.

Yeah, maybe he’d ask you out when this was over.

Assuming the building was still standing.

Two days later, you noticed that Wally’s Wi-Fi name changed again.

Apt201CanIBorrowSomeFlour?

You stared at it. Then smiled.

Yeahsurewtv203

You placed the little Tupperware of flour on his welcome mat with a post-it note that read:

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

An hour later, a gentle knock at your door.

You opened it to find a warm Tupperware filled with homemade cookies. Still soft. Still warm.

A sticky note taped to the lid:

“Not once have I ever said that. But thanks. Here are some extra cookies :)”

It started like that. That one batch, warm and sincere, was a ceasefire.

For a while.

The next morning, you found your real mail bundled neatly on your doormat, tied with red ribbon and a note that read, “Thought I’d spare you the effort of putting your unwanted mail in my chute –203”

So you retaliated with banana bread. A sick, twisted omen. Clearly trying to rope him into forgetting all of the junk he left in his mailbox. 

He ate the whole loaf.

Then he retaliated with a coffee from your favorite café, still warm..

You grinned the whole time you drank it.

A week passed like that—half-baked treats, weird little favors, and notes that got longer, funnier, somehow flirtier. Somewhere along the way, he slipped in a tiny Kid Flash Funko Pop. No explanation. Just the figurine sitting outside your door with a tag:

“For your collection. (Yes, I know that there are definitely others).”

“You’re lucky he’s cute,” you wrote.

You stuck it to his door and walked away before your brain could catch up with your hand.

The next morning, there was a reply taped to your door in his now-familiar handwriting:

 “So now I’m cute and lucky? Wow. What a morning.”

Beneath that, smaller:

“Also, you left your dignity in the hallway. Should I return it or…?”

You didn’t respond.

Instead, that night, you ordered a pack of googly eyes and stuck a pair to the Funko Pop on your desk. And took a picture and printed it out

Then left that, along with a chocolate bar with a note:

“To prevent further delusions.”

He retaliated by leaving a mug that was clearly supposed to say “World’s best boss”, except the word “boss” had been hastily scribbled out and replaced with the word “neighbor”.

Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore. But you weren’t complaining. It was good. It was weirdly good.

And then one night, there was a storm.

Not dramatic. Just lazy rain, soft thunder, and the hum of the city curling quiet around your building. You made tea. Thought about texting him. Didn’t.

Until there was a knock.

He stood there, hair wet from the walk up, hoodie sleeves pushed to the elbows. Holding a mug of his own and looking unusually… nervous.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, glancing past you into the apartment like maybe he expected lightning to have cracked your roof open.

You blinked. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “I dunno. Rain felt like… I don’t know. Excuse to check.”

You let him in.

He didn’t stay long. Just leaned against your counter, sipping tea.

You were almost at ease when he said it.

Quiet. Almost offhand.

“I like you, you know.”

Your head jerked up.

He wasn’t looking at you—just at his tea, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm.

“I mean, I liked you before,” he added, quickly. “In high school, when you kept blacking out in math class. I liked you then. But now you leave flour on my doorstep and threaten my ego and call me out over Wi-Fi names of all things, and I just…”

He finally looked up. “It’s kind of my favorite part of the day.”

You blinked.

Then smirked.

“I know,” you said, sweetly smug.

He groaned. “God. Why did I say anything—”

You laughed. Not mean. Just delighted.

“You like me,” you sing-songed. “You like me—”

“Okay, you’re going to make me regret this in record time.”

“Too late.”

Wally scrubbed a hand over his face but you could see the grin breaking through. He pulled out his phone, muttering, “I swear, you make me lose IQ points—”

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

“Wally.”

He tilted the screen toward you, just enough for you to see his Wi-Fi settings open. The new name, half-typed:

Apt201willyougooutwithme?

Before he could finish typing, you reached over, took his phone out of his hand, and finished the Wi-Fi name with a single word.

Yes

He stared.

You handed the phone back like it was no big deal, like your whole body wasn’t currently trying to implode.

