#i got to tell all the dirt i had on people from my class in class of the class (<- literal translation of час на класа) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byhuenii · 6 days ago

Text

False God

Pairing College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis A story of stolen glances, forbidden touches, and the kind of love that’s impossible to ignore—between a boy who swore he wouldn’t, and the girl who makes him break every rule. As their worlds collide in quiet moments, lingering looks, and reckless temptation, neither can deny the pull that draws them together, no matter the consequences.

Based on “The Summer I Turned Pretty” Season 3, Episode 6 and “False God” by Taylor Swift.

Word Count 10K

Themes + Warnings Friends-to-lovers energy with teasing and banter , "Forbidden romance / off-limits love" , Public but secret affection , Emotional pining , Soft domestic , Emotional conflict over relationship boundaries , Sibling interference / banter that may come off as protective or overbearing , Soft angst w/ fluffy resolution , COLLEGE AU! , HOCKEY PLAYER! BUCKY (my favorite..)

— False God But we can patch it up good, make confession- And we're begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you

M. list | Request (Open but Slow)

You’d been at Brooklyn University for exactly three weeks, and you still couldn’t tell if the people here were standoffish… or if you just looked like the type who’d get lost trying to find the cafeteria. Which, to be fair, had already happened twice.

It wasn’t bad here — your classes were fine, your professors were fine, your friends were… well, acquaintances so far. You’d fallen into a loose group of friendly people from your Intro to Psych lecture — Yelena, Kate, and Peter — who somehow seemed to know everyone on campus. They’d been helping you get your bearings, but between textbooks, rent, and overpriced coffee, your bank account was starting to wheeze for mercy.

That’s when you saw it.

Pinned to the corkboard in the student center, surrounded by ads for study groups and lost earbuds:

Babysitter Needed — Good Pay, Flexible Hours. Call or text: [number]

No cartoon clipart. No desperate “please.” Just… straightforward.

You hesitated for all of thirty seconds before taking a picture. Babysitting wasn’t exactly your dream gig, but it beat mopping the dining hall floors for minimum wage.

By Friday evening, you were standing in front of a tidy little townhouse just off campus, clutching your tote bag like it was a shield.

The door swung open before you could even knock.

“You’re the babysitter?”

The girl standing there was not the sticky-fingered toddler you’d pictured. She was tall for thirteen, with sharp blue eyes, dark hair pulled into a messy braid, and an expression that suggested she’d already decided whether or not she liked you.

“Uh… yeah,” you said. “You must be Rebecca?”

“That’s me,” she said, stepping aside. “Shoes off, we have a no-shoe policy. Mom’s paranoid about dirt.”

You toed your sneakers off and followed her inside, bracing for some kind of awkward icebreaker. Instead, she plopped down on the couch, gestured for you to sit, and hit you with:

“So. What do you think about hockey players?”

You blinked. “Um… I think they probably smell like sweat and freezer burn?”

She smirked like she’d been given exactly the answer she wanted. “Noted.”

Rebecca was… a character. In the span of twenty minutes, she’d grilled you about your major (“Communications? Sounds fake but okay”), your hometown (“Never heard of it”), your relationship status (“Single? Excellent”), and your stance on pineapple pizza (“Wrong, but forgivable”).

You, in turn, discovered that she was startlingly smart, obsessed with cheesy horror movies, and had an alarming ability to roast you in a way that somehow felt affectionate.

Halfway through a bowl of popcorn, you realized you were actually having fun. Babysitting a thirteen-year-old was way easier than chasing a toddler around — Rebecca mostly just wanted someone to hang out with.

When her parents got home, you collected your pay, said your goodbyes, and walked back to your apartment thinking, Okay, this kid is great… but why does she even need a babysitter?

Upstairs in her room, Rebecca flopped onto her bed, phone in hand. She opened her messages and typed:

Rebecca: She’s perfect. Don’t mess it up.

The reply came back fast.

Bucky: What are you talking about???

Rebecca just grinned.

Brooklyn U was starting to feel… tolerable.

You had your schedule down, you knew which coffee shops had the cheapest refills, and, most importantly, you’d fallen in with a trio of people who made campus life a lot more interesting: Yelena, the Russian exchange student with the world’s most sarcastic sense of humor; Kate, who claimed she was “totally in the archery club” but had yet to show up to practice; and Peter, a science major who carried too many books and talked way too fast about molecules you’d never heard of.

They were chaotic, loud, and somehow made you feel like you belonged.

It was during one of your many treks between classes that you noticed him.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Messy brown hair that looked like he’d just run a hand through it. Duffel bag slung over his back. He walked like he knew exactly where he was going — like everyone in the hallway should probably move out of his way.

You passed him once, then twice, then what felt like every other day. And each time, he’d glance at you — quick, like he wasn’t trying to be caught — and keep walking.

You figured he was just one of those familiar campus faces you’d never actually talk to.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky Barnes had been hearing about you for weeks.

Rebecca’s “babysitter updates” had become a regular feature in his life, sandwiched between hockey practice and late-night study sessions. According to her, you were “funny, but in a cool way,” “liked pineapple on pizza, which is a red flag but she’ll allow it,” and “had the best hair ever, don’t argue with me.”

Bucky had imagined you plenty of times — some sweet, wholesome babysitter who probably wore pastels and read storybooks. He didn’t expect you to be you — the new transfer student he’d been noticing in the halls since January.

Your first real almost-interaction was a total accident.

You were balancing a large iced coffee in one hand, your phone in the other, when the heavy door to the engineering building swung open right into your path.

He was holding it — that guy. Up close, you could smell a faint mix of cologne and… ice? Like the inside of a rink.

“Oh— thanks,” you mumbled, slipping past before your coffee could suffer a tragic fate.

He nodded once, watching you walk away, and then immediately hated himself for not saying something more.

It went on like that for over a week. Passing glances. Accidental near-collisions. The kind of thing where you were vaguely aware of each other but didn’t break the silent routine.

Until one Thursday night.

Thursday night, you were on the Barnes’ couch, babysitting as usual, helping Rebecca with her math homework (or at least pretending to — she spent more time trying to distract you with random trivia than actually solving anything).

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, and Rebecca scooped it up before you could reach it.

“Oh, it’s my brother,” she said casually, already answering. “Hey, Bucky. What’s up?”

Bucky was calling from his dorm — the nice dorms on the north side of campus, the ones with actual kitchens and single bedrooms. He usually only called to check in after practice, his voice still low and tired from skating drills.

“Nothing much,” he said, tossing his hockey stick onto his bed. “Just got back. Mom said you had the babysitter over tonight?”

Rebecca grinned, eyes flicking toward you. “Yeah, she’s here. We’re doing math—” She said the word like it was the most tragic thing imaginable.

From the couch, you leaned over and called, “Rebecca, can you hand me my notebook?”

You didn’t even think about it — you just hummed in confirmation when she passed it to you, distracted by trying to find your place in the problem set.

But on the other end of the line, Bucky went still.

That hum. That voice.

He’d heard it before — in the hallway, over the slam of heavy classroom doors, in passing when you mumbled a quick thanks for holding the door open.

Now, finally, it had a name.

Rebecca, oblivious to the weight of the moment, said it easily. “Here, Y/N.”

Bucky repeated it under his breath after they hung up, rolling it around like he was testing how it sounded.

You weren’t just the pretty girl he kept seeing on campus.

You were the babysitter Rebecca wouldn’t shut up about.

You didn’t know how Rebecca did it, but she did.

One second, you were sitting on the couch, flipping through Netflix options while she scrolled her phone. The next, the doorbell rang, and Rebecca sprang up like she’d been expecting it all night.

She came back with a gray cardigan draped over her arm.

“Bucky brought me my favorite cardigan from Mom’s,” she said innocently, tossing it onto the couch.

You glanced up in time to see him — tall, broad-shouldered, messy-haired — stepping inside, holding the door like he wasn’t sure if he should actually come in.

“Oh,” you said, straightening. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like it didn’t need to be any louder.

“This is my brother, Bucky,” Rebecca announced, somehow managing to make it sound like you weren’t already vaguely aware of his existence. “Bucky, this is Y/N.”

You smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

It should have ended there �� polite hellos, a quick handoff, door closes. But Rebecca, master of manipulation, clapped her hands together.

“Oh! I left my charger upstairs,” she said, heading for the stairs. “You two can just… talk or something.”

And then she was gone.

Bucky lingered by the counter for a moment, hands in his hoodie pocket. You could hear her footsteps above, suspiciously slow for someone retrieving a charger.

“So,” you started, filling the silence, “you’re the hockey player.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “She told you that?”

“She tells me a lot of things,” you said, smirking.

That made him chuckle — low, a little self-conscious. “Yeah. I play for the school team.”

You nodded. “I transferred here for my major, so I’m still figuring out who’s who. Apparently hockey is a big deal here?”

“Only when we’re winning,” he said, smiling just a little.

It was awkward at first, but not in a bad way — like you were both trying to find the right rhythm. Somewhere between discussing campus coffee spots and the absolute chaos of Rebecca’s movie tastes, you found yourselves actually laughing.

From upstairs, Rebecca yelled, “I heard that! My movie taste is excellent!”

That broke the tension completely — you both laughed, and suddenly the conversation felt easy.

When you left that night, Rebecca was already tucked into bed. Bucky lingered by the door as you put your shoes on.

“Bye, Y/N,” he said, and the way your name sounded in his voice did something weird to your chest.

After the door shut, Bucky wandered into the kitchen, where Rebecca was waiting with a smug look.

“…you didn’t tell me she was cute,” he muttered.

Rebecca smirked. “I literally did. Multiple times. And you’ve seen her around campus. Multiple times.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the faint smile stayed.

Bucky stayed in the kitchen a moment longer after you left, leaning on the counter like he was trying to piece something together. Rebecca sat across from him at the table, twirling a pen and looking far too pleased with herself.

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?”

Rebecca blinked innocently, all wide eyes and fluttering lashes. “Planning? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “You ‘accidentally’ left your cardigan at Mom’s, I ‘just happened’ to bring it over, and you ‘forgot’ your charger upstairs. You think I don’t see through that?”

Rebecca gasped like he’d accused her of high treason. “Wow. Accusations. Hurtful ones.”

Bucky gave her the flattest look he could muster, but after a long pause, he sighed and shook his head. “Right. Whatever you say, Becca.”

She grinned as he grabbed his keys. “Drive safe!” she called after him, way too cheery.

The drive back to his dorm wasn’t long — ten minutes, tops — but it felt longer.

He’d been tired when he left practice earlier, but now his mind wouldn’t quiet down. You kept drifting into his thoughts — the way you smiled when you talked about your major, the way you’d laughed when Rebecca yelled from upstairs. That laugh had stuck with him. It was warm, easy, real.

By the time he pulled into the dorm parking lot, Bucky was already debating telling Steve. Not Sam — Sam would never let him live it down — but Steve? Yeah, Steve would probably just nod, maybe give some vague advice about “taking a shot.”

Not that Bucky was going to. …Probably.

–

Babysitting Rebecca had turned into… not really babysitting.

That Saturday, the two of you had spent the whole afternoon wandering — from a tiny café with too many plants, to a bookstore you promised you’d “just browse” (you didn’t), to a thrift shop where Rebecca insisted on trying on every ridiculous hat she could find.

By the time you got back to her house, your legs were tired, your bag was heavier, and you were convinced that Rebecca was part human, part Energizer Bunny.

Then she turned to you with that look. “We should go to my brother’s hockey game tonight.”

You blinked. “Your brother?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Bucky. I’ve told you, like, a hundred times.”

Right. Bucky. The tall, broad-shouldered guy who showed up last week with the cardigan. The guy who, apparently, also played hockey. You’d filed that fact away and promptly forgotten it — until now.

“Come on,” she pressed. “Peter’s on the team too. You like Peter.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

By the time you and Rebecca got to the rink, the team was already warming up.

It took Peter all of three seconds to notice you. He grinned under his helmet, skated straight over, and practically slid to a stop in front of the glass.

“Y/N!” he called, tapping his stick against the boards. “Oh man, I didn’t know you were coming! You picked a good game, I’m feeling lucky tonight—”

You started laughing, because Peter’s energy was exactly the same on the ice as it was in class — frantic, excitable, and somehow still endearing.

Across the rink, Bucky heard that laugh.

It hit him like a shot of something strong — familiar and addictive. He glanced over, spotted you by the glass with Rebecca, and his stomach did a weird little flip.

Steve, skating by, noticed. “Go get your girl,” he teased.

Bucky gave him a look. “She’s not—”

“Wait, you have a girl?” Sam cut in from across the ice.

Bucky ignored them both and pushed off toward Peter, who was still talking your ear off.

Peter had barely finished his excited monologue when a shadow fell over you.

Bucky skated up, helmet under his arm, stick balanced casually in one hand. Up close, in full gear, he looked… huge. Broader, taller, like the pads weren’t just protective — they were made to make people like you lose coherent thought.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but warm. “Didn’t know you were coming to the game.”

You tilted your head, pretending you weren’t affected by the sight of him. “Didn’t know you played hockey.”

That smirk — subtle, one corner of his mouth tilting up like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Guess we’re both learning things tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like the fact you have a whole fan section?” You gestured to the cluster of students in the stands already holding up handmade signs with his number.

