#it's pulled straight from the powerpoint

[byhuenii]

Cause you’re hot n you’re cold

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis You’re taken. Bucky? “Single.” Except he flirts with you nonstop like a desperate maniac. The team’s losing it Spoiler: it’s your messy, secret love life and Bucky’s terrible flirting that’s the real mission.

Word Count 5k

Tags + Warnings mild swearing, playful flirting, secret relationship, consensual romantic relationship, bucky (yes he is his own warning), light team drama, jealousy mentions, shirtless scenes (no smut). lots of comedy & chaos, reader discretion advised, small usage of Y/N.

— Cause you’re hot n you’re cold just straight messy and entertainment for you and bucky

There were only two kinds of Thunderbolts team meetings.

1) The kind where someone almost died, or 2) The kind where someone almost killed someone else for saying something stupid.

Today’s meeting was flirting with both.

Yelena had her feet up on the table, chewing sunflower seeds like she was watching an execution. Ava sat next to her, arms crossed, watching you. Bob was looking at the ceiling like he wanted God to beam him out of existence. John was muttering into his coffee. And Alexei was eating raw tuna from a Ziploc bag.

In the middle of it all?

Bucky Barnes.

Slouched. Smirking. Staring at you.

And you, bless your soul, were doing everything you could to pretend he wasn’t slowly driving the team into a collective breakdown.

“So,” you said, trying to get the debrief back on track, “we neutralized the target and recovered the tech. Minimal civilian interference—”

Bucky leaned over and murmured, “You looked good out there.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That left hook? Hot.”

You deadpanned. “I have a boyfriend.”

He leaned back, arm slung across the chair next to him. “Still haven’t seen him.”

John choked on his drink.

Ava looked personally betrayed.

Bob made a sound like a balloon deflating.

Yelena actually spit out her seeds.

You didn’t even flinch. You just turned to face the projector again and muttered under your breath:

“This is why we said no PDA.”

—

FLASHBACK: The PowerPoint

You and Bucky had prepared for this. Or you had.

The moment Val stuck you on the Thunderbolts assignment, you knew things would get complicated. You were good at compartmentalizing. You were smart. Logical.

Bucky was… not those things when it came to you.

So naturally, you made rules.

You’d sat him down with a coffee, a frown, and a tablet that read:

“THE OPSEC PLAN: Keeping Our Relationship Under Wraps (So No One Murders You)”

Slide 1: No hand-holding. Slide 2: No calling you pet names. Slide 3: No post-mission cuddles in visible places. Slide 4: No looking at you like you invented the sun. Slide 5: No making you blush in front of John Walker because he’d die of secondhand embarrassment and Bob would have to resuscitate him.

“Babe,” Bucky had said, arm around your waist, “this is adorable.”

“Stop calling me babe.”

“‘Sweetheart’ better?”

You sighed. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“I’m going to get you flustered,” he said, nuzzling your neck. “The team’s never gonna notice a thing.”

Spoiler alert: the team absolutely noticed.

—

Back in the meeting, you barely got through the mission notes without spontaneous combustion.

As soon as it ended, Yelena stood up, clapped once, and said, “Right. I’m investigating.”

“What?” you asked.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Barnes,” she said. “I’m sick of it.”

“You mean him flirting,” Ava added darkly. “It’s predatory at this point.”

Bob nodded solemnly. “It’s emotional warfare.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “You have a boyfriend.”

You nodded firmly. “Yes. I do.”

“Name?”

You froze.

Your brain pulled up a blank file labeled “Panicked Lies.”

“Uh… Ben.”

“BEN?” Yelena echoed, like you said Voldemort.

“Ben who?” Ava asked suspiciously.

“…Smith?”

Bob looked like he wanted to die.

John stood up and announced, “I’m filing a report.”

“There’s no HR,” you said again, exasperated.

“And yet this still feels wildly illegal,” Bob muttered.

Alexei raised his tuna. “I like this game. Make up more fake boyfriends! ‘Derek Ice-Biceps!’ ‘Chad Thundercheeks!’”

Everyone stared at him.

“I hate it here,” Ava whispered.

There were conspiracy theories, and then there was whatever Yelena was doing in the laundry room with a corkboard, three pushpins jammed into her mouth, and a very concerned Bob watching her from a safe distance like she might throw detergent at him next.

“So he brought her coffee again today,” Yelena muttered, yanking a red string out of her bag.

Bob blinked. “Maybe he just likes… being helpful?”

Yelena turned slowly. “Bob. He called her ‘trouble with a capital hot.’ Out loud.”

“Maybe he has a stroke problem.”

“Why hasn’t her boyfriend punched him in the face yet, then?”

Bob paused. “…Maybe her boyfriend is very understanding.”

Yelena pinned a polaroid of you and Bucky standing a suspicious three inches apart. “Or imaginary.”

Enter: Ava Starr, deadpan, wielding a USB stick like a weapon.

“I’ve uploaded all video footage from the last 72 hours. All instances of ‘Barnes proximity violations.’” She tossed the USB on the dryer. “There are thirty-seven. In public spaces alone.”

Yelena turned and looked Bob directly in the eye.

“She is being stalked.”

Bob immediately began sweating.

Meanwhile…

You were in the weapons room just trying to polish your knives and mind your business.

Bucky Barnes, unfortunately, had made “minding your business” literally impossible.

He leaned against the doorway like a movie poster. “Whatcha doin’?”

You didn’t look up. “Working.”

He walked in. Picked up a blade. Spun it between his fingers like he had a death wish. “Want help?”

You sighed. “I have a boyfriend.”

“And yet,” he said, sidling closer, “you’re always here. Always alone. Always looking like you miss me.”

“James,” you warned.

He placed the knife down.

“You know,” he whispered, lips near your ear, “if you just admitted you wanted me, we could stop pretending.”

You almost stabbed his foot.

Thunderbolts HQ — Conspiracy Room

“Okay,” Bob said nervously. “So—just to confirm—we think she’s in danger… from Bucky?”

“No,” Ava said, dragging a sticky note across the corkboard. “She’s being emotionally manipulated. Gaslit. Possibly ‘slow-burn seduced.’”

“Is that a clinical term?” he asked weakly.

“Sounds hot,” Alexei added from the corner, eating a carrot like a cigar.

Everyone ignored him.

Yelena pulled out a folder labeled “Evidence.” It included:

4 suspicious glances

2 moments where you touched Bucky’s arm (suspiciously long)

A doodle she found in your notebook that she swore was “clearly his jawline”

Bob squinted. “That might just be a… square.”

“Exactly,” Ava muttered. “A squared jaw.”

Bob buried his face in his hands. “You people need a hobby.”

“We have one,” Yelena said. “It’s protecting our teammate from weaponized flirting.”

Mission Debrief, Day 4 of Suspicion

Val entered the room with a tablet and a headache. “Mission went fine. Nobody died. I don’t care what else happened.”

You tried to take notes.

Bucky sat down next to you—too close again—and whispered: “Want to grab dinner after this?”

You didn’t even look at him. “You’re insufferable.”

He smiled. “You love it.”

From across the room, Yelena stared daggers into his skull.

Bob nudged Ava. “Okay. But maybe they are dating.”

“No,” she whispered. “She has a boyfriend.”

“But I heard Bucky call her ‘sunshine incarnate’ while sparring.”

Ava’s expression turned ice-cold. “That’s not flirting. That’s a psychological operation.”

Bob looked like he wanted to fall into a sinkhole.

—

Time Check: Midnight. You and Bucky were curled up in the surveillance room. You were on his lap. His dog tags were hanging loose, and he was telling you a story about 1943 while tracing lazy circles on your thigh.

“We’re going to get caught,” you whispered, half-asleep against him.

“We’ve been almost caught ten times,” he said, cocky. “You think anyone suspects?”

You laughed bitterly. “Yelena has a red-string board. Bob cried the other day. Ava’s three seconds from stabbing you.”

Bucky kissed your cheek. “They’ll get over it.”

“Babe, we’ve been lying for months.”

He just smiled, and pulled you closer.

That Same Night: Laundry Room Conspiracy Intensifies

Bob, Ava, and Yelena met again.

“She smiled at him today,” Bob whispered, haunted.

Yelena slammed down a folder. “She’s in love with him.”

“Or terrified,” Ava added.

“We have to intervene,” Yelena said. “Soon.”

Bob paled. “Shouldn’t we like… verify with her first? Ask gently? In a hallway?”

Ava shook her head. “She’s compromised.”

Yelena stood, dramatic. “I’m giving it three days. If she doesn’t tell us what’s going on, we go in.”

“Like… kick her door down?” Bob squeaked.

“Exactly.”

Alexei passed by, holding a burrito the size of a toddler. “Ooh, are we doing spy stuff again?”

Yelena and Ava shared a look.

“Get your gloves, big guy,” Yelena said.