He blinked down at the screen, then up at you.

“You’re serious?”

You sipped your tea like a woman with nothing to prove.

“You made the Wi-Fi ask. I just answered.”

And when he kissed you—just a little, just enough—you didn’t tease him for five whole minutes. Which, by your standards, was basically a love letter.

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers, smut, oral, p in v

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Everybody give it up for our bet reader @hellfiremunsonn ! This is sadly our last chapter. But if you know from my previous fics, flattery works with me. So comment/reblog if you want to see another chapter. It was so fun writing this. I love making these and I'm glad you enjoy them too.

⛤Chapter 5: Just Stay Eddie went back inside the bar, and told the group you were feeling pretty exhausted from all the excitement. He slipped Steve a 20 dollar bill so he could take care of the tab later. Eddie thought he was being sly but everyone knew exactly what was going on. It was nothing personal, you both just needed some time alone to process all these feelings and move forward. Eddie opened the driver side door and climbed in. Seeing you in his leather jacket while seated comfortably on the passenger side of his van sparked a bit of pride, he could feel it in his chest. It was his moment and he was going to make it happen. Eddie pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the main road. He turns the radio on and lights the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were once again taken aback by how kind he is, how he’s always looking out for you. You couldn't stop staring at his handsome face, he’s always made you feel weak in the knees but this time was different. It’s getting darker, there aren't many cars on the road. When you look out the window you notice how the sky is littered with bright stars, a sight you haven't seen in a long time. Eddie pulls into the apartment complex parking lot and parks in an empty space. He shuts off the engine and before you knew it, he was opening the van door. You take his hand as you carefully hop out. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you up to his place.  “I’ve got a little something for you upstairs.” He grins and kisses the top of your head. “Oh yeah? What might that be?” You return his playful tone. “All in due time, my love.” He says as he unlocks the front door. You expected Dustin to be there but it seems he’s gone out. You make it to Eddie's room and he quickly shuts the door behind you. He opens a small cabinet in his desk and pulls out two small glasses and a bottle of rye whiskey. “Can I pour you a drink?” “Yes please.” You giggle, Eddie used to be so rough around the edges, when did he get so sophisticated? He hands you the half full glass and you take a seat on the bed. He opens his closet and you can hear him fumbling around inside. After a moment he returns with something in his closed hand. He presents you with this red guitar pick necklace and you immediately recognize it.  “Do you remember this?” Eddie asks, taking a seat next to you. He motions for you to turn around and you hesitate at first but eventually turn your body away from him. He takes a sip and sets his glass down on the table. “Yeah! You used to wear it everyday, how could I forget?” You reply, you almost forgot he asked you a question. He drapes the necklace around your neck and adjusts the clasp. Eddie moves your hair off to one side, “Y/N, you and I both know this can't be temporary. I don’t want this to end when you leave, so I need you to tell me something, okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair.  “Do you really love me? Or is this something temporary. We’re adults now, things are different and more complicated. But I know my feelings for you have never changed.” Eddie admits while resting his chin on your shoulder. “I do…I love you so much it's stupid. At first I felt the same way, like you could have any girl you wanted so I had to be just some fling, right?” You take a drink, the liquor burns your throat, reminding you that you are in fact, an adult with adult feelings. You place your glass on the side table. “Eddie, I don’t think I want to go back to Shelbyville.” The thought hit you so hard. Why are you still there? “You don’t have to go. You could just stay and be mine.” He says, barely above a whisper. His face is really close, the thought of being his and only his made your heart pound. “Just stay.” He whispers in your ear. His voice is sticky sweet and his words ignite a fire within you. 