He leaned in slightly — enough that you could catch the faint scent of ice and clean soap under the chill of the rink air. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to see if I’m worth cheering for.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m here for you,” you shot back, lips twitching.

He chuckled, gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth for just a second too long. “Yeah? Then who are you here for?”

“Peter,” you said instantly, deadpan.

Peter, who was still standing right there, blinked. “Wait—”

Bucky shook his head, grinning. “Yeah, I don’t buy that for a second.”

“You should probably focus on warming up,” you teased, taking a step back toward the glass.

He held your gaze as he started to skate backward, slow and smooth. “Don’t worry, doll. I play better when there’s a reason to show off.”

Your cheeks went warm, and Rebecca immediately pounced on it, muttering under her breath, “Pathetic. Both of you.”

The game itself was a blur — lots of shouting, the thud of pucks against the boards, Peter making dramatic saves, and the crowd roaring when Bucky scored. More than once, you caught his eyes flick toward the stands. You didn’t look away.

After the final buzzer, the team flooded the ice. You waited by the exit with Rebecca until Bucky came walking over, helmet off, hair damp, jersey clinging in all the worst-best ways.

He looked good. Criminally good. And you shoved that thought deep, deep down before it could go anywhere dangerous.

Peter passed by, giving you a high-five and saying something about “celebration pizza.” The rest of the team wasn’t subtle — there were smirks, nudges, and at least one very loud “That’s her?!” that made Bucky glare.

You’d just stepped out into the crisp night air when you froze.

Your tote bag — the one with your keys — was still sitting on Rebecca’s couch, right where you’d dumped it earlier. You groaned. “Oh, no.”

Bucky, halfway to his car, looked over. “What?”

“I left my keys at your parents’ place,” you admitted, rubbing your temple. “And Rebecca’s with me so…”

Rebecca perked up, clearly already enjoying this. “Guess you’ll have to take us home, Buck.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a grin — soft, but with just enough teasing to make your stomach flip. “Sure, sweetheart,” he said easily. “But what’s the magic word?”

You groaned, half-laughing. “Really?”

He leaned his weight on one skate, still grinning. “What’s the magic word?”

You gave him your most exaggerated eye-roll, but the second your gaze met his, you felt the heat creep into your cheeks. “Please,” you muttered.

It wasn’t the teasing that got you — it was the sweetheart. You’d met him twice before tonight, and somehow, without warning, he’d shifted from awkward and quiet to casually flirty in a way that felt… dangerous.

The three of you piled into his car, Rebecca immediately stretching out in the backseat with her phone. You slid into the passenger seat, trying not to notice the way the cabin smelled faintly of his cologne and the lingering cold from the rink.

You both started the ride in easy conversation — talking about the game, how Peter had managed to block an impossible shot, Rebecca chiming in now and then with her brutally honest play-by-play.

But somewhere between the first red light and the turn onto his parents’ street, you realized you’d unconsciously shifted closer.

Bucky’s hands tightened on the wheel — not in frustration, but like he was keeping them there on purpose, steady, controlled. Like if he didn’t, one might end up resting casually on your thigh, and that… would change everything.

You kept your eyes on the road ahead, pretending you didn’t notice the way his jaw flexed every time you laughed at something Rebecca said.

If he noticed your flushed cheeks in the glow of the dashboard lights, he didn’t comment.

The drive back to his parents’ place felt shorter than it should have, and before you knew it, Bucky was pulling up in front of the familiar little townhouse.

Rebecca didn’t even wait for the engine to shut off before she was out the door, muttering something about a group chat emergency.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “Guess she’s got places to be.”

You laughed quietly, watching her dart up the walkway. “Yeah, apparently she’s a very busy thirteen-year-old.”

The sound of your laugh lingered in the air between you — softer now without the noise of the rink or Rebecca’s commentary. That’s when it hit you.

It was just you two.

You turned to him slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thanks for the ride, Bucky.”

He met your eyes, and without even thinking about it, said, “Of course. Anytime, angel.”

The word slipped out so naturally that it caught him off guard — but not as much as it caught you.

Your brows lifted, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “So first doll, then sweetheart, now angel?” you teased. “You’re gonna have to be careful. I might start to think you like me, Bucky.”

It was playful — but to you, it wasn’t just a joke. And to him, it wasn’t either.

His mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Yeah… I would have to.”

But then he was just looking at you. Really looking.

Noticing the way the streetlights caught in your eyes, how the corners of your mouth tilted up like you were trying not to smile too much. It wasn’t lust — it was… something deeper. Something heavier.

He was falling. And he knew it.

You broke the moment first, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Night, angel,” he said softly, watching you head up the walkway.

When he finally pulled away, the silence in the car was deafening.

He kept replaying it — the closeness, the way you’d teased him about the nicknames, the way “sweetheart,” “doll,” and now “angel” had rolled off his tongue like they’d always belonged to you.

And he had to remind himself — hard — that you were his little sister’s babysitter.

Nothing more. Nothing he could let himself want more.

But damn, he was in trouble.

It started small. A coffee here, a hallway there. Little things that didn’t seem like anything at first.

At least, that’s what Bucky told himself.

1. Coffee Shop “Coincidences”

The first time he saw you at the campus café, you were tucked into the corner by the window, laptop open, headphones in, sipping something pale green with a pinkish swirl at the bottom.

The second time, he asked Peter — casually, in the locker room — if he knew what you drank. Peter didn’t even look up from lacing his skates. “Matcha with raspberry syrup and oat milk. She gets it all the time.”

Bucky stored it away like a secret.

The next week, he timed his morning so he just happened to walk in as your drink was being made. When the barista slid it onto the counter, he picked it up before you could.

“Here,” he said, holding it out. “On me.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “And how’d you know my order?”

He shrugged, smirking just enough to make your stomach flip. “Lucky guess.”

2. The Campus Gravity

After that, you started noticing him more — in the quad, by the library, passing through the science building you swore he had no reason to be in.

Kate caught you watching him once and just smirked. Yelena wasn’t as subtle: “You’re staring. It’s gross. Do it less obviously.”

Meanwhile, Steve had become Bucky’s personal devil on the shoulder. “You’re circling each other like you’re in a nature documentary,” Steve said after practice one day. “Just ask her out.”

Bucky shoved him. “She’s my sister’s babysitter, punk.”

Steve only grinned. “Uh-huh. And you ‘coincidentally’ ran into her three times this week?”

3. The Movie Night That Wasn’t Planned

It was a Friday, and you were sprawled on the Barnes’ couch with Rebecca, halfway through a cheesy romcom, when the front door opened.

You looked up to see Bucky, keys in hand. “Forgot something,” he said, though he didn’t actually pick anything up.

Rebecca, suspiciously unfazed, went back to watching.

Bucky hovered for a second, then nodded toward the TV. “What are we watching?”

“Some movie Becca picked,” you said with a small smile. “She says it’s a classic. I say she’s lying.”

He chuckled and sat down at the other end of the couch. “Just for a minute.”

The minute turned into two hours.

Somewhere between bad dialogue and Rebecca’s sarcastic commentary, the three of you fell into easy conversation — the kind where you didn’t notice time slipping by.

By the time Rebecca was curled up and dozing against the armrest, it was just you and him, voices lower, talking about music, favorite places in the city, little pieces of your lives you didn’t usually share.

At one point, your knees brushed. Neither of you moved them away.

When you finally glanced at the clock, your stomach sank a little. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it.

You grabbed your bag and offered a quiet, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Night, angel,” he murmured — and this time, it wasn’t accidental.

Bucky couldn’t sleep.

Not because he wasn’t tired — hell, practice had wrecked him earlier — but because the moment he shut his eyes, he was back on the Barnes’ couch.

You were there, your knee brushing his. The TV was playing something dumb, and Rebecca was chiming in with commentary that had you laughing under your breath.

That laugh. God, it wasn’t even loud. Just soft and warm, and it stuck to him like sugar.

He remembered the way you leaned toward him when you said something quietly so Rebecca wouldn’t hear. The way your eyes lit up when he told you about his favorite late-night diner.

The way he almost didn’t want you to leave.

He shifted under the covers, dragging a hand over his face.

This was bad.

You were his little sister’s babysitter. Off limits. Too close. Complicated.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t.

Except… He already was.

He was memorizing your smile. The exact shade of your eyes when the light hit. The fact that your favorite drink was something he’d never even tried before, but now he wanted to.

He was already in too deep, and there was no pulling back now.

Bucky let out a groan, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

“You’re in trouble, Barnes,” he muttered to himself.

But all he could hear was that laugh. All he could feel was that brush of your knee.

And the worst part? He didn’t even want to forget.

By the time February rolled around, you’d stopped pretending you didn’t notice him.

It was impossible — he was everywhere. In the hallway outside your class, leaning against the wall with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. At the coffee shop, showing up exactly two minutes after you, drink already in hand. (Matcha, raspberry syrup, oat milk. He’d memorized it.)

And lately… the way he looked at you? It wasn’t nothing.

Your friends had noticed. Yelena and Kate didn’t even try to be subtle about it anymore — whispering, elbowing each other, passing actual folded-up notes in class like it was high school.

Peter? Peter was a disaster of a wingman. The kind that loudly mentioned, “Oh yeah, Bucky said you looked really good yesterday,” in the middle of the dining hall line.

On Bucky’s side, Steve and Sam had taken to exchanging the look every time your name came up.

“Barnes, you’re hopeless,” Sam said once, grinning like he’d just caught him doing something illegal.

You weren’t jealous.

Of course you weren’t.

You didn’t do jealousy — it was petty, it was messy, and besides… it wasn’t like Bucky Barnes was yours to be jealous about.

And yet—

You’d been halfway across the quad when you saw him. Standing under the bare winter branches, his hair damp from a morning shower, jacket unzipped just enough to show the hoodie underneath.

And next to him — Natasha Romanoff. She was stunning, obviously. Tall, red hair catching the light, laughing like he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

You didn’t slow down. Didn’t even blink. Just took a sip of your coffee and kept walking like your chest wasn’t twisting up for no reason.

You weren’t jealous. You weren’t.

Then his gaze found you. It was immediate. The second he saw you, his smile changed — softer, warmer, almost private. Natasha said something else, but his eyes didn’t leave yours.

By the time you passed, you’d convinced yourself that funny little ache had been something else. The cold, maybe. Definitely not jealousy.

That night after the game, it happened.

The rink hallway was quieter than usual, echoing with the distant roar of the crowd. You’d been leaning against the wall, waiting for Rebecca, when he appeared.

Still in his gear — chest protector off, but the rest making him look impossibly tall. His hair was damp with sweat, cheeks flushed from the cold, jaw still tense from the last period.

“You came,” he said, voice warm in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Rebecca dragged me,” you replied, smiling despite yourself.

He grinned, stepping closer. “Glad she did.”

Something about the way he said it — low, deliberate — made your pulse trip.

You were suddenly very aware of how close he was. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with the ice rink. The heat rolling off him. The way his eyes flickered between yours and… lower.

It was one of those seconds that felt like an hour.

Neither of you moved at first — just… existing in that fragile, humming space between almost and too much.

You could feel your breath catch, could swear his did too. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.

He leaned in — barely, just enough for the air to shift —

“BUCKY!”

The shout from Steve snapped the moment like a twig.

You stepped back instantly, your laugh coming out a little too fast, too casual. “Guess your ride’s here.”

His smile was small but knowing. “Guess so.”

Later, lying in bed, you told yourself it was better this way. Better to keep whatever this was tucked neatly away.

But you could still feel it — the ghost of what almost happened. And you weren’t sure denial would keep working much longer.

Bucky collapsed onto his bed, freshly showered, towel still clutched loosely around his waist. The warmth of the water hadn’t been able to wash away the thought of you.

The memory of your laugh in the rink hallway was lodged in his chest, twisting tight like a vine he couldn’t pry free. And the way your knee had brushed against his—innocent, accidental, but enough to ignite every nerve ending in his body.

He tried to deny it. No. You can’t. She’s Rebecca’s babysitter. But denial was useless. Absolutely useless.

His head hit the pillow, but sleep didn’t come. His mind replayed the near-kiss over and over, each second more electric than the last.

Finally, exhaustion won, and he drifted.

He didn’t even realize the bed was his dreamscape until he felt your warmth against him. Your hair fell in soft waves, brushing his chest. Your hands tangled in his wet hair, fingers tracing the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“Bucky…” you whispered, but it wasn’t a question, it was a tease, a sound that made his stomach twist. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, memorizing the softness of your skin.

You laughed quietly against his lips, that sound that had haunted him all day, and he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. It was slow, tantalizing, full of restrained fire, like the world had shrunk to only the two of you.

Your hands roamed to his shoulders, then slid down his arms, feeling the warmth and strength beneath. He gripped your waist tighter, drawing you impossibly close. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving soft, desperate kisses along your jaw, your collarbone, the curve where your necklace rested.

Every inch of you was intoxicating, and every small gasp, every soft moan, made his pulse spike. He wanted to memorize every inch of you — not just your body, but the way you breathed, the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled in the middle of a kiss.