“I LIVE FOR THIS.”

It all started because John Walker had been watching Ted Lasso.

He paused the episode mid-monologue, sat up straight on the couch, and said aloud to no one:

“We need to talk this out like emotionally mature adults.”

Unfortunately, the people in question were:

You

Bucky “Shameless Menace” Barnes

And a team of emotionally unstable vigilantes who weaponized Google Docs

Still, John had hope.

—

📱 John W. (ThunderDad) created group “Team Check-In 🧠”

John W.:

Hey everyone! Group wellness chat!! :D

Bob :D :

is this about [Y/N] and the “Ben Smith” situation bc i’m already crying

Ava S.:

If we are doing therapy circles I’m bringing a weapon.

Yelena B.:

I made a presentation. It’s called “Faked Love: The Breakdown of Trust.”

Alexei S.:

Is this a meeting where we punch someone? I am bringing gloves.

John W.:

Guys. No. This is about COMMUNICATION.

Bucky B.:

👀

You:

I have literally done nothing wrong ever in my life

Ava:

Tell that to Ben Smith

You:

YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HIM

Yelena:

Because HE DOES NOT EXIST

John rented out the mission briefing room. He put out granola bars. There were two chairs facing each other. It looked like a low-budget talk show.

You walked in with arms crossed. Bucky followed, looking smug in a black Henley, sleeves rolled up, because of course.

Ava was already in the corner with a tactical folder labeled “Emotional Evidence.” Bob had brought stress balls. Alexei was asleep in the back with sunglasses on. Yelena was eating pickles and judgmentally staring at you both like a mother owl who just discovered her chicks had lied about their homework.

John stood between you like a referee. “Okay! Let’s open the floor. [Y/N]? Bucky? Want to share anything?”

You smiled sweetly. “I’m dating Ben. Nothing’s going on.”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah. I’m just friendly.”

Ava slammed her fist on the table. “You touched her lower back for five consecutive seconds last Tuesday.”

Bucky shrugged. “Stabilizing her stance.”

Yelena threw a flash drive at him. “I HAVE FOOTAGE.”

Halfway through the meeting, Bob pulled out a homemade scrapbook.

The cover read: “Ben & [Y/N]: A Love Imagined”

He sniffled. “I really thought you two would get married one day. I made fan art.”

You blinked. “You what?”

He turned the page. There was a drawing of you in a wedding dress and a faceless man labeled “Ben.”

Another page had a timeline:

Met in a bookstore

Fell in love over spilled coffee

Adopted a dog named Waffles

“He was the man I wanted to be,” Bob whispered.

You stared at Bucky. “This is your fault.”

Bucky looked weirdly proud.

—

Ava’s Official Report

Ava passed out printed reports titled:

“Case Study: Suspicious Intimacy Levels Between Agent [Y/N] and Sergeant Barnes.”

Page 1 included:

Time-stamped videos of “prolonged eye contact”

A list of quotes including:

Bucky: “You always look good when you lie.”

You: “Stop flirting with me.”

Bucky: “Make me.”

A graph labeled ‘Horniness Over Time’ showing a dramatic upward spike

Page 2 was just a blown-up screenshot of Bucky’s hand on your hip.

Ava folded her arms. “This is a betrayal of trust. And basic decency.”

You: “How is it betrayal if I didn’t do anything?”

Ava: “Because you’re bad at lying.”

Yelena: “And you blush every time he touches you.”

Alexei (waking up): “That’s called hormones! Let the children be!”

John: “Alexei, please—”

Alexei: “NO! In Soviet Russia, you hide relationship until death or suspicious pregnancy! This is normal!”

You and Bucky Being the Worst

After the meeting ended in disaster and a mild emotional breakdown (Bob had to be consoled with a cookie), you and Bucky snuck into the weapons bay.

You: “We need to pull back.”

Bucky: “On what? Us? The fun?”

You: “The flirting. They’re unraveling.”

Bucky leaned in, eyes glinting. “Why don’t you tell them?”

You: “Because it’s funny.”

He grinned. “Exactly. And a little hot, right? The whole forbidden thing?”

You shoved him gently. “You’re such a menace.”

He caught your hand, kissed it softly. “You love it.”

You looked away. “I really do.”

Team Chaos Continues

Yelena started building a slideshow titled “Signs Your Friend Is Being Gaslit by a Man with Great Hair.”

Bob was googling support groups for “Emotional Ben-loss.”

Ava began mapping out a military-grade sting operation she called “Operation Truthbomb.”

John, meanwhile, tried to email Val for help and ended up sending her Bob’s fan art by accident.

Val replied with:

“Are you guys okay. Should I send a therapist or a sniper.”

There were few things more terrifying than Yelena Belova in a calm mood.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t slam doors. She simply said:

“Would you like to get pasta with me?”

And when you—foolish, unsuspecting, guilty—said “sure,” she smiled.

Smiled.

That was the trap.

—

You arrived at the Thunderbolts mess hall to find:

A suspiciously clean table

Exactly two chairs

A massive bowl of penne alla vodka

Yelena, already seated, fork in hand, eyes glinting like she was about to read your soul

“Sit,” she said pleasantly.

You sat.

She pushed a bowl toward you. “Eat.”

You blinked. “This is nice…”

“Mhm,” she said, stabbing pasta like it owed her money. “So. Tell me about Ben.”

You choked on a penne.

“Middle name?” Yelena asked.

“…Christopher.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Interstellar.”

She stared. “Wrong. That’s your favorite movie.”

“It’s both our favorites?”

“Convenient.”

She leaned in, elbows on the table.

“Where did you meet?”

You swallowed. “A book fair.”

“Genre?”

“True crime.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “Name three books Ben has read.”

Your soul flatlined.

“Uhhh…” you stalled.

Meanwhile—

Bob, whispering into a headset:

“She’s cornered. She’s gonna fold.”

Ava, on the second channel:

“If she says ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ I swear to god—”

Alexei (not mic’d in, yelling):

“You cannot break her! She is strong! Like Soviet raccoon!”

John (eating a protein bar):

“Are we sure this is legal?”

Bob:

“Ben deserves justice.”

Back to Lunch: You Try Desperately to Lie

You: “Ben… really likes the classics.”

Yelena: “Name one.”

You: “The—uh—Art of War.”

Yelena: “That’s not a novel.”

You: “He… also enjoys poetry?”

Yelena leaned back. Crossed her arms. “You’re lying.”

You sighed. “You’re being dramatic.”

She pointed her fork at you. “You are flirting in front of us every day. You blushed when he held your stapler. You whispered something in his ear and GIGGLED.”

You: “He was making fun of John’s buzzcut.”

Yelena: “So was I, and I didn’t get all swoony about it!”

Just as Yelena opened her mouth to deliver what was definitely the emotional killing blow—

The door burst open.

“Hey,” Bucky panted, shirt slightly untucked, eyes wide. “Emergency. Huge emergency.”

Yelena turned sharply. “What kind of emergency?”

He held up… a small brown ferret. Who was currently chewing on his sleeve.

You blinked. “What the hell—?”

“She got into the armory. She pooped in John’s boot.”

“…What?”

“She’s yours,” Bucky lied smoothly. “She escaped your bag. Remember?”

Yelena looked back and forth. “You own a ferret?”

You nodded, trying not to scream-laugh. “Uh-huh. Rescue ferret. Her name’s… Meryl.”

“Meryl the menace,” Bucky added solemnly. “We need to go. Now.”

You stood up like your life depended on it. “Sorry, Yelena. Gotta—uh—clean up ferret crimes.”

Yelena stared, unblinking, as you fled with Bucky and the mystery creature.

She whispered into her hidden mic: “Abort mission. Target evacuated.”

You both collapsed inside, laughing hysterically.

“Where the hell did you get a ferret?” you gasped.

Bucky grinned, placing Meryl down gently. “Borrowed her from Val’s nephew. She owes me now.”

You were breathless. “We are SO bad at this.”

“We’re incredible at this,” he corrected, flopping onto the couch. “We just survived an international-level interrogation with pasta and a rodent.”

You climbed onto him. “We’re going to get exposed.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Worth it.”

—

Team Breakdown Debrief

Ava, Yelena, Bob, and John all gathered post-failure.

Bob was feeding Meryl tiny cookie crumbs.

“She has a pet ferret,” he whispered. “What kind of woman has a secret boyfriend and a secret rodent?”

Yelena slammed her head on the table. “I was so close.”

Ava glared at the pasta remains. “They’re cocky now. We need a bigger plan.”

John: “Or maybe—hear me out—we just let them date.”

Everyone turned and stared.

John: “What?”

Bob: “She has a BOYFRIEND, JOHN.”

John: “Who we’ve never seen. Or heard. Or… anything. At all.”

Ava: “I’m starting to think Ben Smith is like… Santa. Real in spirit. But fake in logistics.”

Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds  had officially hit rock bottom.