You turned around and kissed him hard. Eddie wraps one arm around your waist, the other carding through your hair. Your arms slowly wrap around his neck, each kiss more heated than the last. While your tongues dance in sync, Eddie slides his jacket off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. He slips one hand up your shirt which sends a shiver up your spine. You tug on Eddie's hoodie, he immediately gets the hint and removes it along with his shirt. It didn't take long to get you out of your clothes and in his sheets. Lost in the moment, you both surrendered to desire, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Lips brushed against cheeks, trailing tender kisses along jawlines and necks. Each touch a whispered promise of longing and each kiss was a unveiled secret.  Eddie explored every inch of your body with his fingertips. He was slow, reveling in the moment that he thought he would never have. He maneuvered himself on top of you and continued to plant kisses down your neck to your chest. With his free hand he rubs his thumb over your sensitive nipple. Your breath hitched and you let out a small whine. Your mind was in an intoxicating haze as Eddie’s lips went lower and lower. The anticipation was killing you but at the same time the thrill of it all was magic. Eddie kisses your inner thighs, you grab ahold of the sheets. He slips his tongue between your folds and everything melted away. The room was soon filled with soft moans and heavy breathing, you started to lose yourself in it all. You didn't have to chase that climax for very long, Eddie made sure to get you there with no effort on your part. When his face appeared from under the sheets you couldn't help but grab the back of his neck and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Eddie slipped himself between your legs and positioned himself at your entrance. Your hands roamed his body while you kissed his collarbones. He slowly slid his cock inside of you, he let out a low groan. This is everything Eddies ever dreamed about, the mental image of you underneath him will be burned into his mind for eternity. The way you feel is pure ecstasy to him, your soft skin and the way you taste was better than he could have imagined. He slowly pulls out and back in, making sure not to cause you any pain. He picks up the pace as you moan into his neck. “You’re so wet ah–You feel so fucking good.” Eddie growls into your ear, he thrusts into you deeper, and deeper. Eventually earning him a cacophony of moans and swears from your pretty mouth. It made him smirk, knowing he could unravel you so easily. He motions for you to roll over onto your stomach. You follow his lead and arch your back, allowing him to slide inside of you once again. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer and thrusts into a little harder than before. Your face is buried in a pillow, all Eddie could hear was more muffled screams and something that sounded like his name. “Mhmm…that's my girl, you sound so pretty. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.” He says, his breath is starting to sound heavy, he could feel you tightening around him. He knows you're close, even after all these years he can still read your body like an open book. “Eddie I’m gonna…” You trail off, Eddie keeps up the pace, his fingers dig into your hips as you both climax, one after the other. Eddie lets out a moan followed by a string of swears. Thank goodness no one is home yet, it felt like you both made a lot of noise. Eddie slides out of you and pulls the covers over the both of you. Your legs intertwined, he peppers your face with kisses and you giggle. His arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible. You’ve craved these quiet moments of connection. In Eddie's arms you found sanctuary and safety. There were no masks to hide behind, no pretenses to uphold. Your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. “Now I definitely don’t want to go back to Shelbyville.” You finally break the silence and Eddie chuckles.

“It was that good huh?” Eddie smirks, “If you stay, you can have this whenever you like.” He affectionately taps your nose with his index finger.  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Munson.” You kiss him softly, “I accept your terms.” You whisper against his lips, followed by a smile. Eddie presses his lips to yours once again, his fingers card through your hair. Time seemed like it was standing perfectly still, all your worries have melted away. It was a feeling you haven't felt in a long time, something like contentment or peace. “Where home!” Said Steve’s disembodied voice carried through the apartment. “Shit…” You pull back and both curse in unison.

[imagionationstation]

Once Upon A 2012Donnie Au: Masterpost

(Because I am incapable of not giving him an alternative life)

Dona AU:

Summary: The 2012 series but Donnie is gender-swapped.

(Aka: biologically a female and identifies that way)

Or, the Author fixes everything in canon. You’re welcome.

Status: Brain Child

Story Clips: New Girl In Town

Original & Ask Compilation: First Concept

Episode Summaries

Question Spree

Design Written Concept

Sibling Dynamic

Baby Dee

Bigfoot Redirect

Splinter’s POV and More!