You tugged him closer by the back of his neck, and the world melted away. Time didn’t exist. It was just you, him, and the quiet, haunting melody of “False God” playing somewhere in the background:

I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me Honey, hell is when I fight with you

He kissed along your neck again, soft but urgent, trailing down to your collarbone. You pressed into him, sighing, and Bucky felt a rush of heat he couldn’t control. His hands were on your waist, your hips, memorizing every curve, every movement.

You whispered something, but he didn’t hear the words. He only knew the feeling — the ache, the pull, the need. Your body fit perfectly against his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself completely succumb to the desire, the longing, the love he’d been denying.

Every brush of your fingers against his skin was fire. Every soft laugh, every teasing word, was a spark that set him ablaze. He wanted to hold you forever, bury himself in you, and never let go.

Then, impossibly, the dream deepened — his lips found yours again, slow, teasing, then passionate, hungry. Your hands in his hair, his on your waist, his body molding to yours. Every kiss was soft but electric, tender but scorching.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter that it was a dream. He felt you. He felt you like he had never felt anyone before.

When he finally woke, gasping, sweat clinging to his skin, his heart still racing, he realized it didn’t matter if it was real or not. Sweat clung to his skin, heart hammering in his chest. His feelings weren’t a dream. They were raw, undeniable, and unstoppable.

The room was dark. The dorm was quiet. And yet… it all felt too real. Your laugh, your touch, your warmth pressed into him as if you’d never left.

Bucky sank back into his pillow, staring at the ceiling, panting slightly.

I can’t deny it anymore.

The name “you” was on his lips in a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it more real — and maybe terrifyingly, he wanted it to be.

He wasn’t just thinking about you anymore. He needed you.

I’m completely… and utterly… done for, he thought.

It had been days since Bucky’s dream, but the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you? Yeah… that wasn’t fading. Every time he saw you on campus, heard your laugh, or caught a glimpse of you, his chest tightened. But the lines… the damn lines were blurred. Babysitter. His sister. And yet every glance, every small brush of your hand, set his brain on fire.

You weren’t innocent in this either. Stolen glances, subtle touches that lingered a beat too long, the teasing smiles — you both were in deep trouble, but neither of you would admit it.

Then came the thing that knocked your carefully curated denial out of the water. You saw him. With another girl. Not Nat, not anyone you knew — just some girl laughing at something he said, leaning close, his arm brushing hers. You froze, stomach twisting, heart hammering. And the worst part? He didn’t even look your way.

You swore you were not jealous. Absolutely not. Just… irritated. Irritated that you weren’t the one catching his attention. Yelena and Kate noticed the flash of something in your eyes and raised their eyebrows, clearly confused.

Later, you were with Rebecca, “babysitting,” which mostly meant walking her through snacks, doodling on the floor, and exchanging inside jokes. She was jabbering about Bucky, but you weren’t listening — too busy swirling the chocolate milk in your cup and replaying what you saw earlier.

Rebecca, being Rebecca, noticed immediately. Her sly smile appeared, and without saying a word, she texted Bucky: “Get your ass over here. NOW.”

Bucky saw it. He groaned because he had zero plans to come over to his parents’ place, but Rebecca was demanding, and you couldn’t refuse her. He slammed his locker shut after practice, muttering, “Fuck,” and started driving.

You were in the kitchen, expecting the pizza delivery Rebecca had promised, when you opened the door…

And there he was.

Bucky. Standing in the doorway. Hockey bag slung over his shoulder, hair messy, the faint smell of sweat and cologne still lingering. Your stomach did that stupid flip, the one that had been happening every time he was near.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, like he’d been holding it in all day.

You froze. Pizza forgotten. Heart pounding. Somehow, even without the dream, without the near kisses, the closeness in the car rides, he managed to pull all your attention into him.

He stepped inside, glancing around like he half-expected Rebecca to be back any second. “She sent me,” he muttered. “Apparently, I’m needed.”

You tried to play it cool, leaning against the counter, but your hands were shaking. “Yeah… apparently.”

And just like that, all the tension, the teasing, the unspoken feelings, the jealousy — it all hung in the air. Thick. Hot. Impossible to ignore.

Bucky’s gaze found yours, slow, assessing, and for a moment, it felt like he was trying to read every thought in your head. Your heart thudded like it was trying to escape your chest, and Bucky, oh god, Bucky — he looked just as wrecked.

“No pizza,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Just me.”

And you both knew… this was the moment. The moment all the tension, all the denial, all the teasing had been building toward.

And neither of you could ignore it anymore.

You’re still standing in the doorway, trying to keep your cool, when a tiny, bratty voice yells from upstairs:

“I’m not coming downstairs until whatever this is is fixed!”

Rebecca. Of course.

Bucky exhales, the kind of long, annoyed sigh only an older brother could pull off. “Ugh… seriously?” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

You can’t help it—you let out a small laugh, barely more than a breath, but enough to make him glance at you.

Rebecca, true to her word, stays upstairs. And suddenly it’s just the two of you.

The air between you is… electric. Scorching. Hands keep brushing, accidental yet purposeful, and every glance lingers too long. Your heart is racing, your chest tight, and your brain is screaming to do something before you explode.

Without even fully realizing it, you step closer, your hands reaching for him, and—pull him in.

Your lips meet his, and the world seems to vanish.

Bucky freezes for the fraction of a second… then melts. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss deepens, soft but desperate, filled with everything you’ve both been holding back.

And somewhere upstairs, Rebecca screams: “YESSS!”

But the moment is shattered by reality. Bucky’s hand tightens slightly at your waist, then he steps back, his chest heaving, eyes full of torment.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice rough. “We… we can’t. You’re my sister’s babysitter.”

Your chest hurts, but you understand. You nod, and in a small, bittersweet gesture, you kiss his cheek. “I… I have to go. Pizza’s almost here.”

Bucky stands frozen, watching you go. He runs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. The room is quiet, except for Rebecca’s frantic voice from above:

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED DOWN THERE?!”

And just like that, everything’s changed—but neither of you knows how to fix it yet.

The morning after that kiss, Bucky is lying in bed in his dorm, staring at the ceiling. Every detail is etched into his brain—the way your hands felt around his neck, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way your laugh followed you even in his mind.

He runs a hand through his messy, still-wet hair and groans. This is impossible. He’s spiraling, because he knows he’s completely fucked, but also completely done denying it.

And it’s not just him. You’re spiraling too. Every time you see him on campus, your heart rate doubles. You find yourself walking past the café at odd hours, taking different routes to avoid running into him… and yet, somehow, the universe keeps colliding you two.

Rebecca, ever the instigator, finally drops the bomb: “I don’t care that he’s dating my babysitter. I want him too.”

Bucky’s brain immediately combusts. Fuckkkk.

But then reality hits—he sees you and Rebecca didn’t come to his next home game. He notices you avoiding eye contact in the halls, sitting with Yelena, Kate, and Peter, or arriving at the café at totally unpredictable times. Every little absence is a gut punch. He knows he has to make it right. He can’t let you think he doesn’t care… he just doesn’t know how to fix this without overstepping.

Meanwhile, everyone else has noticed. Steve and Sam are watching him like hawks.

“You’re spiraling, man. Just shoot your shot,” Steve says casually, arms crossed, smirking.

“Dude… you can’t, you can’t…” Bucky protests, but Sam just clowns him with a grin: “Oh, you can, Buck. You just need a plan.”

Bucky glares but knows they’re right. He’s been hiding behind “I can’t” for far too long. The teasing, the stolen glances, the brush of hands, the words unsaid… it’s all building, and something’s gotta give.

So he starts planning. Not a grand gesture yet, but little things. A coffee you like when he knows you’re coming. A way to “accidentally” run into you between classes. A message, carefully crafted, to remind you he still cares.

The tension is unbearable, but for the first time, Bucky is ready to fight for it.

And you? You’re feeling the pull too. Confused, flustered, heart racing… wondering why he can make you feel like the universe is spinning faster just by looking at you.

The stage is set. The tension is thick. And both of you are dangerously close to losing control entirely.

Bucky had tried. He really had.

Messages left unread, small gestures unnoticed, little notes that never got through… it was driving him insane. The more he tried, the more it felt like he was invisible. And that frustration? It turned into a spark of defiance.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath after practice, hair still damp from a quick shower in the locker room, hoodie half-draped over his sweats, low enough that you could see the way he moved with the effortless strength you’d been noticing for weeks.

He drove straight to his parents’ house. And when he pulled up, he realized—you were there. With Rebecca. He hadn’t expected it, and the sudden surprise only made his heart beat faster. Rebecca had tipped you off, grinning slyly before slipping away to her room, leaving you two alone.

Bucky didn’t wait. He stepped forward, all confidence and nerves bundled into a single surge.

“I… I like you,” he blurted out, words tumbling fast, breath still catching from practice. “I like you too much. And I—” he ran a hand through his wet hair, hoodie sleeves brushing his knuckles, “I’ve been an idiot, hiding behind the whole… you’re my sister’s babysitter thing. But I can’t anymore. I’m sorry. Just… one more chance. I swear I won’t fuck it up.”

Your heart was racing, thudding so loudly it almost drowned out his words. You’d liked him, sure—but hearing him admit everything, seeing him standing there, flushed from exertion and emotion, your chest tightened.

You didn’t hesitate. You leaned forward, brushing your lips softly against his. Just a kiss—but it was everything. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and he melted into it like he’d been holding his breath for years.

Then, just as the world narrowed to the two of you, Rebecca burst in.

“FINALLY!” she yelled, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling like mischief incarnate.

You and Bucky froze for a second, hands still intertwined, lips parting, cheeks flushed like fire. And then, you laughed softly, eyes on each other, hearts synced in a way neither of you could deny.

Bucky’s grin was sheepish, shy—but triumphant. And you? You knew nothing was ever going to be the same again.

It was late—well past the hours you were supposed to be watching Rebecca—and the air was quiet in that soft, spring-night way, where even the wind seemed to hush.

Bucky insisted on walking you to your car. “It’s dark,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The streetlight above spilled golden light over you, painting your skin in warm tones that made his chest ache. You were talking—something about Rebecca’s homework, or maybe about Kate and Yelena’s latest chaos—but he wasn’t really hearing the words.

Half of him was listening. The other half? Was locked on the way your lips moved, the curve of your smile, the way your lashes caught the light when you glanced up at him.

His hand settled naturally at your waist, warm and steady. His other hand found yours, fingers threading together with ease like it had always been meant to happen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked suddenly.

You stopped mid-sentence, eyes lifting to meet his. Your lashes dipped, your voice soft but certain: “Yes… you can.”

He didn’t hesitate.

The kiss started soft, careful, like he was testing the edges of something sacred. But then your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a low groan from him—and that was all it took for the restraint to shatter.

Bucky kissed you deeper, hungrier, like he’d been waiting far too long for this exact moment. He pressed you gently but firmly against your car door, the metal cool against your back, his body warm and solid in front of you.

He chased your lips like a man starved, each kiss melting into the next. One of his hands stayed tangled in yours, the other firm at your waist, pulling you closer.

By the time you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing like you’d run a marathon. His forehead rested against yours, and there was that smile—the one that looked like it belonged to you now.

And you knew, without a doubt, that Bucky Barnes was a damn good kisser.

The next morning was supposed to be ordinary.

It wasn’t.

You’d woken up with the taste of his kiss still lingering, like some beautiful secret you couldn’t wash away. The way his hands had held you—firm, certain, like he knew exactly where you belonged—was imprinted in your skin.

Every time you caught yourself smiling, you’d scold yourself. But it didn’t work. He was everywhere—in the way your lips still tingled, in the way your chest tightened when you remembered how good he’d felt pressed against you.

Bucky was no better.

Practice felt like a blur. He kept zoning out—stick idle in his hand, eyes unfocused—because all he could see was you. The way the light had caught in your hair, the little hitch in your breath when he’d leaned in, the way your fingers had tugged at his hair like you’d known exactly what that would do to him.

And the lyrics kept looping in his head, uninvited but relentless:

Religion’s in your lips. Even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship.

He thought about that dream—the one where you’d been on his lap, where your hands had been in his hair and your laugh had been soft against his mouth. And now, after last night, it wasn’t just a dream. It was real. You were real.

It was terrifying.

It was addicting.

He caught himself in the locker room mirror, wet hair dripping into his eyes, and muttered under his breath, “I’m so fucked.”

The tension between you didn’t ease. If anything, it tightened, humming in the air like a live wire.

A glance across the café when you both happened to be there. The brush of his hand against yours when you passed by him in the hallway. That almost-smile when he caught your gaze before quickly looking away.

Every small touch, every lingering look—it was worship in its own way. Quiet. Dangerous. Consuming.

And neither of you wanted it to stop.

It happened in the middle of a Tuesday.

You were with Yelena and Kate, tucked into the corner of the student lounge while Peter was off at the vending machine, swearing he’d return with snacks.

Across the room, Bucky was with Sam, Steve, and Nat. He wasn’t even pretending to listen to their conversation. His eyes kept flicking to you—like he was starving and you were the only thing in the room worth looking at.

It was torture. It was magnetic.

You were leaning back against the wall, earbuds in, lost in whatever playlist had gotten you through the day. The world around you was noise—until you felt it.

The shift. That pull.