It was 2:03 a.m., and he was lying awake in bed with a blanket over his head, softly whispering to himself:

“Ben Smith is real. He has to be.”

And when the world offers no answers… Bob becomes the answer.

—

At 2:11 a.m., Bob created a Gmail account: ben.smith.1988@gmail.com

He stared at the blinking cursor, then typed:

“Hi. I’m Ben. I exist. And I am very real.”

Then he cracked his knuckles. And wrote the most emotionally charged, grammatically questionable email of his life.

Bucky was just vibing in the weapons room, sharpening a combat knife while humming Fleetwood Mac, when his Starkpad pinged.

Subject: A Word of Warning From: ben.smith.1988@gmail.com

Hello,

This is Ben.

I know what you’re doing with [Y/N].

Please stop making eyes at my girlfriend. She’s not interested in you. Even though you are muscly and brooding.

Signed,

Ben Smith (her boyfriend)

Bucky blinked.

Then burst out laughing so loud, Meryl the ferret startled and fell off a crate.

You appeared five minutes later.

“What’s so funny?”

He handed you the Starkpad.

You read it. Blinked. Then doubled over, wheezing.

“No. No. He didn’t—”

“He did,” Bucky said, wiping a tear.

You wheezed harder. “He said muscly and brooding.”

Bob, feeling the high of digital justice, forwarded the email to Ava.

Except he forgot to delete the signature at the bottom that said:

Sent from the desk of Bob :D , Assistant Intelligence Analyst

Ava read the email. Then the signature.

Then she stood up so hard her chair hit the wall.

Ava (texting Yelena):

You need to come here NOW Bob has officially lost his entire mind

Yelena:

I’ve been waiting for this day.

Team Emergency Meeting #3 was held in the storage closet because Val kicked them out of the conference room for “excessive dramatics.”

Ava: “Bob. You catfished Bucky. As Ben.”

Bob: “I didn’t catfish! I defended [Y/N]’s honor!”

John: “You used your real name in the email.”

Bob: “I panicked!”

Yelena: “You’re spiraling.”

Alexei: “You are like my cousin Dimitri. He pretended to be own wife to win Facebook argument. Now he is married to himself in three countries.”

Bob: “I JUST WANTED PROOF HE’S REAL.”

Ava: “So you became him?!”

Bob: softly “It felt right.”

Yelena, determined to end this mess, pulled out her phone.

“Fine. If Ben is real, FaceTime him.”

You blinked. “He’s in Canada. No signal.”

“He emailed Bucky from Gmail, he has signal.”

You floundered. “He… doesn’t like video chats?”

“He’s a grown man, not Bigfoot!”

You made a wild grab for your phone to stall, but it was too late.

Yelena hit “FaceTime.”

The screen rang once.

Twice.

Then—someone picked up.

A man appeared.

Early 30s. Flannel shirt. Confused as hell.

“…Hello?”

Yelena blinked. “Is this Ben?”

The man squinted. “Uh. Yeah?”

BOB HAD HIRED A GUY FROM THE PET STORE.

He mouthed frantically behind the screen: “Please help, I’ll Venmo you $20.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “What’s [Y/N]’s favorite snack?”

The man panicked. “…Granola bars?”

You gasped. “OH MY GOD HE’S GOOD.”

Yelena nearly screamed.

—

Later that night, Bucky made you reenact the email in a dramatic reading.

You: “She’s not interested in you.”

Bucky, hands on his heart: “Devastating.”

You: “Even though you are muscly and brooding.”

Bucky: “That’s… my Tinder bio now.”

You: “I can’t believe he dragged the pet store guy into this.”

Bucky smirked. “Should we send ‘Ben’ a thank-you basket?”

You kissed his cheek. “We should send Bob therapy.”

—

Bob was sitting alone in his room. Lights off. Hoodie up.

He opened his email again. Drafted another:

“Dear Bucky,

I have reconsidered. You are very handsome.

Please treat her right.

Sincerely,

Ben Smith. Who is now at peace.”

He hit send. Then whispered: “Goodbye, my love.”

Behind him, Meryl crawled onto his lap and squeaked.

There were three certainties in life:

Death

Taxes

Ava Starr’s hyperfixation once she opened Google Slides

It started with a simple title:

"This Is Why [Y/N] Is Lying: A Multimedia Breakdown" By: Ava Starr, Ph.D. (Not really, but emotionally)

Slide 1:

A graph titled “Flirtation Trajectory” It showed a 600% increase in eyebrow raises between Bucky and you since Month 1

Slide 2:

A quote: “No, Bucky, I have a boyfriend.” Followed by Bucky’s reply: “Well, I don’t see him.” Caption: GUILTLESS MENACE BEHAVIOR

Slide 3:

Security cam footage of Bucky tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear With slow-motion and emotional violin music overlayed

Slide 4:

A side-by-side photo comparison of Bob’s fan art of Ben Smith vs. the fake pet store guy Caption: THE LIES RUN DEEP

Fueled by the presentation and six espresso shots, Yelena initiated her next plan:

“Operation: Ransack Room (For Justice)”

John: “Maybe we should ask for consent—”

Yelena: “NO TIME.”

She broke into your room with a lock pick, flashlight, and an unhealthy amount of emotional vengeance.

Bob followed, muttering: “He probably smells like cedar and betrayal.”

Inside, they found:

A toothbrush (unlabeled)

A hoodie that was very much not yours (gray, smells like pine soap and sin)

Two mugs. One said “Bucky.” The other said “Still not Ben.”

Yelena held up the hoodie. “This is proof.”

Bob sniffed it. Immediately burst into tears.

Back at the gym, you and Bucky were in full gremlin mode.

You: “Okay, today I’ll dramatically drop my phone and Bucky will catch it midair and call me sweetheart.”

Bucky: “And I’ll give you my water bottle after a workout like it’s a rom-com.”

You: “They’ll combust.”

Bucky: “They deserve it.”

You pulled him into a corner, giggling. “God, we’re awful.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Awfully good at this.”

Bob, emotionally hanging on by one last ferret thread, received a voicemail while hiding behind a ficus.

Voicemail from Unknown Number:

“Hey. This is Ben. Just wanted to say… I know you’ve been looking out for her. That’s cool. But I’ve got it from here. You can let go now, buddy.”

Bob stared at his phone.

Yelena: “Are you okay?”

Bob: whispers “He sounds perfect.”

Ava, from behind a laptop: “This is psychological warfare.”

John: “Honestly, I’m kind of rooting for them now?”

Ava: “TRAITOR.”

Yelena finally snapped when Bucky handed you a protein bar mid-mission and you said:

“Aww. Just how I like it—nutty and a little intense.”

Ava SCREAMED into a pillow.

Bob started writing Ben fanfiction to cope.

Yelena stood up, eyes wild. “NO. I am DONE. We’re confronting her. NOW.”

John: “Should we call Val—”

Yelena: “NO TIME FOR RULES.”

There are many ways to go down in history. Some people discover cures. Some climb Everest. Some invent time travel.

Yelena Belova kicks down doors at 6:02 p.m. on a Wednesday.

And that… is how legends are born.

Yelena didn’t knock.

Ava didn’t hesitate.

John didn’t breathe.

Bob was holding a foam baseball bat labeled “Justice.”

They were ready.

This was it.

This was the confrontation.

Yelena: “[Y/N]! We need to—”

But she stopped.

Because…

Your hands were in Bucky’s hair. Your legs were around his waist. His shirt was somewhere on the floor. He was kissing you like the world was ending.

And you were definitely kissing him back.

Ava: Absolutely SCREECHES like a crow discovering Wi-Fi. Throws her arms up and yells, “I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT!” Points at Bucky like she just caught her boyfriend cheating on Jeopardy.

Yelena: Full Russian betrayal. Hands on hips. Squinting like you personally stabbed her. Shouts, “YOU HOME-WRECKING ENIGMA.”

Bob: GASPS. Clutches chest. Drops his foam bat. Falls to his knees. Meryl the ferret dramatically leaps out of his pocket like it, too, has been emotionally compromised.

John Walker: Mouth wide open. Whispers, “Bro… seriously?” like he just watched his buddy kiss his ex on live TV.

Alexei (from hallway with popcorn): “GET ‘EM, BUCKY! YOU DOG!” Everyone screams at him to SHUT UP.

You and Bucky pull apart mid-kiss, lips swollen, hair mussed.

You: “Okay, wait, I can explain—”

Bob: “YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

You: “I—”

Ava: “BEN SMITH DESERVES BETTER.”

You: “There IS NO BEN—”

Yelena: “LIAR. I MET HIM ON FACETIME.”

You: “THAT WAS A PET STORE EMPLOYEE BOB PAID $20—”

John: “Wait, what?”

Bob: “He had kind eyes…”

Bucky (still shirtless, smug): “She’s my girlfriend. Has been. For like, months.”