Caseytello

Art: Dona Sketches, Surprise Dona

What Was Lost Au:

Summary: Donnie is separated from his brothers from a young age and forced to live his life under Kraang dictatorship. His brothers grow up with Splinter, all memory of him forgotten. Life goes on: they go to the surface; they fight the Foot and the Kraang. And yet, there’s a rift that exists between the brothers, one that they cannot explain. When Donatello returns, he unknowingly drags the rift to light and unintentionally brings changes with him.

The only question is, are they for the better?

Or, Donnie is feral boy and his brothers adopt him

Status: Story in progress

Story: A03 & Wattpad

Art: Lil Scribble

Fanart: Comic & Drawings, Precious Soul, Beginning Scene

Competition: Opening clip, Closing clip

Raising A Tello Au:

Summary: After Splinter’s passing, the brothers begin cleansing the city of what’s left of Kraang chemicals and tech before any unsuspecting humans can stumble upon it. After Donnie is dosed in chemicals, he’s reduced to a baby. The brothers are forced to raise him all over again while living their own lives. It comes with it’s own set of challenges. Things change and new friends are made, but at the end of the day, they’re just trying their best.

Or: The Author wants to try a story where there is no magical cure. Also baby Donnie and Mamma Leo all the way <3

Status: Story In Progress

Story: A03 & Tumblr Chapter List

Art: Mask Tails

Pink Rays Au:

Summary: Two mutant turtles were created by the Kraang sixteen years ago. Their experimentation was deemed stable and successful, warriors able to overcome challenges in the offensive and defensive. Seven years ago, two more were developed with the intention of combining Kraang&Mutant DNA for the first legion of warriors to defend against the Tricertons.

Due to unforeseen events, an Original and Clone must be traded away. The last two bond under Kraang supervision. Six years ago, the experiment was put into practice before the lab was put under threat. During shipment, the last Original and Clone is lost.

The Kraang thought their experiment ruined- until, they began sense the presence of a new telepathic link. One that’s not under the leadership of Kraang Prime. Now, as the turtles scramble to find one another, the Kraang have set out to reclaim their warrior.

Or: The author gives April’s powers to Donnie because plot.

Status: Brain Child

Story: Short A03 Experimentation

Art:

Briefly Discussed AUs:

Broken Spectre AU: Summary

Highschool Human AU: OneShot

Donnie’s SAINW Arc: Summary & Meeting Mikey

AUs I have permission to play with:

A 2v2 Au: (Temporary Designation)

Ask Chain with Au Moments

Fanfic Ask Answered

Memes Found While I Was Bored

Empty Graves AU:

Answered Ask

Availing Apollo AU:

What if 2012xRottmnt?

What if Hidden City and Draxum?

What if Champion Donnie?

What if Spoiled Brat Donnie?

What if Apollo?

What if Fashionista?

[lurafita]

Random thing

When i read teen aus about shadowhunters,sometimes i don't know if I would prefer to see Magnus in a rich family if he lived with Asmodeus,as a in the norm guy with a questionable family or as mid-poor,being just a chill kid who goes out on the town everyday and that started to work early

Honestly,i think it depends on the type of fanfiction for me

Whats your preference?? :)

- the fanfiction person

I might not get done with this during the bus drive, because I have a lot to say about this actually, but I will try.

I have,... Not really a fic idea, but... Do you know this thing where you have an idea for like separate scenes that don't really have a plot to them and things come to you in pieces that don't really fit together yet... I'm bad at explaining this.

Okay, let's just say that I have had thought about a mundane setting where the gang is in highschool together, and Magnus lives with his super rich father and everyone thinks he has always been rich and spoiled and all that. And Magnus doesn't do anything to abuse them of that idea. Hos close friends know the truth, and that's enough for Magnus.

But the truth is that he only came to live with asmodaddy 2 or 3 years ago.