When you looked up, he was already moving. Bucky Barnes—hair a little messy, jaw tight like he was fighting something inside himself—cutting through the crowd like there was no one else in the room.

Sam was saying something. Steve glanced over like he knew. Nat’s smirk was too knowing.

And then his hand was on your wrist. Warm. Firm. Not asking, but not rough. Just—needing.

“Hey—” you started, but he was already steering you toward the quiet, down a side hallway most people forgot existed.

The air back here was different. Close. Private.

You laughed under your breath, half in disbelief. “Is this your idea of romance, Barnes?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, slow and lazy, but there was a storm in his eyes. “Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever you fancy.”

He noticed the cord dangling from your hoodie, brushing his knuckles against it before tugging gently. “What’re you listening to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but he didn’t wait. He leaned in, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath, and slipped one earbud into his ear.

Taylor’s voice spilled into the space between you.

But we can patch it up good, make confession And we're begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you…

He stilled. Like the song meant something to him before you even knew it existed. Like now it would mean even more.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. And that was it.

The kiss started soft—careful, almost reverent—but it built in seconds. Like every moment you’d both held back had been loaded into this one, waiting to go off.

His lips moved with yours in a rhythm that felt dangerous and safe at the same time. Your fingers found the collar of his hoodie, tugging him closer until your chest brushed his.

That small tug on his hair made him groan—a low, quiet sound that made your knees feel unreliable.

Bucky deepened the kiss like he’d been starved for you. Like he wasn’t sure when he’d get to taste you again, so he was making every second count.

One of his hands stayed on your hip, thumb brushing over the fabric of your hoodie like he was memorizing it. The other found its way to the small of your back, pulling you just enough that your bodies fit together.

You could feel his smile against your lips, feel the way he lingered like he didn’t want to stop, like maybe stopping was going to physically hurt him.

When he finally did, it wasn’t to let go. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, eyes still closed, breath uneven.

You teased—soft, but unable to help yourself. “You always steal girls into empty hallways to kiss them?”

He let out a quiet laugh, but instead of answering, he tucked his face into the curve of your neck, his stubble brushing your skin. The sound of his chuckle was low, warm, and it sank into your bones like something you’d crave forever.

You’re the West Village You still do it for me, babe…

In that hallway, it didn’t matter if anyone else knew. The only thing that existed was the feel of his hands on you, the taste of his lips, and the knowledge that you’d both just crossed a line you’d never want to go back from.

–

You should’ve known something was up the second you saw Bucky’s beat-up car in the driveway when you pulled in. It wasn’t a holiday. It wasn’t a family dinner night. And judging by the fact that he was leaning against the counter with a smug little smirk when you walked in, this wasn’t a coincidence.

Rebecca noticed too. “Seriously?” she deadpanned. “What are you even doing here?”

Bucky just shrugged, that casual, oh-I’m-innocent act that fooled no one. “What, I can’t visit my kid sister?”

“You never visit me,” she shot back, arms crossed. “You only show up when she’s here.”

You felt heat climb up your neck, but before you could say anything, Bucky pressed a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “Wow. Rude. You think I’m here for the babysitter?”

Rebecca didn’t even blink. “You are here for the babysitter.”

“Maybe I just missed Mom’s cooking,” he tried again.

“She’s at work,” Rebecca deadpanned.

You had to bite back a laugh. “I’m just gonna… start on dinner.”

You didn’t make it three steps before Bucky’s arm hooked around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Nope,” he said, voice low in your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Bucky…” you warned, but you could hear the smile in your own voice.

“Rebecca’s old enough to take care of herself,” he said.

“I’m thirteen!” Rebecca shouted from the couch.

“Exactly,” Bucky said, not missing a beat. “Practically grown.”

Rebecca groaned, flopping back dramatically. “I miss when my babysitter wasn’t my brother’s girlfriend.”

“We’re not—” you started, but Bucky cut in with, “You heard her. Girlfriend.”

You elbowed him lightly, but he just laughed, tightening his hold on you like you were the only anchor he needed in the room.

The rest of the night was hopeless. Every time you tried to move—whether it was to get Rebecca a snack or grab something from your bag—Bucky was there, finding some excuse to keep you close. Sitting beside you on the couch, his arm draped over the backrest until it found your shoulders. Following you into the kitchen under the guise of “helping” but really just leaning against the counter and watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the world.

Rebecca groaned through all of it. You laughed through all of it. And Bucky? He just looked like a man who had no intention of letting you out of his sight.

The kitchen was warm, the soft simmer of pasta sauce filling the air while you tried—emphasis on tried—to focus on cooking.

Bucky, fresh from God knows where, was leaning against the counter like he owned the place. His hair was still slightly damp, his hoodie sleeves pushed up in that effortlessly dangerous way, and his eyes? Yeah, they weren’t on the sauce.

You were mid–stir when you felt his hands on your waist. “Bucky…” you warned without looking up.

“What?” he said, voice dripping with fake innocence. “Can’t I make sure the chef’s doing okay?”

“You mean check on me,” you corrected.

“Mmm,” he hummed, dipping down before you could even move, stealing a kiss despite your tomato-covered hands. His lips lingered, soft but smug, like he’d been waiting all day for that moment.

And then— “OH MY GOD, GET OFF MY BABYSITTER!”

Rebecca. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed like she was about to shut down illegal activity.

Bucky didn’t move an inch. “No.”

“Yes,” she shot back.

“No,” he repeated, pulling you closer like you were about to be wrestled away from him.

“Yes—”

And just like that, it was on.

Rebecca stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “Remember when I texted you to come over because she was upset? When I played wingwoman for your sorry ass?”

Bucky scoffed, one arm still locked around you. “Oh, you mean after I suggested to Mom and Dad that they get a babysitter in the first place?”

Rebecca gasped, pointing at him like she’d been betrayed. “You’re acting like you invented her!”

“I’m saying,” he began, holding his chin high like this was a courtroom battle, “that if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have the best babysitter in the state—”

“—That YOU’RE trying to steal!” she interrupted.

“It’s called sharing, Becca. Look it up.”

At that point, you sighed, sliding out of his arms for just long enough to hand Rebecca a lollipop from the jar. Then you turned, reached up, and kissed Bucky’s cheek.

Silence. Rebecca froze mid-rebuttal. Bucky melted instantly, a dumb grin taking over his face.

You went back to the stove like nothing happened, but Rebecca wasn’t done. “You better ask her out soon or I will,” she threatened.

“Oh, don’t worry, Becca,” Bucky said with a smirk only a Barnes could pull off. “I have plans.”

And by plans, he meant the secret notepad on his phone filled with ideas for dates—late-night drives, bookstores, that little pier by the lake.. Because Bucky Barnes, hopeless and clingy and lovesick, and honor-bound in battle against his little sister, was yours.

Your hopeless, loving loser.

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA!!

Bucky sat hunched over the booth table, phone in hand, jaw clenched in deep concentration. Across from him, Steve, Sam, and Nat sipped their coffees, watching like he was diffusing a bomb.

“Okay,” Bucky finally said, scrolling. “Hear me out—Option One: sunrise at the pier. Coffee from that place she loves, fresh croissants, maybe a blanket because mornings are still cold.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “That’s… shockingly thoughtful.”

“Shockingly?” Bucky shot her a look. “What, you think I’m some animal?”

“Yes,” Sam said without missing a beat.

Bucky ignored him. “Option Two: bookstore date. She told me once she likes that cozy one downtown. We could grab books for each other, then get lunch at the café next door.”

Steve smiled faintly, clearly impressed. “That’s actually—”

“Option Three!” Bucky cut in, eyes lighting up. “Rooftop movie night. I’d set it up at my place, get fairy lights, a projector, popcorn, and…” He scrolled. “Her favorite candy. Even the weird ones nobody else likes.”

Nat was staring now. “Are you… keeping a list?”

“Yes,” Bucky said like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Title: ‘Operation First Date — Don’t Screw It Up.’”

Sam leaned over the table, peeking at his phone. “Barnes, this is like… twenty-seven ideas. You got horseback riding on here? A pottery class? A road trip to the coast?”

“She mentioned she’s never seen the lighthouse,” Bucky said defensively.

Steve leaned back, arms crossed, grinning. “You’re gone for her, man.”

Bucky just shrugged, scrolling to yet another idea. “I just… want it to be perfect, y’know? I’ve liked her for so long, I’m not screwing this up.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Sam snorted. “You’ve got it bad. Like, Conrad Fisher in season two bad.”

Bucky frowned. “Who the hell is Conrad Fisher?”

Nat smirked. “Don’t worry. Just… pick the date where you can’t chicken out.”

Bucky stared down at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I think I know which one.”

(You've got mail!) BUT WE COULD PATCH IT UP GOOD. This is was SO SO SO SOOOO SOLEY BASED OFF THE NEW TSITP EPISODE TEAM BONRAD. WE RIDE AT DAWN. FUCK JELLY!!! And also the fact this song played in the background was everything BUT THAT WASNT THE REASON WHYY I CHOSE IT, the real reason….was because it was based off a Edward Cullen edit. BUT YESSS I’m lowkey giggly over this!!! And YES I 100000% BELIEVE BUCKY IS LIKE A CONRAD. 100000000000000%. Here’s the TikTok link tho LOLLL

Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open)

@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets @winchestert101 @totallyanxiousart @lovinqbella @starstruckfirecat @beestarsuck @peanutbutt3rcup @piatosniathenie @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @star-yawnznn @the-salty-asian

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you

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lizardho · 20 days ago

Text

BYU Roommate Part 1

I had a weird experience with Roommates at BYU. My first roommate left overnight one night and about a decade later I found out it was because they left the church and later came out as an enby. Honestly, kinda slay, and it made sense that we got along as good as we did, and I missed them like crazy when they left because my new roommate was a guy who came home from his mission early due to some kind of mental health episode and he acted like I and everyone else was judging him and seeing him as worthless because he came home and I literally didn’t care and actually kinda liked hearing him talk about it because it helped me feel like I could bail if it ever got too weird (which was technically true, but literally false, in the sense that the mission took my passport day 1 so I couldn’t go home without their permission.)

I left, I did my mission, shit was gross and bad and I had a mental health crisis, yadda yadda y’all already know. At the very tip of that mental health crisis iceberg, though, there was the first day back in Provo. I got an apartment that was DIRT cheap - $250/month rent, but I had 3 people living in the apartment with me, including one in my room. Adding to that, the apartment had no lightning except for two lights in the kitchen (and because it was a ’dude’ apartment nobody had a single fucking lamp except the one my roommate’s gf got them). So it was dark. It had carpet that hadn’t been cleaned since Nixon was president, it had mildew, there was one vacuum cleaner in the entire apartment complex and not enough room to store a personal one because the apartment was about the size of fruit fly’s urethra, so everything was dusty as hell.

To add to that – there was one bathroom for four people, and the bathroom was so small I could touch both of the far walls without having to stretch. Additionally, the apartment’s other bedroom was occupied by two people, whom I will refer to as Captain Mormon and The Human Jellyfish, for reasons that will become obvious later. I also had a cool roommate who I got along with because he left me alone, he didn’t make eye contact when talking to me, and his gf was nice and talked to me.

For simplicity’s sake I’ll start with The Human jellyfish. The Human Jellyfish has no spine. He has no opinion unless someone else tells him to have one, and even then they also have to tell him what the opinion should be. He has no hobbies except for work and school. He has no friends except for coworkers.

He wasn’t bad, he was really kind and really helpful, but he was not the person you’d go to if you, say, needed someone to take charge.

Well, one day, his coworker, a smart but shy woman who teaches Japanese classes at the MTC, knocks on the door. She asks if she can talk to The Human Jellyfish and I holler at him to come down. He says he’ll be down in a minute so I tell her she can come in in the meantime. She steps in and I see she’s wringing her hands and keeps checking down the hallway, so I ask if something is up.

She asks if I know a guy named Stalker, and I do, because he is my stalker. He was a 28-year-old man who followed me home after work one day and then moved into my apartment complex and then sat outside my apartment once or twice a week waiting to tell me about how much ketamine he owned and how many people he killed in Iraq, so I was VERY well acquainted with Stalker. So I say I do know Stalker, and she says, “Well, I think Stalker’s hurt? He just stumbled into my apartment and when I came down to see what the noise was he fell down and told me he was going into shock.”

First of all, god bless this innocent innocent woman, too innocent to know that she was actively being robbed by a man with a ketamine problem and a history of violence. Second of all, I immediately realized that she did not need a human jellyfish, she needed someone who could be mean, and I could not only be mean but I also NEEDED a win against Stalker because he had been giving me the willies for months. So I said “Yeah, let’s wait for The Human Jellyfish to come down and I’ll go over with both of you.”

She stopped wringing her hands and looked a lot more relieved as me and Jellyboy walked with her to her apartment, where my stalker was lying on the floor of a ransacked living room moaning in pain. He said he had stubbed his foot and was going into shock (I’m not kidding). He sees two people are now with her and sees that at least one of them is a man and immediately says “If Jellyfish can help me back to my apartment I can treat myself for the shock and I’ll be OK,” and Jellyfish is ALL over that because someone just told him to do something and he loves knowing what to do, so he starts moving towards him to help him up when I chime in.