Dead silence.

You: “I told you I had a boyfriend—”

Yelena: “You didn’t say it was HIM!”

You: “I didn’t think I needed to clarify!”

Ava: “But—he flirts with you like he has NO morals!”

Bucky: “I do it to mess with you.”

Alexei (from the couch): “Ahahaha! He’s trolling you! Like the meme goblin!”

Bob (devastated): “...So Ben Smith… was never real?”

You gently shake your head.

Bob curls up on the floor.

Meryl sits on his chest like a mourning widow.

Ava sits on your floor with her head in her hands. “You let us think you were cheating on Ben Smith.”

You sit next to her. “You made up Ben Smith.”

She pauses. “Okay, yes. But still.”

Yelena paces the room. “You mean to tell me we went through eight levels of emotional breakdowns—PowerPoints, voicemails, hoodie sniffing—for nothing?!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Wait. Hoodie sniffing?”

John deadpans, “Bob did it. Not me.”

Bob mumbles from the floor, “I just needed a sense of closure.”

You: “We didn’t mean to hide it to hurt you guys. We just liked having something for ourselves. A secret. In this chaos.”

Bucky: “And it was fun watching you all spiral.”

Yelena: “I feel… so stupid.”

You: “You made a literal CIA board in the kitchen. With red string.”

Ava: “…We still have it up. It’s titled ‘Operation Homewrecker.’”

Bob: “I wrote poems.”

John: “I didn’t do anything. Can I have a cookie?”

Alexei walks in and hands him one. No one questions it.

Yelena drinks an entire bottle of sparkling water angrily.

Ava mutters “homewrecker” under her breath like it’s a religious chant.

Bob makes a new mug that says “Justice For Ben.”

John eats four more cookies and watches everyone lose it like he’s at a zoo.

Alexei wants to re-enact the moment as a play. Nobody allows this.

You and Bucky just sit on the couch, holding hands, smugly.

—

BONUS LITTLE ADDITION !!

It begins with a single whisper. From the depths of the mission van, Bob mutters:

“I think… I think they broke up.”

You and Bucky had been too quiet lately. No stolen kisses. No obnoxious flirting. No shared water bottles or smirking hand-holds.

Instead? Cold. Distant. Professional.

Yelena immediately noticed.

Ava made a new slide deck titled “The Decline of Love: A Relationship Post-Mortem”

John called Val to ask if he should “send a card or something.”

Bob cried.

Meryl wore a black ribbon.

Mission: Accomplished.

Bucky played it up like a telenovela.

He sat in the corner of the Quinjet with a far-off stare, dramatically whispering things like:

“Love is a battlefield… and I lost.”

“She’s happier without me. I must let her fly.”

“I saw her smile at the microwave this morning. She’s moved on.”

You?

You sighed wistfully at your phone. Typed random things like:

“Sometimes people grow apart.” “Maybe we were too intense.” “He never liked oatmeal anyway.”

You even teared up ON PURPOSE when Alexei asked if you wanted his extra soup dumpling.

Bob passed you a tissue. “Ben would’ve never let this happen.”

You didn’t correct him.

Eventually, the team couldn’t take it.

Yelena cornered you in the kitchen, eyes blazing. “YOU CAN’T LET LOVE DIE LIKE THIS.”

Ava stood behind her holding a literal pamphlet titled: “Getting Back Your Ex: A Thunderbolts Guide to Love and Vengeance”

Bob was already mid-sob, curled in Meryl’s tiny ferret hammock.

John showed up with a Spotify playlist called “Sad But Hot.”

You tried not to laugh. Bucky was upstairs texting you:

"Bob just slipped me a note that says 'you deserve happiness.'"

You:

"Ava just offered me her VPN so I can stalk your socials without judgment."

Bucky:

"I miss us 😔💔"

You:

"Meet me in 5. Closet. Let’s kiss dramatically again."

—

Yelena and Ava followed you.

John and Bob snuck behind them. (John held Meryl like a tiny emotional support therapist.)

They rounded the corner…

...and caught you.

AGAIN.

Bucky had you pinned to the closet wall, hands on your hips, your mouth on his, laughing mid-kiss.

You both froze like two kids caught sneaking cookies.

Yelena: “ARE YOU—AGAIN!?!?”

Ava: “SO THE BREAKUP—”

You: “FAKE.”

Bucky: “Flawless.”

Bob: aggressively gasps “YOU PLAYED US?!”

John: (quietly, with awe) “They’re menaces.”

The team, fully betrayed a second time in less than a week, sat in the kitchen like war veterans.

Yelena chugged an energy drink with tears in her eyes.

Ava deleted the breakup slide deck and replaced it with one titled: “Love Is Dead: AND SO IS MY TRUST.”

Bob threw the “Welcome Back Ben” balloon out the window.

Meryl chewed through the ribbon on it first.

John updated the team Spotify to include “Lovers Lying (Acoustic Version).”

You and Bucky? Cackling in your shared room, wrapped in blankets and each other.

Bucky: “We’re terrible people.”

You: “Terrible, hot, deeply in love people.”

He kisses your nose. “We should fake break up again next week.”

You laugh. “I’ll cry in front of Bob this time. Really sell it.”

Outside the door, Bob drops a mug that says “Teamwork Makes the Dream Hurt.”

He runs.

Meryl follows.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Should we stop?”

You shake your head. “Never.”

(You've got mail!) AAAAAAAAAAA.

Tags @bbsbrina

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Flirting with Disaster

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)

Summary: You're about to go on the first real date you’ve had in years, and the nerves are hitting hard. So, you turn to the one person who might help: Peter Parker, your brother’s best friend.

Word Count: Roughly 1.5k 

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety around dating, mentions of insecurities, unrequited/complicated feelings, cringe-worthy moments

Note: I’m planning on making this a three-part or a four-part. Let’s see. Oh, and I've been away from my usual shenanigans, so I am going to post twice this weekend :)

Part 2

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand, as if looking at it too long might make it spontaneously combust. The flutter in your stomach definitely wasn’t from hunger. 

No, tonight was the night—a real date. A proper date with an actual guy. 

And the thought of it had you wanting to crawl under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist.

Your friends were all in your corner, practically sending you a virtual pep squad of texts: You got this! Go for it, girl! But deep down? You felt more like a deer in headlights. Spiraling towards your impending doom.

You weren’t ready. Mentally? Nope. Emotionally? Not even close. Physically? Definitely not.

Flirting? Kissing? Oh God. It felt like you were about to attempt something far more complicated than rocket science, like you needed a PhD in how to act normally around a guy just to get through the night. And if anything even remotely intimate was on the horizon? Yeah, that sent you straight back to high school, where you could barely look at a guy without tripping over your own feet.

Talking to your brother about this? No way. He’d send you a full PowerPoint presentation on how awkward you were, followed by an Excel spreadsheet of potential embarrassing scenarios. Your mom? She’d tell you how beautiful you were and then proceed to give you every single detail of her first date with your dad, including the color of the sweater she wore and the exact type of pasta they had.

Which left you with one option.

Peter.

Peter freakin’ Parker.

He’d been your brother’s best friend since before you could remember. Still, somewhere along the way, he’d gone from being that cocky, arrogant, too-cool-for-school guy and literal genius whose favorite pass time was annoying you to someone who made your heart do a little flip every time he looked at you. The messy hair. The cocky grin. The snarky vibe that screamed I’m cooler than you, and you were just you. Awkward. Nerdy. And definitely, the girl who’d had an intense crush on him when you were younger, an embarrassing crush at that. But, for the record, you had mostly gotten over.

Mostly.

But now, with the date creeping closer and your nerves flaring up like fireworks in your chest, you were desperate. You needed help.

So you hit dial.

“Hey, little peach.” His voice slid through the phone like melted chocolate, smooth and warm, and the kind that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t know how to process.

“Hi, Peter,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, trying and failing miserably.

“Long time, no talk. What’s up?” His voice was laced with that familiar mischief, the one that hinted he knew something was off but was enjoying every second of the suspense. “Don’t tell me you burned down your kitchen trying to make some sad excuse for pasta and now you’re too embarrassed to call the fire department? Because, if so, I’ll happily dress up as a fireman and fulfill that fantasy for you.”

You stammered, and he laughed. Loudly.

“You’re hilarious, asshole,” you grumbled.

“I try.” He chuckled. You could practically hear his smirk. “So what’s the emergency? Need bail money? Lemme see, petty theft? Destruction of public property? Actually, scratch that, even you wouldn’t pull something like that, peach.”

Peach. That damn nickname. It hit you like a sucker punch of nostalgia. You remembered summers spent trailing behind him and your brother, trying to act like you were calm and cool while you tripped over your own feet just trying to keep up with them.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to sound like you had it together. “Uh, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Peter’s tone shifted instantly, a little more serious now. “Everything okay? You’re not in actual trouble, right?”