And before that, he lived with his mom. And his mother might have had some mental problems. Believing that a demon had impregnated her, and certain that the demon would claim her child if she stayed where she was. So she ran away. She delivered Magnus in a free clinic, and then took him as soon as she could slip away. And from then on they lived basically on the streets. Sometimes they would have a temporary home, sometimes they would find refuge in a religious commune. One time they were in a cult. But many nights were spent without shelter. Begging for money, food, water. Magnus grew up knowing what it felt like to be so hungry that you felt sick. To be so cold that you almost can't feel your toes and fingers anymore. To fear getting sick so much, because you knew you couldn't afford medicine. To be on your guard all the time because others might prey upon you.

His mother might have given him love, but she didn't give him safety.

Then either his mother died and Magnus is taken in by the police and they inform asmodaddy,or something else happens, but Magnus gets found after many years and is moved in with asmodaddy.

And asmodeus is rich. Even normal level income would have felt rich to Magnus, but asmodeus is super rich.

And after some time getting used to it, yeah, Magnus enjoys his newfound wealth. No more going hungry, no more being cold, wet, sick and miserable. No more fear that someone will rob you or hurt you while you are asleep and defenseless.

Asmodeus might not be as affectionate as his mother had been, but other people just don't understand what it means to no longer be so fundamentally scared all the time. So Magnus doesn't care if others think he is a spoiled rich kid. Because that is so much better than what he was before.

What most of his classmates also don't know, is that he asked his father to donate to specific charities that helped Magnus and his mom out some. And that Magnus and his friends help out at the local soup kitchen once a week.

Of course, since this would be a malec fic in the end, Alec finds out eventually 😉

So, to answer your question, I see teen Magnus as both rich and poor, most of the time.

[ode2rin]

us again 🙁🙁🙁🙁 it was actually so good i’m so glad you decided to pick it up again THANK YOU FOR SHARING TJAT WITH US DONT EVER LEAVE PLSKDJFB

Anyway i will send a long ask about quotes i liked because i need to express my awe and support and compliment U because omg. what.

After all, everything here in this town is about you and him. 

i like how you decided to set it in a town instead of just saying smth like city or whatever, because i find it more like … romantic? and YES the way we rot in his memories he’s never getting rid of us we are his childhood and literally 19 years of his life t-t THE OTHER HALF OF HIS HEART (like u said).

And deep down, he didn’t want to believe it either – until that day you decided not to show up when you promised you would.

OUCH. the paragraphs before this one too i love the way you portrayed his coping to himself and how much of an effect we had on him 😭😭 at first i was like wrf i can’t believe we ghosted him like that but after reading the letter i would definitely do the exact same thing i’m ngl 😭😭

A thousand emotions danced in his eyes, each one a testament to the love that once blossomed between you.

i love it when they can’t ever forget about us. the use of the word blossom makes it seem like such a temporary thing and it just screams highschool romance because flowers don’t blossom often (like what… once a year or smth???) and that’s like saying our love blossomed and was peak in the past and idk what i’m saying but i hope yk what i’m saying and i hope i’m not misinterpreting ur work LOL but i just had to sauce this one in here too

In this universe, you're just some two ghosts standing in the place of you and him, haunted by the memories of what once was while trying to remember what it feels to have a heartbeat.

the alternate universe comparison I EAT IT UP ALWAYS BUT IVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE USE GHOST BEFORE TO DESCRIBE IT AND IM JUST LIKE WHAT YOURE SO SMART !!! HAUNTED BY MEMORIES TOO?? MIMI IS SO BIG BRAIN

while you share a kiss as greedy and fiery as the sea’s yearning for the moon.

the sea’s yearning for the moon that’s all.

I would’ve traded all my tomorrows for just one yesterday with you.

now this is genius. traded the tomorrows aka trading your entire future and dream and careers just for one moment in your fleeting highschool teenage romance with sae that was left in the past ……. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

so yeah. i love your writing lots and i’m glad we’re moots<3 thank you mimi!!!!! and thanks for listening to my little rant tehe

yumi. YUMI. i would really really really love to hug you right now like this INSTANT (ಥ﹏ಥ)

the fact that you even took the time to go over the whole fic (ik it's a lot bit ._.) is enough to make me go ➡️ o(〒﹏〒)o btw i can't even start to articulate better word to tell you how thankful i am. YOU CAN HAVE A HUNDRED MANGOES FROM ME PLEASE 🥭

let me go over your fave quotes (that made my heart go swell btw wdym i have quotes now) AAAAAAA