“No you can’t.”

The room goes quiet.

“What do you mean? I can’t what?” Stalker is mad, but he’s also scared

“You can’t treat your own shock. Jellyfish, he’s delusional from the pain, he needs medical attention. Can you prop up his feet and keep him lying down?”

Jellyfish is confused for a fraction of a second while he computes his new orders, but then dutifully follows them. Stalker is scared now, because he knows Jellyfish is listening to me but he DOESN’T know that Jellyfish has no ability to make decisions and can be counteracted by just giving him a new command, so he thinks he’s outnumbered.

Finally, he says “No, wait, I think I’m feeling better now, I can just get up and go,” and I say “Well that proves it! Jellyfish, push him down, he’s out of it, he’s not gonna make it much longer without medical help,” so Jellyfish pushes my stalker down and then looks back at me for approval, so I give him a thumbs up and tell him he’s disoriented from the pain so his job is just to keep him prone until the ambulance arrives. Then I make direct eye contact with Stalker and call the ambulance.

Stalker panics and starts to try and wriggle free, but Jellyfish has now received the honor of a thumbs up for following directions so he is having none of it. Every time he pushes Stalker back down I give him another thumbs up so I’ve got Jellyfish hooked for life. The 9-1-1 operator takes this as seriously as it deserves, and the ambulance arrives in Go Mode within 5 minutes. I go outside to show them the way in and they are working like a well-oiled machine RIGHT UP until they lock eyes with Stalker and the vibe immediately changes.

I see Stalker’s eyes go dark as he realizes he’s caught, and the paramedic drops his voice from ‘giving orders’ mode into ‘Awwh poor widdle baby” and says “Hey Stalker, long time no see, yeah? Do you need the stretcher, or can you walk to the ambulance by yourself?” And after the slowest, shakiest breath I have ever heard this man make, he chokes out “I think I can walk,” and the paramedic goes “What a champ! Come on guys, let’s head back, this’ll be a quick drive.”

And just like that, it was over. I let Jellyfish talk to building management and I walked back to my apartment. The next day my Stalker moved out of the apartment and into a different one across town, and I only ever saw him again in the parking lot of the place I played D&D after that (Stalkers gonna stalk I guess?) but it also was like such a good experience with that guy and NGL I still think of Jellyman in high regard for that.

#tgirl swag #mormon #ex mormon #exmormon #trans pride #trans stuff #gay #lds church #tumblrstake #byu #stalker #tw stalking #TW theft #tw drugs

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thelunaticself · 2 months ago

Text

MY BABY, MY BABY

simon riley x reader

said it was your problem. turns out he cares a lot.

🧸ྀི request: Helloo!! I think i’ve seen your requests are open, if not just ignore me sorry! But i was wondering if you could write maybe something like, Popular/bully??!Simon x Weirdo/whimsical!reader? Like in high school or college, i think it’d be so cute!! 🐞

╰┈➤ request open !

cw: fem!reader, highschool love, fluff, bad english lol

“Simon, stop touching my elbow.”

“Not my problem.”

You wonder if you really are a masochist. Maybe Anna from chem class was right to say that. After all, who would speed through a week’s worth of assignment in two days and trick the Simon Riley into doing gardening. Some big problems you have here.

It has been an excruciating one hour since math class started and you’re not sure if you can walk out of class without having to amputate your right leg. Fucking Simon Riley. Sometimes you are amazed at the fact that you two belong to the same species with how unapologetically big he is. And he likes to remind you about that very much. His thighs are not even spread out at full length and you only have the tiniest of space left to sneak your legs in under the school table. Shoulders so wide that they brush up right against you and he’s not shy about it either. Too comfortable. One arm lazily drapes on the back of your chair while his unfocused gaze is either on you or the window, never up front where all the materials are written. But that is one thing you won’t judge. You don’t find any silver of joy in this too.

The bell rings just in time for you to realize he has used up your only eraser pen. Shaking it violently in one hand, a scowl quickly appears on your face as you speak:

“This is the THIRD one this week, Riley!”

“Your fault for just putting it there. And you didn’t say anything.”

“You should have asked! And just so you know, I’d say no. Now go and buy me another one!”

“Never shut up, do ya?”

With a heavy sigh, Simon pushes himself to stand up like a martyr and promptly heads out of class to the school canteen. You begin to prepare for the next lesson too. Piling books and notes into their rightful place back into the bag. Yours and his. He never asks or forces you to do any of it. It just feels right.

Your rhythmic routine got interrupted by the sounds of many footsteps headed towards your table.

“Tell me what did you do to him, fucking slut.”

“Get the fuck off my table, Anna.”

“Don’t act dumb. I know you let him fuck you routinely because there is no way he would hang around a bitch with a body that my grandma had ten days before she died.”

Letting out a sigh just like Simon earlier, you put the book on the table with unnecessary force.

“Maybe he would if you stop harassing him online and acting like him breaking off with you over you sucking a random guy that you accidentally invited to your grandma’s funeral is unreasonable.”

Anna was about to say something when she noticed Simon came back and quietly mouthed to you: “Tell him to text me.”. You only roll your eyes.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Someone could cut off four of your limbs right now and you would thank them. Everything feels numb and sore when you dig, plant and water for 3 hours non-stop, not to mention all the cleaning that follows. This hard work is proof of your unhonorable title - Leader of Garden Club. If you could call two people a club that is.

Simon doesn’t seem to be too affected. He is more annoyed than tired. As usual.

“ ‘M goin’ for a smoke. Don’t follow me or you’ll end up coughing like last time.”

The only response he gets is a glare coming from you sitting on the ground, dirt all over and legs sprawl out to accommodate the aching numbness. You swear you hear him let out a small laugh under his breath before finally wanders off downstairs. You banned him from smoking in the garden last time.

This fucking garden.

It wasn’t supposed to be your problem. It was just a promised close-to-nature place printed in the ridiculously green leaflet the previous Garden Club leader waved excitedly in your face. Too bad she’s off to do whatever better things to witness what the garden of Eden has been reduced to. The club was already failing and the realization hit too little too late when she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, the graduation hat threatened to slip off her messy hair and promoted you to club leader with a warm smile. Now it is your job to find the next victim.

The nearby church bell chiming reminds you of how late it has gotten. After locking the door firmly, you descend down from the school rooftop to find Simon leaning against the dilapidated wall, a cigarette held in place by two lazy fingers.

“You hungry?”

“What?”

“Fuckin’ hell, woman.”

“Shhh, just get my order right.”

He has been repeating your order for almost five minutes. I didn’t say anything about getting pickles. No Simon, absolutely no tomatoes. Bend down more I can’t reach your ear-

You hand your cash to Simon and go off to secure a spot. In the corner, full AC, road view? Perfect.

He arrived with a tray not long afterwards. After that, strictly chewing and silence.

Dropping you off in front of your porch in a dimly lit street, Simon hands over your school bag that was previously nested in the front of his motorcycle that he is definitely not old enough to drive. Still, he wears it with pride.

“Don’t forget to do my homework.”

Right. You never forget your end of the deal. You also never forget the sight of the cash that you thought you handed him earlier, are now lying unceremoniously and crumbled on top of your books in your school bag, like someone hastily shoved them back in.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

It was almost midnight when you received a text from him.

“You up?”

This is odd to say the least. Texts from him are as rare as the full moon. Thumb pressed against the message notification, you fight over in your head as to whether or not you should reply. Must be something important, maybe a last minute assignment.

“Why?”

“Wanna go out for a drink?”

“SIMON NO. WE’RE UNDERAGE.”

“Your problem.”

His headlight illuminates the stairs leading down from the front porch. You clutch your coat tighter when you step out of the comfort of your home and out into the chilling air of a freshly rained Saturday night. It’s odd not seeing him in his usual school outfit. That part of him was meant to be at school and at school only. Now it has extended its roots to different aspects of your life. Like sneaking out when your dad is on a business trip and your mom passed out drunk on the couch to go drinking illegally with your classmate.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

You feel nauseous. Maybe in a good way. Whatever that feeling is, it quickly drops to the pit of your stomach only to make the tingling warmth spread across your cheeks, straight to your beating heart. His large arm slides back onto your shoulder for the tenth time tonight (yes you counted), hand finds your arm and squeezes the flesh there. You wonder if he was prepping you up for this by draping his arm on the back of your chair back at school. You are silent throughout the whole ordeal. Eyes fixed on the juice glass on your thighs, your fingers clench tightly around the rim.

The juice glass is the consequence of your second light cocktail making your fingers so shaky that Simon had to snatch it away from you and ordered fucking juice in a bar. A puff of smoke hits (you’re not sure from who) your nostrils resulting in a coughing fit that earns a few chuckles from his friends. A pat on your cheek reassuringly.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Later on, you find out today is his birthday. A crumbled recruitment paper with his date of birth written in that brash handwriting you can easily recognize. Sneaky little thing lays on the floor, next to his bed and lands right in your sight. The room is too dark for you to read the rest. A heavy thud, then a yank on your back - his shirt, making your back collide with Simon’s warm chest. He has just finished washing your dress in the bathroom where you threw up previously. He plans to put the dainty thing in the washing machine and give it back to you all folded nicely. But for now, he needs a good sleep. Simon reaches down to squeeze the supple flesh of your thigh. Content.

⌯⌲ buy me a coffee?

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fatkish · 1 year ago

Note

hello!!!

I was wondering if you could do a dadzawa x student! Reader who starves themselves and says they’re not hungry because they don’t really feel hungry at all if you get what I mean(s3 ep42)

So basically they js head off to bed once they get to the camp instead of eating and stuff and he’s concerned for their well being and yeahh. Sorry I’m not a really good explainer but I’d really appreciate it if you do this request it would mean a lot to me considering I am a person who sometimes unintentionally starves themselves

Anyways I hope you have a good rest of your day/night, and thank you once again!!

I totally get this. Due to my middle school experience, I went from having breakfast at around 7:00-7:30 am with lunch at around 11:00 am to breakfast at 6:30 am an lunch at 1:00 pm. This was horrible for me because I would sit in class with my stomach growling before lunch. It made me develop horrible eating habits, so I get it. Anyways, onto the story.

Aizawa x Student Reader (Platonic): Eating Habits

You and your class had just walked out of the forest after having spent hours making your way to the campsite, dodging and fighting Pixie-Bob’s earth monsters

Despite all this, you still weren’t hungry, you didn’t plan on eating and were planning to just take a bath and go to sleep

When Aizawa told you guys to grab your bags off the bus and put them away before heading to dinner, you grabbed your bag with everyone else and headed inside

You went into your shared room and set your bag down in your spot. You began to unpack, rolling out your bedding, getting it all made up

As everyone left to go eat, you decided to clean up and take a shower to get rid of the dirt from the day

Aizawa has always been observant, so he definitely had noticed how you rarely went to lunch to eat, you’d either nap, play games, or do your own thing in the classroom

There had been times he’d seen you eating your homemade lunch in the classroom away from others, so he assumed that you had an issue with eating around other people

When he didn’t see you eating among his other students, he assumed you were too shy to get food or perhaps too tired

So he went to find you and make sure you got food in you

When he found you and told you where the cafeteria was and to go eat, he was surprised and concerned to hear that you didn’t plan on eating and planned instead to take a bath and go to bed

Aizawa wasn’t so keen on this plan of yours

He asked you why, to which you replied that you weren’t hungry. He told you that that’s not good enough of a reason

He then gave you a lecture about how the body needs food especially with the training you’re going to be doing

He thinks that there may be more to this and hopes that the reader doesn’t have some kind of eating disorder

He decides to go get the reader a small plate of food and bring it to them

Once he does, he tells them that he wants to see them eat what’s on the plate and then he’ll let them sleep after that

Aizawa isn’t one to budge from this so you eat the food. Upon seeing you slightly struggle he decides to sit down and try to talk to you

As you talk to him, he asks if there’s a reason why you have a hard time eating

You tell him you’re just not hungry

He asks if you’re bulimic or anorexic or have some kind of underlying issue that has caused this

Seeing where his thoughts were going you quickly and throughly reassured him that you just have a hard time eating when you aren’t hungry

Throughout the camp, Aizawa makes sure to keep an eye on you and lets you take a break to eat whenever you do get hungry

He may be strict, but his number one priority is to make sure his students are taken care of

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #dadzawa #Aizawa x reader platonic

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silassinclair · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #x reader #yandere oc #obsession #viktor markov #oc x reader #fem reader

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bongbongbangi · 3 months ago

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YELENA BELOVA’s birthday with the THUNDERBOLTS headcannons .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎

(or the new avengerz)

all photos are from Pinterest !!

i wrote this during class 😀😀

before Yelena joined the thunderbolts, she spent her most of her birthdays probably drinking

might get herself a cupcake and then call Natasha ☹️

BUT THEN SHE JOINED THE THUNDERBOLTSSSSSSSS

Ava, bob and Alexei wanted to do something special

Alexei seems like the type of guy to go all out on birthdays

he decroated the entire living room with balloons and banners

[ BEST GOALIE OF THE WEST CHESAPEAKE VALLEY THUNDERBOLTS]

he stormed into her room singing at 7am with breakfast he made in hand

“LENA ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY WHY ARE YOU STILL IN BED”