Panic crept up your spine. Why had you called him? This was so stupid. But here you were, spilling your guts anyway.

“Uh, yes. No. I mean…” You sighed, your voice wavering. “I have a date,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. “It’s tonight. And I’m freaking out. Like majorly.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, that unmistakable chuckle, the one that made you want to punch him. “Wait. Hold on. You? Freaking out about a date? I didn’t know you had it in you little miss awkward. You?” His voice dragged out the last word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the support, asshole,” you muttered. “You’re just gonna mock me, aren’t you? This was a waste of time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, regretting the entire call. You were better off canceling the date and hiding in your apartment with a Netflix binge and a pint of ice cream.

This was just as humiliating.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mumbled. “Bye-”

“Hey, hey,” Peter interrupted. His tone softened, just a little. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? But you know I can’t help it.”

You huffed, but something in his voice made you hesitate.

“But seriously, you? Nervous?” His voice was almost affectionate now, though he still sounded like he was having way too much fun with this. “Baby, you’re smart, you’re funny when you try, and last time I checked, you grew up gorgeous. What’s there to be nervous about, hm?”

Your heart did that weird skip thing, and you cursed your traitorous body. Baby.

He didn’t even know what he was doing to you when he said it. He said it like it was nothing—like it didn’t even matter. But it hit you harder than it should’ve. 

"Easy for you to say," you snapped back, but even as you tried to sound annoyed, there was a softness creeping into your voice. “It’s been forever since, you know, I’ve had to, like, flirt or kiss or whatever. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

There was a long pause. Then, Peter’s voice came through, low and laced with mischief. “Wait a second. Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt? I’m honored, peach.”

“What? No!” You nearly dropped the phone in your panic. “I…wait! No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, but now I have to,” Peter said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Come over. I’ll help you practice. Flirting, kissing, whatever you need.”

You gaped at the phone, heat rushing to your face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, peach,” he continued a dangerous lilt in his tone. “You used to trust me with everything. Like that time you tried to ride my skateboard when you were, what, ten? You ate it so bad I thought your brother was gonna faint. But I carried you home, dried your tears, and made you laugh instead of cry. You know I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, cringing at the memory. You’d been ten, desperate to prove you weren’t just the annoying little sister of his best friend. You’d failed miserably, but Peter hadn’t laughed at you. Well, at least, not until after he made sure you were fine.

"Oh my god," you muttered, cringing at the thought. "I was a mess back then."

Peter’s voice softened, but that smirk was still there. "You were adorable, though. Adorable," he teased, his voice dripping with something almost affectionate. "Especially with those rainbow bandages on your knees. I swear, I could’ve sold tickets to that disaster."

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“So, come on over,” he pressed. “I’ll give you a crash course. I’m talking flirting 101, kissing for dummies, the whole shebang. You can thank me later.”

You bit your lip, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were blushing from memory or how his words made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a second. This was ridiculous. 

"Peach, you still with me?" His voice broke through your thoughts. "What's your decision?"

But you sighed, giving in. “Alright,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good girl,” Peter purred into the phone, and you froze. His voice sent a shock through your system that left you breathless. Suddenly, the whole flirting crash course didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You knew he was messing with you, but it didn’t stop your skin from flushing.

You stared at your phone, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

Peter Parker was going to help you with your love life. No big deal, right?

You weren’t that kid anymore. You definitely didn’t have a crush on Peter Parker.

“Don’t give me that look,” you glared at your stuffed animal as it silently judged you with its big brown eyes. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Mostly.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[woso-dreamzzz]

The Talk II

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda's Powerpoint

It's probably the worst thing you've ever suffered through.

Next to you, Pernille has to smother her laughter as you slouch lower and lower in your seat.

The first part you already knew about. The actual act of sex was something you'd covered a while ago in biology so that was basically like a study session.

The next stuff you'd rather not learn about from your Morsa but Magda was nothing if not thorough as she went through slide after slide of sex positions and how it worked between two girls.

It was traumatising and you could do nothing but stare at the screen in abject horror.

"Alright," Pernille says when Magda gets particularly passionate about one part and you look like you want to melt into a puddle of nothingness next to her," Why don't we take a break for lunch and finish this later?"

"Oh, but, Pernille I was just getting to the part about-"

"That's a great idea, Momma!" You're up like a shot, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to get away.

"But Pernille-"

"Come on, Magda," Pernille laughs, gently pulling Magda to the kitchen," Give her some time to compute what she's just been told. We've never had a conversation like this with her before."

"Is it informative enough? I think I left something off and I don't want her-"

"Yes, Magda," Pernille says," Plenty informative. You're doing a great job. Princesse, get your fingers out of that jar!"

You huff a little, pushing the jar of nutella away as you lift yourself up onto the counter.

"You know," Magda says, suddenly straight back into lecture mood," Some people like to incorporate-"

"La-La-La!" You say quickly, slamming your fingers into your ears. "I can't hear you!"

Pernille rolls her eyes fondly at you both as Magda attempts to wrench your fingers away.

"Alright you two," She says," Food. Eat."

You practically inhale your food while Magda follows at a more leisurely pace.

"Hey, where are you going?" Magda asks as you hastily put your plate in the sync and attempt to escape upstairs. "We're not finished yet."

"I...er..." You stumble over your words trying to find an excuse. "I've got homework!"

"No you don't. You finished it all before going out with Frido."

"Er..."

Pernille is no help to you, looking down at her plate smiling as you scramble to think of another excuse.

"I'm nearly done anyway," Magda continues," Just give me a sec."

The second time is just as painful as the first as you sit, tense on the sofa, as Magda walks you through sex toys, something that you really didn't need your own mother to teach you about.

But she does it anyway and you know she's doing it because she loves you in her own weird way.

But, still, you don't think you needed the printed out sheet of the list of sites that explored all the nitty gritty of STDs.

It was nice that she printed it but you're pretty sure pinning the sheet to your notes board will ruin the whole aesthetic of it.

"Any questions?"

Magda looks immensely proud of herself, chest puffed out in pride as she comes to the end of the PowerPoint she spent all day working on.

You sit there, bright red, unable to do anything but stare at the little animated hand waving on her questions slide.

"Er...no...That was very...informative."

"Oh...wait! I forgot!"

Magda clicks to what must be her last slide and you groan loudly.

'Remember! The key to a good life is abstinence!'

"That's so hypocritical!" You exclaim," You and Momma have sex all the time!"

"That's different. You're our baby. I don't want you having sex."

"You just made a whole PowerPoint about sex!"

"Yes. Because I don't want you doing it."

You turn to Pernille, gesturing wildly as you sputter.

"I know," She says, patting your head," But just smile and nod. She'll drop it sooner or later."

[stumpyjoepete]

Thinking a bit more about Megalopolis (see prev post). It's not really the case that the script is as disjointed or schizophrenic as my post makes it out to be. The central plot is pretty simple: an egotistical city planner has an ambitious and futuristic vision for redeveloping the city, and he butts heads with the Mayor and others who oppose him in this. He ultimately succeeds in building his utopian "megalopolis". Everyone is happy, the end.

And yet.

There's this... intense centrifugal force that prevents everything from cohering into a unified whole. It's like a puzzle where all the pieces are cut from the same picture, but upon closer inspection, no two pieces quite fit together. Or like that collection of nonsensical objects. A fork where the tines and the handle are connected by a chain. A watering can with the spout facing the wrong way. A quick glance leaves you confused, and that confusion is only deepened by further contemplation.

I think this is especially clear in the pseudo-intellectualism of the title cards, narration, monologues, and quotations/references:

Laurence Fishburne does this heavy-handed narration at the beginning and end of the movie (and several random points in between). And there are these associated title cards that look like they were made by applying an "Ancient Rome" theme to some PowerPoint slides. "Or will we too fall victim, like old Rome, to the insatiable appetite for power of a few men?" My brother in Christ, you are making a movie where the hero is named Cesar, and the happy ending is when he successfully pulls a Robert Moses. This is not a story about power corrupting or good intentions going awry. What are you doing???

Cesar Catilina interrupts Mayor Cicero's speech (where he is introducing a plan to build a casino) in order to lay out an early plan for "megalopolis", which is an ambitious and long-term alternative to the (short-term) casino plan. He prefaces his megalopolis pitch by reciting the Hamlet soliloquy. What exactly does Coppola think "To Be Or Not To Be" is about? He must thinks it means, "I am a dark and brooding bad-boy intellectual", since it's hard to see how "I'd like to kill myself, but I fear death" fits into an argument about the importance of long-term thinking in urban planning.