➼ the small town !! let me telle you something, i actually love small town romance like a not so normal amount, it's prolly included in my top 5 tropes pls. i just love it when the other leaves and the other stays and by fate, they just meet again to rekindle what was once their shared memories. childhood friends to lovers is nice but if it's small town? NOM NOM I LOVE IT i've always wanted to try writing it and who's a better choice to try than our mr. i went to spain right here (even if it's not fullblown focus on that trope..)

➼ THE LETTER AHSJKAJSHAJ ngl, i would also do the same thing .. i just think sae is the kind to hold grudges lmao he definitely held MASSIVE hatred for not showing up

➼ i like using the word blossom in describing past love sometimes because (1) i love flowers, (2) it's a one time thing aka seasonal and it fits characs that yknow will fall in love once or twice in their whole life and that's it, (3) and lastly, it's temporary and it passes like time.. I LOVE YOU YUMI YOU REALLY GET ME I'M GIVING YOU SMOOCHES RN

➼ two ghost is actually a song !! i love that song so much (rumor has it that it's about taylor swift since she's harry's ex 👀) i've been listening to it and got inspired by the lyrics <3

➼ there's this children bed time story my friend told me abt that the reason why there are high tides is bec of a prince imprisoned in the sea and the moon was actually a goddess that he got punished for loving? and everytime the tide is high it means he's trying to reach for the goddess I CAN'T REMEMBER BUT THAT WAS THE STORY BEHIND IT and i decided to use it bec damn that story is the definition of yearning come on..

➼ now that line.. i was making pancakes when i thought of that oh my god and i reached out to the nearest paper i could find bec what if it leaves my mind 😭 ngl i love love love that :(

it's ME who should be glad 🫂 i'm glad i wrote make you mine bec it led u to MEEEEEEEE (iirc we became moots bec of it :>)

[fusiforms]

Federal Funding to California, NIH Budget Justifications, Williams College

1.

This is a developing story, but it appears that the Administration may be gearing up to significantly cut federal funding across California. 

The SF Chronicle is reporting that the state is bracing for cuts related to the University of California and CSU systems.

White House deputy press secretary Kush Desai has stated that “no final decisions” have been made on potential California funding cuts. 

Governor Gavin Newsom posted a response to the CNN article on X.

The President posted last week that “large scale Federal Funding will be held back” if a 16 year old transgender highschooler was allowed to compete in the state championship track and field event. She competed, won several medals, and was embraced by her peers. 

At the moment, it is unclear what cause will be given if there are cuts or exactly what federal funds would be cut. 

2.

The NIH’s budget request to congress was released today.

Included are requests from each institute. The requests assume the consolidation of ICOs that has come up elsewhere. Under this proposal, NCATS and ARPA-H would move over to a new office (the Office of the Assistant Secretary for Innovation) within HHS.

There is a lot to sort through (there is a decent summary on Stat), but the request assumes a 15% cap on IDC rates and substantial decreases in the amount of funded proposals.

These budget requests are just that. Congress sets funding levels, not the executive branch. 

3.

A temporary restraining order (TRO) has been quickly granted to block the President’s Executive Order cutting off Harvard’s ability to sponsor visas for students and postdocs. This provides short term relief, but it is likely that University faces a long and difficult legal battle.

4.

Williams College has become the first institution in the United States to decline NSF and NIH grants because of the inclusion language that requires awardees to certify that they will not “promote or advance diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) … in violation of federal antidiscrimination laws.” I believe that the College has about 30 current awards between NSF and NIH.

5.

Fifteen science and patient-focused organizations sent NIH Director Jay Bhattacharya a letter today (PDF) calling for him to fulfill his promise that the NIH will spend all of its FY2025 budget. Dr. Bhattacharya will be testifying to the Senate Appropriations Committee Tuesday morning about the FY2026 budget.