“dad im gonna kill you”

the breakfast was ok tho, not the most delicious but it’s the thought that counts

Yelena couldn’t stop smiling the entire time (awhhhshdhhsshsjsj 🥺🥺🥺)

yes this was in fact another time Alexei set three towels on fire

Ava had the idea of surprising her with everyone wearing Yelena’s signature eyeliner

Bob and Alexei thought it was a great idea

John and Bucky were harder to convince tho

I think Bucky would agree to it if they beg long enough

would still sigh and grunt the entire time (possibly add an eye roll in there)

no but like imagine applying eyeliner on Bucky while sitting on his lap and his arms are wrapped around your waist with his greyish blue eyes looking into yours and he’s slightly smirking up at you-

ANYWAYS 😁😁😁😁 (I volunteer as tribute 🙋‍♀️)

Ava ended up applying it on John while he was taking a nap on the couch, newspaper on his lap and everything

she may or may not have also drawn a cartoon penis on his cheek

and possibly cat whiskers as well

midday however they got called on a mission

this was when thunderbolts started trending on twitter for looking like they either just walked out of an Avril Lavigne music video or haven’t slept in 4 months

YELENA LOVED IT THO(that’s the only important part)

everyone knows yelena loves mac’n cheese

John had an idea to make a Mac’n cheese cake with bob’s help (cuz i firmly believe that bob can cook amazing Mac’n cheese 🤞)

Bob kept telling him it won’t work

but of course John wouldn’t listen

“walker it’s just gonna come out like sludge”

“no bobby you gotta trust me if you bake it it’ll come together i swear”

it came out like Mac’n cheese pie

but the kitchen smelled like Yelena’s heaven

which she greatly, greatly appreciated

“what is thiss😋” AND HER LIL YELENA SMILE AWHHHH

they did end up getting her an actual cake tho

a confetti cake 🥰

however the best part of her birthday didn’t come until later

Yelena was told they had another mission

but when Bob came on the jet too she was like 🤨

“why are you coming with us Bob 🤨”

“well i uh-“ “emotional support😁”- ava

guess where they went

OHIO BECAUSE THATS WHERE THE WEST CHESAPEAKE VALLEY THUNDERBOLTS TRAINEDDD

there were already kids playing there

but they new avengerz being the cheeky lil bitches they are joined 🥰

they totally cheated btw

some kids were on Bucky and John’s back screaming

Alexei was yelling out instructions but no one listened 😔

“NO BOB MY LEFT NOT YOUR LEFT”

Bob was trying his best ok ☹️ we love you for that Bob <3

ava started phasing around to scare the kids

it actually worked and some kid ended up crying

and Yelena was on the ground cackling the entire time

when they went back to the tower they were covered in dirt and mud

convinced that Yelena drew a happy face on John’s back with the mud and everyone was laughing while John’s all like “what are you guys laughing about 🤨😔”

damn idk why people keep drawing things on John in this post

that night when it was time to cut the cake

and everyone was singing happy birthday

John was trying to sing in tune , Bucky looked so done (but he was enjoyed the moment :), Bob was singing along shyly, Ava was clapping while singing and Alexei was the loudest one

after they finished alexei threw yelena up in his air and did the cliche “MY BABY DAUGHTERS ALL GROWN UP☹️🥺”

before they went to bed Alexei told stories of Yelena’s childhood

stuff like her at football training and lil moments with Nat 🥰

she was constantly trying to stop him but the others were laughing so hard

Bob actually fell off his chair

“I didn’t expect you were the type to actually throw a rock at the other teams coach”-walker

“I WAS LIKE 5”

and when yelena went to bed that night

even though she was exhausted and slightly annoyed,

she finally felt like she was home

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thecowboyfiles · 2 months ago

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Give Me Grace - Ch. 2

.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃽 .°˖⋆

tags: Rhett Abbott x transmasc oc. Talk of religion, struggle with faith and coming to terms with sexuality. author's note: I know OCs aren't popular around here, but I put my whole heart into this, so please just give it a chance ❤️ Short update this week, was supposed to be longer but as you all know this week was a hard and busy one. Updates every Friday. | Check out my kofi

“So what kinda man has got you all stirred up again?”

Perry’s voice pulls Rhett out of one of his worst memories. “What?” He asks, there’s blood in his mouth, he’s ripped open the inside of his cheek yet again.

“Well, don’t tell me it’s that same boy from your class, just all grown up,” Perry chuckles. They’ve both abandoned the fence now, but Perry is still crouching down to pick up the hammer, looking up at his younger brother.

Rhett didn’t expect this reaction at all. After that memory hit him like a truck, he braced himself for another angry growl, and Perry forcing him to push it all back down like the first time. His tongue pushes into the new hole in his cheek, and he frowns. “It’s no one from Wabang if that’s what you’re askin’.” There’s a pause, and Perry has turned back to inspect the post, making sure it’s straight and sturdy before he takes the hammer and pushes his chin out, gesturing with his head to direct Rhett to the next post a little further down.

They walk. Rhett is still worrying his injured cheek with his tongue, and Perry doesn't ask any more questions. “I met someone on the rodeo circuit,” he says once they are standing in front of the next green post. He doesn’t know why he’s still talking, Perry doesn’t really want to know, and Rhett doesn’t really want to tell him, but some part of him must be hoping that his big brother can do something to fix it for him, make it go away. Make him good again.

“Well, good,” Perry nods with a smile.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. Once the season is over, you can forget all about this guy, and everything will go back to normal.”

Rhett doesn’t say anything else, only grabs the hammer from Perry, and they switch positions with no words, taking out his frustrations on the post in front of them. Despite what Perry thinks, he’s not thirteen anymore, and this is not going to go away. Even as drunk as he was, he could never forget the boy he kissed in a horse trailer after the best ride of his life.

***

The crowd is roaring in his ears, but it’s muffled by the sound of his own heartbeat and his heavy breathing, both steady and sure. That’s the one piece of advice he always remembers from his dad. If you’re calm and you keep your heart steady, you’re gonna win every time. It’s when people get erratic and nervous that they make stupid mistakes. Rhett knew before the buzzer sounded and his feet hit the dirt that he would win; it was just a matter of seeing it on the board.

He stands in the middle of the arena and turns toward the giant leader board. There’s a moment of silence, and then his name ticks to the top of the board, knocking down the name that just held that spot down to second place. The roar of the crowd fills his ears again, and he can’t help but celebrate on his way out of the arena. A near-perfect ride, next time, he promises himself a perfect one, even if his dad isn’t here to see it.

It’s later, when he’s already four beers deep, that he gets tapped on the shoulder, and he turns around to see a man a full head shorter than him, only coming up to his shoulder. “Hey, man, if you wanna buy me a beer, I should warn you that there’s a pretty long line.” So, maybe he was a little cocky but in his defense, every person who even recognized him that night offered to buy him a drink.

The man in front of him only chuckled with an easy smile. “Actually, I just came to tell you you had a great ride.” He holds out his hand. “Sutter Morgan,”

Rhett shakes his hand back, but he can’t keep his eyebrows from drawing together. That name sounded so familiar, but he couldn’t place it; four beers made his brain foggy. “Rhett Abbott,”

The guy laughs, and the sound makes a smile slide its way onto Rhett’s lips. “No, I know, you’re the guy who knocked me down to second place on the leaderboard.

That makes Rhett’s soft smile turn into a look of recognition, that’s why the name was so familiar. “Better luck next time?” He chuckles a little awkwardly. He wasn’t about to apologize for riding the way that he did, he was damn proud of it, but there was something about this man in front of him that threw him off his game.

“Yeah thanks,” Sutter smirks, then looks back toward the bar where the line is finally dwindling. “Hey, you still want that drink even though we’re technically supposed to be rivals?”

“Rivals?” Rhett snorts, “Didn’t know I was a character in a Marvel comic.”

Sutter can’t help but roll his eyes. “Do you want the beer or not?”

——

Tag list: @sebsxphia @rhettsunshine @fairyheart @theoraekenslover @becks-things @mustaaarrd @its-ares @statichvm @pagesfromthevoid @howtodisappear444 @girlcowboy @pascalfavor

#rhett abbott x original character #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range #outer range fanfic #give me grace #gmg

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theclassiccherry · 1 year ago

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class 2-a misc. headcanons

hey, I'm cherry. welcome. recs are open if you're interested. much love, drink some water, and take care babe. (also, a lot of this turned into their music tastes, so??)

tw: language, but that’s expected w me

====

-Todoroki and Momo are both well traveled, having been to multiple countries, and at one point or another becomes something the two share about with one another.

-Deku absolutely had a fnaf phase.

-It's canon Bakugou likes romance novels; however, sharks I present to you: Bakugou watches Bridgerton. Send tweet.

-Mina has a fake and has used it to buy alcohol; however, this doesn't work so well after the sports festival after she's disclosed as a first year.

-I saw someone posted that Bakugou is a Kendrick Lamar fan, so whoever originally posted that, full credit to you (if you know, please comment and I'll tag them) -- I'd like to add he's a Future, Metro, 21 Savage, and The Weeknd fan as well, and you bet your ass he's training to The Hills, 10 Freaky Girls, and Mask Off.

-Bakugou has a skin care routine.

-Kirishima knows 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield by heart. If it gets played, he gets into that shit.

-There's a speaker system in Gym Gamma, and everyone takes turns on aux whenever there's a class practice. Songs that get played most are as follows:

Surround Sound by JID, 21 Savage, and Baby Tate

Without Me by Eminem

Literally anything that's by Rihanna, Pitbull, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, or Blackpink

m.A.A.d city by Kendrick Lamar

10 Freaky Girls by 21 Savage and Metro Boomin

Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar

(idk I feel like rap goes hard when you're training to kick ass, yk)

Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi (one of kiri's favorite songs)

yk Smooth Operator by Sade too 😭

-After the drake disses, no one is allowed to play drake, it gets vetoed almost immediately. however when not like us comes on, everyone holds the 'A MINORRR' and it's fucking gold

-Bakugou, Mina, Jirou, and Kirishima are primarily in control of the music cause the class tends to like whatever they play, but if enough people yell skip, the song gets vetoed.

-Deku could roast the shit out of someone if he chose to, like if you put him in Wild'n'Out he'd gut bitches, he's just too nice and keeps his mouth shut 99.9% of the time. Considering he knows so much about people, their habits, and quirks, he's also unintentionally got dirt on people. All of saying is, Deku could 1000% pull a Kendrick Lamar and end someone's career if he just decided to.

-Inko Midoriya brings food over to the class dorms for those who choose to remain in the dorms. She's the emergency contact for like, half of the class, and is essentially everyone's mom. If something's wrong, Momma Midoriya is already in the mom van and on the way.

-Mitsuki is a wine mom. Tell me I'm wrong. I'll wait.

-Kirishima has like, 50 flavors of protein powder. it's all stacked neatly on a shelf in his dorm.

-Kaminari has been banned from the kitchen, he's too much of a liability once he starts 'cooking'.

-Sato keeps a cookie jar, and bakes fresh cookies every couple days - it lives in the kitchen off to the side. He's also just really laid back, and if you're on your cycle and have a specific pastry you're craving, if you ask, he'll make it for you fresh if he has the time.

-Kirishima is a hugger and if you've had a bad day, and need a hug, just hug him. He'll sit there and hold you as long as you need, stating it's, "manly to hug it out!"

-Deku also gives amazing hugs, but is too shy to do so with people he's not close with.

-Mina and Hagakure host dance parties every Friday night for the girlies. No boys are allowed, but Aoyama is invited because he's fabulous.

-Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero play Fortnite and COD together. Kirishima called them the 'Baku-squad' once and that's when that term was first coined by the group (in my headcanons). Bakugou secretly likes that it's named after him.

-Deku, Tsu, Uraraka, Todoroki and Ilda have a Minecraft server together. Deku built a massive All Might and proceeded to live in it, Tsu has a hut by the mangroves, Uraraka lives in the cherry biome, and then Todoroki and Ilda have this really organized massive house in a spruce forrest. When everyone saw it for the first time, they all went, "holy shit...". Lest to say it soon becomes the HQ of the server when they suit up for the ender dragon fight.

-Speaking of Minecraft, Deku builds the most elaborate red stone you've ever seen, but cannot explain how and what he built to save his life. He also owns all of the Minecraft books that came out in like, 2016.

-Aizawa lives on Melatonin gummies, black coffee, and shear force of will. I also feel like at one point in his early 20s he smoked cigarettes then quit.

-Sero's hammock is something he keeps as a privilege after Bakugou broke it.

-Bakugou just happens to 'make too much' food and happens to make sure his friends have eaten properly.

-Present Mic is a die hard Mitsuki fan.

-Aizawa genuinely loves his students and does little things for them. Like at graduation, there's a small note from him to each student in their diplomas for them to find later. It's personalized for each of them, but he gives his personal contact to all in case they ever need anything (he would drop everything and help but he won't say that out loud).

-If Bakugou or Midoriya ever got ahold of Thor's hammer, they'd both be worthy. Bakugou more-so at the end of the series than the beginning. Kirishima could also lift it depending on the situation.