Cesar says several negative things about "civilization". "[Imagine] humanity as an old tree with one misguided branch called civilization... going nowhere." (Shot of notebook shows an illustration with 'war' and 'cruelty' offshoots from said branch.) "Emerson said the end of the human race will be that we'll eventually die of civilization." (Note: unsourced, probably fake quote.) "Civilization itself remains the great enemy of mankind." Umm... you're an urban planner! You're doing a high modernism. What exactly does it mean for you to call civilization the enemy? Is "megalopolis" somehow anti-civilization because it looks like a Georgia O'Keefe painting instead of a bunch of straight lines and right angles? Will the "war" and "cruelty" branches wither and die when buildings have labia?

Also, there's this amazing line read that completely inverts the meaning of a fake Marcus Aurelius quote (the quote was attributed to him by Tolstoy but is not actually something he said). "The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape... finding yourself in the ranks of the insane." Why did you put in that pause??? Fake Marcus Aurelius is turning in his grave! You're supposed to be fleeing FROM the ranks of the insane! I suppose this isn't really inconsistent with the characterization of Cesar, it's just such a fucking batshit thing to say.

All of the cargo-cult intellectualism listed above could perhaps be excused if the vision that the film is supposedly about had any content whatsoever. Or, alternatively, if the movie was about something more substantive, and the vacuous megalopolis vision took place off-screen in an epilogue, like the "happily ever after" of a children's story. But no! The movie repeatedly interrupts the plot to grab you by the shoulders and scream in your face: "I have a vision! For the future!". And then--now that it has your undivided attention--it shits the bed like a man who has just polished off an entire bag of sugar-free gummy bears and washed them down with a fistful of Ambien:

"Conversation isn't enough. It's the questions that lead it to the next step. But initially, you have to have a conversation. The city itself is immaterial, but they're talking about it for the first time. And it's not just about us talking about it. It's the need to talk about it. It's as urgent to us as air and water."

"Mr. Catalina, you said that as we jump into the future, we should do so unafraid. But what if when we do jump into the future, there is something to be afraid of?" "Well, there's nothing to be afraid of if you love, or have loved. It's an unstoppable force. It's unbreakable. It has no limits. It's within us. It's around us. And it's stretched throughout time. It's nothing you can touch. Yet it guides every decision that we make. But we do have the obligation to each other to ask questions of one another. What can we do? Is this society, is this way we're living, the only one that's available to us? And when we ask these questions, when there's a dialogue about them, that basically is a utopia."

After the revolution, we won't have conflicts anymore; we'll have dialogue instead. We won't have a need for the "jobs" and "sanitation" of "now"; we'll have the "imperishable" "dreams" of "forever". We won't have problems that need solving; we'll all be too busy asking each other questions. Now, if everyone could just shut up and get the hell out of the way and let Cesar implement his vision, then "everyone" will soon be "creating together, learning together, perfecting body and mind." A chorus of children's voices gradually morphing into Laurence Fishburne's, chanting, "One Earth, indivisible, with long life, education and justice for all." It's eschatological anti-politics made entirely from cotton candy. Please, for the love of God, stop making Adam Driver monologue at me! Let's get back to Aubrey Plaza stepping on horny fascist Shia LaBeouf!

The incoherence of Megalopolis's vision is compounded by how anachronistic its depiction of our fallen world is. There are some half-hearted (and ham-fisted) gestures in the Clodio sub-plot towards the dangers of Trumpian populism, but the script was first written in the 80's, and it's extremely obvious that Coppola is writing about New York City in the preceding several decades. The city's finances are in dire straights. (There's literally a "Ford Tells City: Drop Dead" reference!) The city is full of slums, the streets are full of crime, and the elites are all decadent. (For Coppola, decadence means that ladies are doing cocaine and smooching each other in the cluh-ub.) The main character is Neo-Roman Robert Moses, and the conflict of the film is about urban renewal. In case you, like Mr. Coppola, have not been made aware, slum clearance is not a major political issue in 2020's Manhattan.

Two thirds of the way through the movie, a falling Soviet satellite provides a deus ex machina, blowing up the financial district and clearing space for megalopolis to take its place. Ironically, a previous attempt to produce the film came to its abrupt end when two planes flew into some buildings in the financial district. Perhaps you heard about it. The financial backers of the film at the time considered Megalopolis's plot a bit too close to current events for comfort and withdrew their support.

But Coppola's depiction of Manhattan was already decades out of date by then. Moses stepped down in '60. Jacobs' book railing against urban renewal came out in '61. The Power Broker came out in '74. One presumes popular opinion of Robert Moses soured in the following years. The crisis of the city's finances that peaked in '75 was over by '81 when NYC balanced its budget and reentered the bond market. The crime wave of the 70's and 80's had receded by the year 2000. The demand for housing in NYC proper is as high as it ever has been, and it's only getting higher. Megalopolis imagines America as an incoherent mishmash of several decades of mid-century NYC, dressed up in the toga of the late Roman Republic, calling out for (Robert) Moses to part the slums and take us into a promised land that is literally beyond any description, and whose only concrete feature seems to be glowing people-movers.

A Robert Moses with the power to stop time, at that!

Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Cesar discovers he has the power to stop time in the opening scene of the film. I forgot because it's literally irrelevant to the plot. Time stops a few times, and then it starts back up again, and the events of the film just plod inexorably forward. For a movie as temporally dislocated as Metropolis, perhaps that's just as well.

[justvessel]

approval [Lucanis x Rook headcanon]

DATV Masterlist | Main Navigation

little hc for when Lucanis decided he wants to make Rook a Dellamorte

heavy spoiler warning

word count: ~700

warnings: typical crow things slightly mentioned

used they/them for Rook

The demon of Vyrantium, first Talon, slayer of Ghilan’nain, hero of the Veilguard - Lucanis hold many names, but one of them was Catarina Dellamortes favourite.

She is a strict and prideful woman, who led the antivan crows by respect and cruelty. A way to prepare especially her two grandsons for the burden life would bring as a crow and to ensure her heir (and their survival but that would be a bit too sentimental to speak out loud).

Lucanis always had the feeling that nothing he could do would be enough to please her. Nothing would live up to her legacy, no matter how hard he tried. But indeed, it was her, who thought nothing could ever be enough for him. Nothing would satisfy her when it came to Lucanis. She lost almost all of her children and grandchildren, of course she was protective of Lucanis and Illario in her very own way, which leads us to the following situation.

The world is saved, Rook and Lucanis finally spoke about their feelings (like really admitting everything after the weight of the world's fate lifted from their shoulders and they could finally take a long needed nap), but Lucanis knew that it won’t get easier. He thinks of himself as a complicated and dangerous man with an even more complicated and dangerous life and yet Rook did nothing but accept everything and stayed by his side. He knew, if they’d let him, he would take their hand in marriage straight away but there is one thing holding him back (and it’s definitely not Spite).

Catarina’s approval.

He barely received approval, even for the simplest matters, but choosing his life long partner as the now first talon…

Now imagine Lucanis who is sure he’d never find someone like Rook again, and he would never want to even try, not after he had almost lost them. Rook, a person that would share everything with him, and would still loot at him like he’s the most precious thing they have ever seen, because that’s exactly how he looks at them. Spite who clings onto them like a lifeline. Both of them who fell in love like the very first second they got them out of the Ossuary. Despite all the risks and dangers (Let's be honest, being the partner of the first Talon, people would definitely try to use Rook against him), he wants to make it official. So when Lucanis asks his grandmother for a coffee at Pietra’s he’s sure she will decline his request, but he will try. He will show Catarina how important Rook is to him. So they sit down, have their usual check up and formalities and before Lucanis can even ask her, before he can start his literal powerpoint on why Rook would be the perfect addition to the Dellamorte house, Catarina does nothing but pull the opal ring of his mother out, the ring she had once given to show her favor, and hand it him. The usual thin line of her lips slightly curved up. You could almost misinterpret it as a smile, and Lucanis takes the ring with the highest gratitude he felt in a while. The weight of his shoulders was gone. “Grazie mille” is all he can say and Catarina nods. She knew from the very first beginning that Rook could be enough. Not because of them being slayer of Elgar’nan, not because of them choosing Treviso over their own city (my rook was a shadow dragon), not because of them putting together the Veilguard, not because of their strength, not because they saved the freakin’ world. No, simply because they saved her grandson in so many ways possible. She sees how Lucanis lights up as soon as Rook walks into the room and she’s once reminded how it felt to be truly in love, to feel like nothing else matters but the person in front of you. How could she not approve the happiness of her favourite, when it could be so easy.