6.

Earlier this week House Majority Leader Steve Scalise introduced legislation to rescind 9.4 billion dollars that have already been appropriated. These funds were originally intended for USAID and public broadcasting. The vote could come as early as next week, but if congress does not act in the next 45 days then the funds must be spent as originally intended.

Photo by me, 35mm

[zooterchet]

Titles of Honor (A Teaching Set: Kilpatrick versus Deveraux)

Titles of honor, in Romali culture, are intended to detract from a behavior the Romalian is at a deficit for performing.

Duke, Viscounty, Sir, Madame, Monarch, Lord, and a County, all have a tradition forced on them, by common title; just so the Bretons live at peace, and they don't all die, from all of the Gypsies trying to steal boatloads of "cash" from each other, any item with a mark that can be exchanged for a narcotic (even chocolate).

Dukes, have refused "sire", by seeing it as "sir-ee" in print.

A Viscounty, is a Viking, having done something so repulsive, that you have stripped your ethnic identity, and now produce poorly made culture for each other, believing yourself to be in charge of children, in a family setting.

Sir, means you have stabbed someone in the back so brutally to create a heroic legend for yourself, and get to sign a book in Westminster Abbey full of "famous espions" (recently signed by Osama Bin Laden, in the 1980s).

Madame, means you have contracted a deal on prostitution, for marriage, by harassing "uncles", people in the family that were unaware that their marriages are annulled for doing the same before marriage, therefore their wives can't cheat on their husband so their husbands can't receive the same.

Monarch, is an author's thief; you are responsible for printing work, as others, that have responded to "scandal", a public rumor, and therefore, you attract soldiers, always generals, by the quality of your writ at "humour"; the ability to use the work, to sanguinate blood (kill people and remark death).

Lord, is the Hebrew title for "child", any sex; this is the curse to be a police officer, for all time, brought into criminal unions, called "gangs"; what you now call "bikers".

County, is a family title, of the thing you are opposite of, portrayed in film and children's media, as you obeying the title, as the character; otherwise, you are free to serve, without that fat bag of money you're after, your leadership.

My kinsman, Richard Coughlin, a Deveraux, is the Lord of Essex (a mansion full of wax figures, of famous villains) and a Tyrone (honorable and just), and I am David Charlebois, a Kilpatrick, the Tyrone (honorable and just).

If I try to proposition a woman for marriage, initiating, I stutter; portrayed as Porky Pig. I can report no anti-Semitism.

Richard Coughlin, has to remain vigilant, for "sigils"; any term of letter of abuse, from the women's community, and if propositioned, he has to accept, unless a dowry on law of suit from the father is involved.

Together, we determined in the 2000s, that marijuana was the method of ingress and movement, his insight, and my insight, you have to have a quadrant of three, with an expanding joint, your home neighborhoods in highschool, your living quarters in college, and the same college, in New York range, of Albany.

I'm Hopkinton Highschool, Attleboro Massachusetts, and UMass-Amherst.

Richard Coughlin, is Hopkinton Highschool, Munson Massachusetts, and UMass-Amherst.

I have an accomplished career in vigilante espionage, fighting the Fugitive Slave Act and the Arkadian Police League and their friends in the USMC out of John McCain's office, for the Royal Marines, a British reconnaissance unit, my unit supported by the Royal Air Force; a freight unit, often on ground, different from the Naval Flight unit, an Air unit out of the British Army.

Rich has an accomplished career in naval espionage, for the Japanese Harukawa construction division, on behalf of Japanese rights of envoy to transition to safety, if Yakuza in British employ, to German schools of logic in Canada; he served in a Naval Air unit, for the British, intended for deportments of soldiers to film school, to learn MI-6 ciphers, produced by MI-5.