-Mineta's been sent to detention multiple times for looking up things he should NOT be googling on the school WiFi. Aizawa is really sick of his shit, he refuses to even look at the links anymore cause it's bad, and so he just lectures him like a hopeless parent and then gives the Chromebook back lmao

-Aizawa uses his body wash as face wash and has flawless skin.

-If Denki was a vine, he’d be the *calling roll call* “Uh, Shithead?” “It’s pronounced shi-thead”

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nyx-is-missing · 2 years ago

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hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #clarisse la rue

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sharlotscarletfox · 2 months ago

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5 times Sirona Ryan and Mirabel Garlick tried to hide their relationship from their students, and the one time they didn't care

A/N: Been really excited for this one since I learned that Mirabel considered quitting Hogwarts because she didn't fit in, but Sirona helped her.

TW: mild period-specific homophobia and transphobia (NOT FROM THE STUDENTS) aside from this it's very fluffy

Sirona Ryan wondered if the unease she felt staring at the enormity of the Hogwarts castle gates would ever go away.

Once a month, the witch took some time to travel around England, and occasionally neighboring countries, to other inns and pubs to try new drinks and food items that she could potentially use to expand the Three Broomsticks menu. Keeping things fresh and the happiness of her clientele has been her top priority since she took over as the proprietor.

This month’s adventure took her a little closer to home, right in front of the gates of the place that held an equal amount of bad memories as it did good. This is the place where she had endured years of bullying, but also met some of her closest friends who remained important people in her life.

It was a happy occasion right now, since she decided to pay a visit to her girlfriend, the title which she still had a hard time believing was real, and brought a giddy smile to her face every time it crossed her mind.

Normally, she’d send her request for ingredients via her owl, but with O.W.L. exams coming up, Mirabel was stuck working late, providing extra mentoring to students in need, and helping to keep track of the projects and experiments being done by her more capable students. Sirona missed her dearly and wanted to make this request in person (and maybe see her face as well).

She got her bearings and pushed the door open, making her way through the hallways. Some students gave her strange looks, probably wondering what she was doing so far from Hogsmeade; others gave her shy smiles and friendly waves, which she gratefully returned.

Students had just begun to filter out by the time she arrived. Sirona let the classroom empty out before entering.

Mirabel was looking slightly distressed as she lectured two students covered in dirt.

“You have to be more careful with your Fanged Geraniums! We don’t want to send letters home to your parents telling them you lost a finger or two.”

The dissheveled Slytherin student with double braids reached for her haphazardly potted plant, which in turn snapped at her hand. She yanked it back and tried holding it out of snapping range. Sirona watched her hold the plant as far as physically possible from her body and then place it on the table with everyone else’s.

A Ravenclaw boy with fair hair in a similar state of disarray gathered his books in a hurry. Sirona thought she recognized him from the few Quidditch matches she has shown up to in order to support her own house. She was glad to see Ravenclaw accomplish great things after her graduation. “We are very sorry, Professor Garlick.”

“Sorry about the mess.” The Slytherin girl parroted before they both chased after their friends, who were no doubt already halfway to their next classes.

“Trouble with students?” Sirona asked.

“I am worried about those two.” Mirabel let out a sigh, casting a spell to clean up all the dirt from the floor and the tables. “It’s like the plants hate them, but all my plants are like children; they thrive in the right care.”

She took out her own wand and cleaned off a streak of dirt from her girlfriend’s clothes that were otherwise always neat and well taken care of. “I am sure they will figure it out.”

After making sure the classroom was in an acceptable condition for the next class, Mirabel finally gave Sirona a smile and caught her in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you! What are you doing here? What about the Three Broomsticks?”

“I missed you too.” Sirona chuckled. “It’s my day off, I thought I would pay you a visit and see how things were going in the castle. You’ve been so busy with teaching. Oh, I also had a request.”

“Anything for you! How can I be of assistance?”

“I was thinking of experimenting with Osmanthus in some of the Three Broomsticks’ drinks. I don’t know if you grow them here or how long it would take to grow from scratch.”

Mirabel mused to herself for a second. “Not at the moment, but I just might have some seeds from an old colleague of mine I met at a conference! Wonderful wizard with a huge forearm scar from a Cobra Lily. Tricky plant, that one, definitely needs a swift and graceful hand to deal with it-“

Sirona wished she was half as passionate about anything in her life as Mirabel was about Herbology. She was quite the Quidditch player back in her day, but that was behind her now that she picked the Three Broomsticks over anything else.

"I've truly missed you." Mirabel's words shook her from her thoughts. She was always better at expressing her feelings.

"I've missed you too." Sirona sighed.

"You should kiss me."

Always so confident and straightforward. Her Mirabel.

Somehow, even with clear permission, Sirona felt a bit shy as she pulled her girlfriend closer. She was warm under her touch, and her smile did something to Sirona's heart that she hoped she would never lose. She always wanted Mirabel to make her feel like flying.

She leaned in for the kiss, feeling the other inhale sharply when the door to the greenhouses let out an awful sound, as if the castle was alive and it was being tortured.

The two of them jumped away from each other, heart hammering in her chest.

"I've meant to oil those old hinges," Mirabel grumbled to herself and looked toward the door. "Ah, Ms. Winterald, how may I help you today?"

The Hufflepuff student with a prominent silver streak in her hair stood by the doorway, surveying the scene before deciding to approach. "Professor Garlick, am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, I was just leaving." Sirona lied, beconing the student in. "I'll see you another time… professor."

The student nodded her goodbye. "Professor, I understood the lecture, but I still had a couple of more technical questions-"

When Sirona was finally outside the greenhouses, she let out a sigh. They really had to be a bit more careful. She didn't want to put Mirabel's career in jeopardy. If Headmaster Black got word of this through student gossip, he would use that as fuel, on top of her Muggleborn heritage, to try to get her fired.

Mirabel Garlick loved spring, mostly because she got to see her plants and students thrive everywhere, but also because it meant she could wear her nicest skirts and dresses to class, and also when going into Hogsmeade to run errands or visit Sirona.

Today was a day she did both.

She headed up the bridge to the Magic Neep, greeting Timothy Teasdale warmly. The two of them engaged in a lengthy conversation about alternate uses of Fluxweed in potion making and in medicine, and picked up some more fertilizer that she hoped would last her students until the end of the year. Between her fifth years doing OWL examinations and sixth and seventh years working on their NEWT studies, her resources for the year were wearing thin.

Bidding him goodbye, she headed to the Three Broomsticks for her second errand.

She pushed the doors open to the pub and stopped in the doorway, blinking in surprise.

The Three Broomsticks was packed to the brim, every table filled with Hogsmeade patrons or visiting Hogwarts students. Some were celebrating among friends, some had books out, studying for the upcoming exams. Mirabel couldn't wrap her mind around how any of her precious flowers could learn anything in a place with such loud noise levels.

Sirona was whirling around tables, busy at work. She looked in her element, wiping a table down with a rag which she then threw over her shoulder, and then using her wand in her pocket to conjure three more mugs for the table in the back. One of the patrons stopped her and rattled off an order for a party of four, which she acknowledged with a nod.

Mirabel decided to take a seat at the bar and figured she would wait the crowd out. She didn't have anything planned for today, aside from a few check-ins with her older students.

It didn't take Sirona too long to notice her. Mirabel figured she was hard to miss with her colorful attire and wide-brimmed straw hat. Her red hair was in a single braid today, decorated with a few flowers tucked in here and there.

"I'll be with you in a moment," Sirona shot her a glance when she walked behind the counter to get more Butterbeer. Mirabel smiled at her brightly, watching her turn away and then back again. "Oh my gods, Mirabel, you came at a bad time, we are very busy."

"Take your time, love, I have most of the afternoon."

Sirona shot her a smile and went back to work.

Mirabel continued watching the same scenes play out: cleaning tables, delivering more food and drinks, and chatting with patrons. Except this time, Sirona kept shooting her glances, as if she had a hard time believing she was here, or maybe she was afraid Mirabel would give up and leave.

As much as she hated the loud and busy environments (plants thrived in quiet places with lots of sunlight and love), she had to admit Sirona was in her element here.

She remembered how badly her girlfriend wanted to take over after the last owners and how happy she was when she got it. It was impressive how she managed to make things more efficient while also staying true to what the Three Broomsticks was really about, friends coming together and nurturing relationships.

When things quieted down, Sirona took her rightful place behind the bar. "And anything I can get you today?"

"Just a Gillywater, please." She responded.

"What brings you to the Three Broomsticks during rush hour?"

Mirabel scrunched her nose and accepted her drink. "I didn't realize you were so busy on a weekend."

"Most students come during the weekend. They surely can't come in during weekdays." Sirona joked.

"Anyway, I brought what you asked! Evelyne helped research the proper care for it since it's an Eastern plant, so it took a bit of adjustment in a part of the greenhouse, but we got it done!" She hauled her basket on top of the table, dug around for a bit for a pouch, and then presented it with a grin. "Ta da! Your Osmanthus is grown and ready to be experimented with."

"Oh, I could have picked it up myself, Mirabel-"

"Nonsense!" She interrupted, pushing the pouch into Sirona's hands, which she gratefully took and inspected. "It is an amazingly beautiful spring day to be out in Hogsmeade, and I was coming here anyway for fertilizer."

"Alright, would you like to come in?" Sirona said, and Mirabel detected a hint of awkwardness in her tone.

She gave her girlfriend a blank smile, making her sputter and continue. "I meant, come to the back. With me. I could show you what I am working on."

"Ah, of course!" Mirabel brightened up. She stood up and smoothed her skirt out. "Lead the way."

Sirona led her to a single wooden door behind the bar, which opened up to a storage room. Bottles upon bottles lined the shelves on one side, while the other stocked clean glasses and plates.

"They mostly use it in desserts and tea, but I was wondering if I could put it in whiskey. It would enhance the flavor." She turned to one of the shelves and pulled out a plate of pastries. "Here. I got this from Steeply & Sons just this morning."

She took a pastry eagerly and ate it in two bites. The dough was just chewy enough to add an interesting texture, and the fluffy frosting tasted of lavender. "It's really good."

"Now imagine the same pastry, but the flavor gets elevated by the Osmanthus," Sirona explained, excited.

"I am almost certain it will be amazing, you will do great, my love."

There was a hint of blush on Sirona's cheeks now, masked by the darkness of the storage room. She was doing the thing where she was trying to hide her smile, which Mirabel thought was adorable.

"There is a little, uh…" Sirona reached out to wipe a little bit of frosting that seemed to have gotten its way into her upper lips.

"Oh my, I apologize, I usually don't make messes."

She noticed Sirona looking at her intensely, hand slipping down to cup her cheek, and oh.

Mirabel missed being intimate with her girlfriend, they had both been so busy that they barely had any time to spend together. She thought back to that day in the greenhouses when she wanted to steal a quick kiss but was interrupted by one of her students.

She gave a small smile for reassurance and put her hands on Sirona's hips, leaning in for a kiss.

The storage room door cracked open just a bit, and the two of them broke apart quicker than lightning.

Two Hufflepuff students stuck their heads in, looking confused.

"Auri? Evie? What are you two doing here?" Mirabel asked, adjusting her hat.

"Sorry, professor." Evie apologized. She seemed oblivious to whatever was going on, but Auri had their eyes narrowed, giving the two of them a quizzical look. "Some patrons got in an argument, and we were getting worried."

"I know exactly who you are talking about. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." She put the pouch on one of the shelves. "Sorry, Mirabel, we can catch up another time."

Sirona and Evie disappeared outside. Auri stayed and looked like they were going to say something, but decided not to.

When everyone had left, Mirabel let out a defeated sigh, lifting her fingers to where Sirona wiped off the frosting.

How embarrassing!

After weeks of tampering with the pastries and drinks, Sirona finally felt confident enough to pack together a basket full of food to try and make her way back to the castle.

She scheduled her visit so that she would arrive just after Mirabel's class would end and planned to stay in the greenhouses to have her try everything at least once and give feedback. It was also an excuse to see her girlfriend simply because she missed her.

Her good mood was unfortunately interrupted by a voice she hadn't heard since she graduated.

"Oh, Mist- uhhh. Ryan." Headmaster Black sputtered not so eloquently.

He was one of the professors at Hogwarts who hadn't respected Sirona's transition, always misgendering her, whether by ignorance or spite, it did not matter, and she had to fight for herself every year, correcting him whenever she had to. "Headmaster."

She held his scrutinizing gaze as he sized her up, seemingly lost at what to say.

"Good to see that all that," he gestured at her, "wasn't a phase."

Not the worst thing he could have possibly said, and it was progress, but she still felt the need to set him straight. "It has never been a phase, it's who I have always been. It just took me a bit to realize."

He waved her away, embarrassed. "You run along now."

Sirona huffed but tried to get the interaction out of her mind. She was going to see Mirabel.

She pushed the door to the greenhouses open quietly, slipping in and letting it close behind her.

Students were putting their pots away, or chatting with friends, ready to leave already.

Mirabel gave her a smile and a wave of her hand, which Sirona had returned.

When most of the students had already left, she moved to talk to her, but she got intercepted by a blonde girl sporting Gryffindor colors.

"Professor Garlick, do you have a moment?"

Mirabel shot Sirona a glance, who shrugged in response. She could wait for the students to ask her questions.