[rieamena]

“ UBI AMOR, IBI DOLOR ”

nanami kento .

contains: fluff if you're a real lover, angst if you're normal

word count: 1.6k

riea's comments: yk what's so funny guys, that really takuma work i've been talking about for the past few months or so, wypamn, yeah that one, its scrapped lmaooo lets all laugh. oh, that's not funny? oh, okay. anyways, here's something i wrote for it a while back, i hope you like it and THIS is my comeback work okay? NOT my clover. also, special shoutout to the loves of my lives, @mayyhaps and @chericos. i heart yall

you climbed into your car with a shaky exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it might ground you. the engine roared to life under your touch, and you tapped in satoru’s location on the gps with more force than necessary. the route lit up in bright blue, the estimated time mocking you like it somehow knew this night was going to be an ordeal

seriously—what the hell had gotten into kento? of all the people he could’ve called, invited out, confided in… it had to be satoru? and then on top of that, he drank himself nearly unconscious? kento, who once got drunk enough to reenact one of the scenes from his series in shakespearean english, apparently decided tonight was the night to spiral. and with him of all people

the tires hummed as you sped through dimly lit city streets, traffic lights smearing into streaks of red and green through your windshield. the night air hung heavy, pressing in through the crack in your window as you took sharp turns, your mind racing faster than your car. your jaw clenched with every block. if this was some elaborate setup for satoru to make you watch a 40-minute powerpoint-slash-conspiracy video titled " nanami kento is NOT the man you think he is", you were going to walk on the road and pray a car hits you

your phone pinged with a message just as you pulled into the curb:

satoru (sent 2 mins ago):

we're at bar ten. he's been talking about u for like 30 minutes straight and it's getting EMBARRASSING. pls hurry before he recites poetry

satoru (sent just now):

update: he just called your laugh "unfairly pretty" and now he's talking to a bottle of gin

you turned off the engine, sighing again

bar ten had that kind of music that never committed to a real genre. the bass was soft, almost pretending it wasn't there, and the conversations floated over it like bubbles waiting to pop. you scanned the room and spotted them quickly—suguru sitting in a booth with satoru clinging onto him comfortably, hands running through the others hair. kento was slouched across from them with his head tipped back, glasses discarded on the table before him and eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the correct answer to every bad decision he'd ever made

you approached slowly. suguru caught sight of you first, raising a brow and gesturing toward the table like, please deal with this

"kento?" you called softly, sliding into the seat next to him. it took a few shakes of his shoulder for him to realize someone else was there—you were there. you've only seen him get this drunk once before: a random night a few years ago. somehow the idea of a drinking competition filled the air and every bottle known to man was scattered across kento's kitchen island. little did he know, you had switched out your alcoholic beverages for water, but he was too dazed to realize. so while he drank and drank, you watched on

big, strong arms (though it seemed a considerable amount of their strength was gone) enveloped your frame, "my wife!"

it was a nickname he hadn't used since you were kids. "i want to be your husband when we're older! and you will be my wife! if you want to, of course…" a five-year-old kento said to you bashfully on a spring day at the park, weeds that he thought were flowers clenched in his outstretched fist. the name kept up for a couple of years but you never knew the reason why he stopped

"my wife is here! oh, how i've missed you." his speech was slurred, a result of downing a few bottles of whiskey, rum, and gin—it's a miracle that he's still conscious. his grip got even tighter on you as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, "ken?... ken? let's go home." feeling his head shift up and down and his soft breaths on your neck, you gathered all of your strength and lifted off the seat, managing to get him all the way to your car and relaxed in the front seat

by the time you pulled into your building's garage, the city had gone still. not quiet, but softer. as if everything outside had agreed to pause, just for a while. kento didn't ask which floor, didn't ask where to put his shoes, didn't hesitate before settling on the couch like it was his apartment

because it basically was. he'd been coming over since the two of you were kids—after school, after breakups, after shitty college nights where neither of you wanted to talk about what went wrong. this place had always been an anchor. and you never questioned letting him in

you poured a glass of water, eyeing him from the kitchen. "suguru's a menace," he slurred, ridding himself of his blazer and tie with a grunt. "and satoru's louder now than he was at sixteen, how is that possible?"

you cracked a smile, setting the glass on the coffee table. "i ask myself that every time i see him."

kento chuckled—a real one. then it twisted into something sadder. "they're good, though. together, i mean. they make sense. like puzzle pieces. even the jagged parts."

you sat beside him, not too close, but close enough to provide comfort—provide something. he seemed to be sobering up a little bit—after all, alcohol never stayed in his system for long. his eyes shut closed, like he was dissociating but he could feel everything: the cool air from the slightly open window, the fabric of his pants and collared shirt uncomfortably brushing against his skin like it wasn't supposed to do that, the flurry of words dedicated to you that might be impossible to string together even if given the chance, words that were accumulated over years of watching, waiting.

"i loved you before i even knew what that meant," he whispered. "i used to count how many times you said my name in a day. like an idiot."

"you remember that one summer," he continued, "when your ac broke and we just laid on the floor with popsicles all day? you were wearing that stupid tank top with the cartoon frogs."

you smiled, aching. "i remember."

"i couldn't even look at you without getting lightheaded."

he paused, "still can't."

he finally opened his eyes. they were glassy but clear enough to look right at you. right through you.

"i tried to date other people. i tried to un-feel it. but it's you. it's always been you."

you reached out, brushed your fingers against his hand. he caught them. he always did.

"i'm drunk," he said, voice cracking, "and this is unfair to you. but if i don't say it now, i never will."

the room fell silent for a while, heavy with the words spoken and those that didn't need to be. you'd thought kento had dozed off, the exhaustion and alcohol mixing,

but then softly—so softly it could've been mistaken for a sigh—he said:

"you looked too good in white."

you glanced down. his head was on your shoulder, but his eyes were open now, staring at nothing. he swallowed thickly, voice lower. "i told myself i could handle it. that it was just a shoot. just a fake wedding. but then you kissed me in that last shot—like it meant something—and i… i lost."

that shoot was for suguru's moonlight wine collection. you and kento were styled in wedding attire, with matching rings, a high-end ballroom, and a script that called for authentic intimacy. you didn't have to dig far, and it seems… neither did he.

kento pulled away slightly to sit up, rubbing his face. someone unfamiliar with him wouldn't have noticed, but you're his best friend, the one he loves. of course you noticed the slight change in his mannerisms, how he trembled, and how his khakis turned color when he stared downwards. and all it took was a comforting rub on his back to break the dam that was kento's bottled up emotions. he choked on his sobs—fighting everything possible to keep it together, to not completely break down.

"i've been in love with you for most of my life," he said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face but he never made an attempt to wipe them away. like it was his sin, his punishment, something he deserved for keeping it in for this long. "and then i had to stand under that damn arbor, with cameras on us, and look at you like you were mine… when you never were."

the memory flashed—your hand in his, his thumb tracing your knuckles between posing directions like it was muscle memory. the way his eyes never left you, even after the photographer called for a break. kento exhaled. "and i know you've got… everything. people who adore you. a world that spins with you at its center. but for one second that day, i let myself pretend."

"and then," he continued, almost laughing now, "the articles dropped. 'the most believable love story of the season,' they said. 'if you told us they were secretly together, we'd believe it.' and i thought, god, if only they knew how much i wished it were true."

kento has never experienced a first love or a first love. all he knows is a first love, and he's lost her.

for i am a fool, bound by the shackles of unrequited love.

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath @atigerandabear

@russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @inoluvrr @1ndee

@yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd @e-dollly

@ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode @baekhyunsbestie

@vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[personthingsblog]

Ok,this is going to be like really random

Ok so like one day Raf, was helping bee with something and out of nowhere like Raf asked bee ‘’Where do Cybertronian babies come from?” And the entire base froze.Arcee choked on energon. Ratchet dropped his datapad, shattering it for the third time that week. Bumblebee made a series of panicked beeps that translated loosely to, OH PRIMUS WHY. Wheeljack choked on nothing at all, which was somehow more dramatic. Bulkhead walked straight into a wall and Smokescreen, who was trying to appear mature and responsible for once, turned so red in the faceplates it looked like he was overheating. “WHAT!?”

And Optimus... blinked.

And miko was like ‘’I knew this day would come , DIDN’T THINK he ACTUALLY ASK IT OUT LOUD,‘’ while grinning ear to ear like this was the best day of her life. And jack was like:👁️👄👁️ ,while slowly backing away. And Raf immediately regretting asking that question

And ratchet pulled out a slideshow(don’t ask where that came from) about that question

The first slide featured glowing images of the AllSpark, the Well of All Sparks, and what looked suspiciously like a baby-shaped protoform.

Miko was writing furiously from a notebook she pulled out of thin air

Jack looked one PowerPoint away from jumping off a cliff.

And Raf was just trying to process it

“So basically,” Miko said, looking up, “you guys were just… spawned like DLC characters?”(bless miko) “No,” Ratchet growled. “We were not downloaded. There was a process. There were forges! And mentors! And cold, metal screaming!” “That sounds worse,” Raf muttered. Wheeljack nodded solemnly. “It was.” “And you all just come out fully built?” Jack asked. “No,” Bumblebee beeped. “We start as blank protoforms. Basic frame, minimal coding. It’s like being a baby but worse because everyone’s trying to shoot you.” “Wow,” Miko said. “So you’re telling me you were basically… robot toddlers with knives?” Everyone stared at her.