MI-6, a hexadecimel unit of military intelligence Romalians, and MI-5, their Giorgio support, forming a temporary Gadze (an anti-Gypsy, a political line, "the endless sea", having concerted in family politics inside or outside of family), a psychiatrist or cinematographer, temporarily aligned as the same, on a stolen pen or origin, printing a movie off of files provided by the International Monetary Fund (the IMF); a political patronage unit; the "put", in the World Bank's stock market play; you're betting on a politician to fail, after you "cipher" an MI-6, temporarily, through a Jehovah's Witness; a Lancaster empowered to remove military powers through addicts therapy; death by doctors, support groups.

[upward-stair]

R+R 3: Time Perception and It's Hold On my Life

Since I was in elementary school I've always been extremely aware of time like how long it would take to get places, how long certain things took to do and how much time people spent preforming certain tasks. For the longest time I kept a watch and would compulsively check it every 30 minutes to am hour. Some days it was so bad I would check it even if I already knew the approximate or even the exact time. I no longer have a watch on me everyday but I do still check the time rather frequently.

Something that I find myself doing now that I'm more responsible for me own appointments and general schedule is I will mentally map out how long it will take for me to finish all task that atr nessisary for me to get to the main event of the plan. I'll provide an example using a doctor's appointment.

Let's say that I have a doctor's appointment at 9:30 am (I always start my days early). Either as I wake up or the night before I would think the following sequence in my head.

Ex:

"I have my alarm set for 8:00am and waze(a GPS app) says that It will take me 27 minutes to get there. That means I take 15 minutes in the bathroom till 8:15 then I pick and choose an outfit in 10 minutes. I'll likely only use 5 of those minutes to actually dress up but the rest is for any sort of procrastination till the next task at 8:25. After that I will gather any materials I need for the outing(🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈/hj) till 8:40 to account for anything I miss doing before or as a buffer for if I wake up late, procrastinate or get side tracked doing something else. From 8:40 till 8:50 I prepare and/or consume breakfast. After that I prepare music for the ride there and hopefully arrive early on account of the extra time I built in. "

Its quite a lot especially considering it usually only takes one phone call from someone else or a demand from my mother to ruin the plan but I always do it for everything.

This also leads me into my need to be early and do so consistently. All for my senior year of highschool school always started at 8:10am but I always wanted to be in the building or at least at the parking lot by 7:42 am. It was to the point where if I was a minute late I would become stressed and anxious even though I would always be early or at least on time if I had stopped to talk to a friend or my partner or needed to complete a task prior ro attending class.

Another aspect of how it controls my life is when I can track information (I will be making a post about this eventually) from it. One thing that really annoyed me when I first started using Tumblr is that by default times and dates are all removed from posts. You can turn it on in settings but it made it feel as if I was always just looking at things that happened forever ago instead of recently. How I use time on posts for example is to determine the mood of my mutuals (very few on here usually more on Instagram and other places). If I see that a person posts that they are mad about something at 2pm. and they post something that they like at 4pm typically (obviously it's person specific but I'm generalizing here) they are over that topic or have pushed it to the side for temporary joy. In the other circumstance though 4pm post about the same thing or a similar thing means that I usually inquire about the topic if nessisary. It also leads me to track when specific actions took place based on memory (not based on post time but general time and sequence of events). If I lost my keys after coming home in the after noon at 3 and I know that at 4:10(I don't usually remember the time just the event orders) I was on a call where I was spinning them on my fingers and I accidentally flung it behind something but never picked it up then I will check there first. It also leads me to track people and their actions (not in a weird way. I am not stalking people even though it would be easy for me to). Say I know someone that can't drive has a date at 4:30pm and we have a text conversation from 4pm to 4:15 pm. If the conversation was on hobbies they maybe thinking about what they will say on the date especially considering if it's their first date with this person. I can also conclude that they may be taking public transport or may have hitched a ride with another friend to get there and Depending on where they live and where the date is I may even be able to note their location at a specific time based on how long they've been going for. Again not in a creepy stalker way. More of a you presented the information and I connected the dots way (instead of actively looking for it). Back to school, I did a similar thing with how I memorize the schedules of all my friends because they just talked about their classes at specific times.

thanks for reading and remember that windows and mirrors both show you the world but you can only pass through one of them

-Q