What she didn't expect was fifteen minutes of in-depth discussion about the different uses of Wormwood.

"But would a different way of processing it make it more potent?" She asked.

"Ms. O'Connell, you must be careful, while potency is a valued trait in potion making, in large quantities it is poisonous." Mirabel informed her gently.

The Gryffindor girl seemed to consider that for a moment and then nodded, conceding her point. "That's all I wanted to know. You have a good day, Professor."

"You two, petal."

The two of them watched her gather her books and run along.

"Passionate students, you have this year." Sirona remarked, putting the basket down.

"For sure, they have shown much growth this year." She grinned. "What's this?"

"The Osmanthus you have grown is so versatile. I've been putting it in everything and just testing the taste of it. I put together a sampler for us to enjoy." She opened the basket and started presenting her new lineup.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around Sirona, who was giggling with excitement. She cupped her cheek and leaned in when-

The sound of the door opening made them break apart.

"Professor?"

Two students stood in the doorway, mirroring twin looks of confusion.

The Hufflepuff student on the right had unmistakable white streaks in her dark hair, and the Ravenclaw student on her other side had short hair and a sizable scar on the cheek.

"Lyra, Julia, what are you doing here? Did you guys leave your quills here?" Mirabel asked, clearly not expecting the intrusion.

"It's 4 o'clock, Professor." The Hufflepuff student spoke politely. "We sent an owl last week. You agreed to help us prepare some ingredients for our Potions projects for Sharp's class."

Confusion turned into realization. "I remember now! You guys needed supervision for some of the plants."

"I can just go," Sirona assured when she saw Mirabel's smile drop. "I will see you another time, Mirabel."

When she got to the door, the Ravenclaw student refused to move for a moment, giving her a strange look.

After a bit, she spoke. "Happy for you two."

Sirona nodded with tight-lipped smile, watching her join the other student in engaging in a discussion.

After she closed the door behind her, she let out a hopeful sigh. She was glad there was support for them out there, even if it came from unexpected sources.

Mirabel rarely had free time to herself.

Herbology was a required class taken across the first five years of Hogwarts curriculum, and then proceeded to be a popular NEWTs level subject across most Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, so she rarely got breaks from it. In addition to that, most plants required care every single day.

She was lucky enough to find one morning when classes were in session, but she herself had no class to hold, and decided to go into Hogsmeade for a visit.

She had owled Sirona in advance, who told her that she could get her assistant to run the Three Broomsticks in the meantime, since they are not very busy in the morning on school days. That would give them plenty of time to walk around Hogsmeade and enjoy their quiet morning off.

When Mirabel arrived at the pub, Sirona was already waiting outside. She was wearing a skirt Mirabel hadn't seen before, and a nicer long sleeve. She wondered if she came to work looking prettied up, or if she changed just for their date.

When she spotted her, Sirona gave a shy smile. "Good morning."

"You look beautiful."

Her girlfriend looked stunned for a second and averted her gaze, a dark blush dusting her cheeks. Mirabel loved seeing her usually self-assured lover suddenly look shy and clueless.

"Thank you. Shall we go?"

The two of them linked arms, and to anyone watching, they looked like a couple of friends and enjoyed their date.

They went to get some drinks and pastries at Steeply and Sons, paid a visit to Mr. Pippin to chat about his plans for the summer, and reminisce about their Hogwarts years while splitting a box of Every Flavored Beans.

They got near Ollivanders, and for a blessed moment, it seemed like the two of them were alone.

"I've had a good time today." Garlick reflected.

"Me too, it's so rare to see the village so quiet."

Mirabel reached up to brush a stray piece of hair behind Sirona's ear, and her girlfriend leaned into the touch.

She shifted closer, glancing at Sirona's lip,s and closed her eyes-

The store bell next to them rang, announcing the exit of customers. "Thank you Mr. Weeks, see you on Saturday!"

They broke apart, Mirabel scowling at the intrusion until she spotted the three Gryffindor students piling out of Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

The leader of the pack, Thomas Astbury, was tossing a Quaffle up into the air and then catching it.

"Mr. Asbury, if my memory serves me right, the fifth years have classes at the moment. Care to explain what you three are doing here?" She scolded.

"We have permission from Kogawa." He shrugged, tossing the ball again.

"The Quaffle we were practicing with was old, and the stitching came apart, so we were told to get a new one." Clementine Ross, one of Mirabel's more passionate student added, stealing the Quaffle out of Thomas' hands on the next toss.

"Is this true Mr. Lewis?" She asked skeptically and heard Sirona snicker from behind her.

William grinned at her. "Would it be so bad if a couple of Gryffindors went and caused a bit of trouble during school hours?"

"Hey!" Clementine protested.

"It's true." He amended. "We were sent by Kogawa for some supplies. Clementine had to drag Thomas out of there."

"In my defense-"

"Let them go Mirabel, we got up to our fair share of trouble when we were students." Sirona put a hand on her shoulder, and she conceded.

"Fine, run along now."

The three of them made for the edge of the village, waving at them and saying their goodbyes.

"Goodbye Professor Garlick, enjoy your date!" Thomas yelled before hopping on his broom and chasing after his friends.

"These students and their assumptions." She huffed to herself, but Sirona let out a chuckle.

"Maybe they are just not blind, Mirabel. I thought attentiveness was a good trait to have when looking after plants."

"It is! Speaking of plants, I need to get back and water the Sopophorous Beans. Evelyne might not have time today because of her history exam." She looked around, but the street was magically filled by townsfolk now, so she had to refrain from being affectionate. "I will see you another day?"

"Of course." Sirona nodded, and the two parted ways.

Their next meeting was a date they set up in Mirabel's room at Hogwarts.

Sirona once again prepared her refined selection of pastries and some alcoholic drinks she couldn't exactly bring her during class time, even if her girlfriend did handle her alcohol rather well for someone with her build.

The evening started off great, Sirona talked about the clientele's reception of the new menu items and the monthly Hogsmeade shopkeepers' association meeting that happened earlier that day. Beatrice Green, the owner of Dogweed and Deathcap, has proposedthat she be allowed to keep outdoor plants, which was opposed by nearly all the shopkeepers.

"Plants are retaliatory beings," Mirabel explained. "If you treat them well and give them the care they deserve, they thrive. They only attack you if you mistreat them. If students lose a finger or two, it's their fault."

Sirona chuckled, not wanting to argue that even if students are good with plants, not everyone has Mirabel's uncanny ability to charm every plant that she came across.

Mirabel then proceeded to tell her about some of her students' successful projects and the few unsuccessful ones as well.

Over the course of the night, the two got a bit more intoxicated. Nothing compared to the parties they would attend in their 7th year at Hogwarts, but Sirona felt the pleasant buzz of alcohol in her system and didn't seem to keep her eyes off of her girlfriend, who had her hair down for this occasion instead of her signature double braids.

"And then I was like," she slammed her cup on the table to emphasize her point. "Damien, you must have a bit more patience with the Gernaium if you don't want to lose an eye."

Sirona nodded along, surveying the liquid in her own cup when Mirabel suddenly stood up.

"If you excuse me, I must use the restroom."

She headed for her bedroom when a loose floorboard tripped her.

Sirona moved quickly, catching her girlfriend just before she hit the floor. Mirabel giggled as she helped her stand.

With her arms around her neck, she smiled brightly at her. Sirona figured that's why all the plants liked Mirabel so much, she was sunshine personified.

"I love you." She muttered, leaning in for a kiss.

There was a knock on the door, and Mirabel let out a loud, frustrated sound that Sirona didn't even think she was capable of.

She steadied herself on her feet, slipping from Sirona's arms, and made her way to her door. "Who at this hour-"

At the door stood a student in her plain nightgown, looking alarmed at the sight. Sirona didn't need the snake on the crest and green colors to recognize this one, as she was one of her hardest workers and favorite summertime employees.

Evelyne Lavandin looked back and forth between them with a calculating expression, probably wondering what her guardian and employer were up to, half intoxicated on a Friday night.

"What's wrong, little bud? Is Imelda being loud again?" Mirabel seemed to sober up in an instant.

"Am I interrupting something?" She muttered, taking a cautious step back.

"Please do come in, you know we don't bite." Sirona joked, motioning her in. "Well, some of Mirabel's plants do."

She refused to move an inch from her spot by the door, but she did turn to look at Mirabel. "One of the Screechsnaps is causing a ruckus. Students have been complaining."

"I told that one, there is no need to be scared of the dark!" She fussed, grabbing for her robe by the door. "Sorry, Sirona, I will be back in a bit."

"Take your time." Sirona sighed, defeated.

As Mirabel walked out the door, Evelyne gave Sirona a clear look of warning.

Sirona held up her hands in surrender as a response and figured the two of them were really bad at hiding their relationship. Or Evelyne was just exceptionally perceptive, which was on brand for the Slytherin girl. She was one of the most capable students Sirona had ever met and worked with.

When the door closed behind them, she let out a defeated sigh and got to cleaning the table so Mirabel wouldn't have to worry about it later.

Sirona invited Mirabel to the Three Broomsticks on the Sunday they officially released the new menu to the public. So naturally, she put on a nice outfit and went to support her girlfriend on her big day.

When she entered, the Three Broomsticks was already overflowing with patrons and students alike, it seemed some shopkeepers even closed early to try and get a taste of what Sirona was adding. Sirona waved her over when she saw her.

“I saved you a spot here at the bar.” She smiled.

“Oooo, front row seats.” Mirabel remarked as she sat down.

Mirabel watched as the orders kept pouring in, and how joyous Sirona looked at all of the positive feedback that she had received.

Just like a plant, thriving in her element and receiving plenty of love.

She returned to the bar when people actually started eating and drinking rather than ordering.

“Everyone looks very happy.”

“I know, tonight can be chalked up as a success.” Sirona beamed, and Mirabel really wanted to kiss her. There was nothing greater in the world than sharing the joy and success with a loved one.

She looked around the room, noting how everyone was enjoying their money’s worth, with no one looking at them.

“What’s wrong?” Sirona asked, confused.

“Come here.” She leaned over the counter of the bar, dragging Sirona closer to her.

One more look at the people around them, and she leaned to kiss her girlfriend.

“Sirona, could we get some refills-”

Mirabel ignored her meddlesome students this time and finally pressed her lips to Sirona’s, who stood shocked for a moment before kissing her back.

“This is interesting.” Remarked another voice.

When they pulled apart, Mirabel turned to look at her students.

Nettie had her mouth slightly open in shock, two Butterbeer mugs clutched in gloved hands. Beside her, Rayna sported a knowing smirk instead.

Sirona took a second to collect herself. “Refill on Firewhiskey?”

“Butterbeer, my dear.” Mirabel chided. “Please don’t give strong alcohol to my fifth years.”

She took the mugs from the red-headed Hufflepuff girl’s hands and turned around to give them a refill.

“How long has this been going on?” Rayna asked, seemingly pleased with this information.

“Didn’t I teach you not to be pushy with your plants? Patience is crucial for Herbology.”

Before the dark-haired girl could answer, Sirona returned with the mugs now full.

Nettie accepted the drinks and leaned over to Rayna, whispering. “I heard rumors but didn’t want to assume anything.”

“The Ravenclaws have been betting on this for weeks now.” The other shrugged and gave them a slight smile.

After they left, she turned to Sirona. “Were we that bad at hiding it?”

“Maybe,” she chuckled, cleaning a cup out with her rag. “That and this batch of students have been wonderfully bright in my opinion.” “Couldn’t agree more.” She laughed and kissed Sirona on the cheek this time.

Thank you for everyone letting me use their OCs and give back to this wonderful community! Here is the roll call by section.

Double braided Slytherin Herbology disaster is my own Rena Horvath

The other fair-haired Ravenclaw Herbology disaster-in-crime is @theladyofshalott1989 's Damien Evans!

The Hufflepuff girl with the silver streak is @fukae-flwr 's Edith Winterald!

The Hufflepuff friends at Hogsmeade belong to @rypnami and @rosewoodcafe. Thank you for letting me borrow Auri and Evie. <3

The wonderfully inquisitive blonde Gryffindor girl Scarlett O'Connell (I couldnt find your character sheet so I included the fic link), who likes chatting with Professor Garlick, belongs to @sallowedheart.

The potions girlies who recognize the importance of Herbology in their craft are @franciswitchcraft 's Hufflepuff, Lyra Esmeray and @superconductivebean 's Ravenclaw, Julia Wright!

The awesome Gryffindor squadron consists og @negorizryoda 's Thomas Astbury, @gatypookster 's Clementine Ross and @eggzeroni 's William Lewis!

Evelyne Lavandin belongs to the talented @libellule-ao3, Mirabel is her legal guardian in her fic, and also in this Pride Week project of mine. She's also mentioned in sections 2 and 4, I believe, because I figured Mirabel would bring her up.

Last but not least, our favorite redheaded, gloved Hufflepuff girl, Nettie, belongs to @ladyofsappho, and the dark-haired Ravenclaw girl, Rayna, is once again @eggzeroni 's.

Thank you everyone again for letting me use them in my project! (If i messed anything up please let me know)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy pride week #mirabel garlick #sirona ryan #mirabel garlick x sirona ryan #hlpw2025 #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc

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