Then Smokescreen said, “Yeah, we are murderous babies”(ratchet threw a wrench at him)

An hour into the ‘educational’ talk, the room had descended into chaos. Ratchet was arguing with Wheeljack about how ‘spark chemistry’ was completely theoretical and ‘totally not romantic at all!’ Smokescreen was drawing diagrams. Bad ones. Arcee was threatening to stab someone if the word ‘merge’ was used one more time.Bulkhead had gone completely silent, hugging his knees in the corner.

“So wait,” Miko interrupted, looking very disturbed, “there’s like... no mommies or daddies?” “No,” Optimus said firmly. “Then how do you guys know who’s related to who?” Raf asked. “We… don’t. Not in the way you do,” Optimus admitted. “The concept of family is more… metaphorical.” “So basically,” Jack said slowly, “you were all made in a glowy magical pit, raised by your society, don’t have genders, don’t reproduce, and don’t date.”

“Correct.”

Miko threw her notebook on the floor. “This is BULLCRAP. I CAME HERE FOR ANSWERS, NOT EXISTENTIAL NIGHTMARES.” “I told you!” Jack yelled. “I told you we didn’t want to know!” “I THOUGHT THEY HAD A SECRET BABY FACTORY!” “We DO!” shouted Ratchet. “It’s called a forge! AND IT’S NOT CUTE!”

(The Aftermath of Regret)

Several hours later, the kids sat in absolute silence on the couch in the base lounge. No one spoke. No one moved. Jack’s eye twitched. Raf was cradling a blanket like it was the only thing keeping him from falling into madness. Miko was staring blankly into the middle distance, muttering things like “spark code synchronization” under her breath. Behind them, the bots were screaming at each other. “You showed them the diagnostic flowchart of a spark chamber!” Arcee yelled. “They asked!” Ratchet shouted. “I WAS TRYING TO BE HONEST!” And bee was burning the slideshow

(Pls don’t mind if this doesn’t make sense,I just write this cause there was like a werid question stuck in my head)

[woso-story]

Mila's First Real Crush

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x DaughterMila

Twelve-year-old Mila practically floats into the house, her cheeks pink and her eyes glowing in a way that only someone experiencing their first crush can pull off. She toes off her shoes a little too quickly, avoids eye contact, and mutters something about homework before darting down the hallway and into her room.

Ingrid, who had been chopping vegetables in the kitchen, arches a brow. She leans casually on the counter, watching the hallway like a hawk.

“She’s up to something,” she says, voice low.

Mapi looks up from her notebook, where she's been sketching a new tattoo design. She blinks, pen hovering mid-stroke. “What do you mean?”

Ingrid gestures vaguely after their daughter. “You didn’t see that? The blush? The lightning-fast retreat? That’s guilty behavior.”

Mapi shrugs. “Maybe she’s actually doing homework for once.”

Ingrid isn’t convinced. She narrows her eyes. “I’m watching her.”

---

Over the next few weeks, Ingrid’s suspicion grows with every small change. Mila hums when brushing her hair. She checks her phone more often. She starts spending hours at the park “just hanging out,” and she even starts picking out her clothes with actual effort.

Eventually, Mapi notices it too.

“She smiled at her phone,” Mapi whispers one evening, eyes wide. “That wasn't a meme smile. That was something different.”

They try asking her directly, one evening over dinner. Mila stabs at her mashed potatoes like they offended her and says, “Nothing’s going on. Everything’s normal.” She doesn’t look up once.

So, like any good parents, they do the obvious: they send in the reinforcements.

Alexia Putellas, football legend and favorite aunt, has a standing monthly cafe date with Mila. Mila doesn’t usually mind the questions about school or football or whether she’s been practicing her guitar. But this time, Alexia gives her that knowing look and goes straight in:

“All right, Mila. What’s going on?”

Mila hesitates. Her spoon stirs her hot chocolate in endless circles.

Alexia doesn’t look away.

Finally, Mila exhales and mumbles, “I like someone from my class.”

Alexia lights up with relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought you were gonna say you failed math or joined a cult.”

Mila laughs, then slouches. “I didn’t tell Mama and Mami.”

“Why not?”

“Mama would be chill. But Mami? She’d go into full football-defender mode. Asking a million questions. Staring them down. Maybe pull out that look she used on referees when they made a bad call.”

Alexia chuckles knowingly. “True. But Mila, they’re just worried. They love you. And you know what? You should tell them. They’ll understand. Especially if you do it before Mapi starts making PowerPoint presentations on what ‘normal teenage behavior’ looks like.”

Mila snorts. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll talk to them.”

That evening, Mila walks into the living room, where Ingrid and Mapi are half-watching a movie. She stands in front of them, hands twisting nervously.

“Can I talk to you?”

Ingrid immediately pauses the movie and pats the space between them. Mila curls up between her moms, and for a moment it’s quiet.

“I’ve been acting different. And I wanna tell you why,” Mila begins. “I… like someone from my class. And we’ve been spending time together. Just us two. It’s been really nice. I’m just… happy.”

Ingrid breaks into a soft smile and pulls her into a hug. “That’s wonderful, Mila. I’m so happy for you.”

Mila looks toward Mapi, who’s staring ahead, unmoving. Her face is unreadable.

“Mami?”

Mapi blinks. Her eyes are glossy.

“You okay?”

Mapi clears her throat. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just—” Her voice wavers. “It’s happening so fast. Yesterday you were watching cartoons and dressing Bagheera in princess dresses and now you’re… having your first crush?” She sniffles, wiping a tear away. “Soon you’ll be off to college. Then marrying someone. And I’ll only see you at Christmas.”

Mila wraps her arms around her. “I’ll always be your little girl, Mami.”

Mapi kisses the top of her head and holds her close.

As Mila gets up to go back to her room, Mapi calls after her, “I want to meet the boy, you hear me? Just so I can properly scare him.”

Mila pauses, turns around with a smirk, and raises a brow. “Who said anything about a boy?”

With a wink, she vanishes down the hall.

Mapi stares, processing. “Wait. No boy?”

Ingrid sees the wheels turning before Mapi even speaks. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across Mapi’s face.

“No boy,” she repeats, almost dreamily. “Of course not. She grew up surrounded by women’s football and queer aunts and rainbow everything. Why would she like boys?”

Ingrid bursts into laughter and pulls her wife into her arms.

“She’s still growing up,” Ingrid murmurs, kissing Mapi’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Mapi sighs. “But at least I don’t have to worry about a hormone-fueled teenage boy.”

They settle back into the couch, movie forgotten, their hearts full—equal parts joy, nostalgia, and a whole lot of love.

[sevasey51]

One night Jay and Will reveal to Connor just how unhinged and petty his wife can be when people cross her. Jay and will come with receipts and think it’s hilarious 😂

She’s Sweet… Until She’s Not

Summary: At Molly’s, Jay and Will reveal to a stunned but amused Connor just how petty and chaotic his wife can be when crossed—complete with stories of sabotage, strategic revenge, and a grudge notebook. Connor is both horrified and proud, realizing he married a tiny war general.

It was a rare Friday night where nobody was on shift—no code blues, no emergency surgeries, no last-minute warrants or patients crashing. Just a couple beers, too many fries, and good company at Molly’s. Connor sat at the high-top with his arm slung around your shoulder, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the salt on the rim of your glass. Jay and Will were across from you, deep in a debate about which of them had suffered the most public embarrassment courtesy of one petty, vengeful, and infuriatingly clever you.

Connor, completely unaware of what was coming, sipped his beer and tilted his head. “Wait—what are you two even talking about?”

Jay leaned forward, smirking. “Oh, we’re talking about your sweet wife and how she turns into a petty little war general when someone pisses her off.”

You gave Jay an innocent look, blinking slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” Will snorted. “Connor, I’m not exaggerating—she has a grudge journal. An actual notebook. Labeled. With color-coded sticky tabs.”

Connor nearly choked on his drink. “She what?”

“It’s adorable,” Jay deadpanned. “And terrifying. She’ll smile at you in the hallway while silently plotting your downfall.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. Connor slowly turned to look at you, now very interested.

Jay pulled out his phone. “You wanna see receipts?”

Connor blinked. “You have receipts?”

“Oh, do we,” Will said, sliding his phone across the table. “Remember when that nurse kept passive-aggressively moving her wheelchair bag out of the staff bathroom because it ‘took up too much space’? She got mysteriously assigned to every single code brown for three weeks straight. Weird.”

“She said it was coincidence,” you shrugged innocently. “I mean, staffing rotates…”

Jay leaned in. “And remember that paramedic who said she was too dramatic about endo pain? A week later, someone sent in an anonymous complaint about his parking violations, and suddenly he’s getting ticketed every shift. Wild how the system works.”

“I believe in accountability,” you said, sipping your drink with zero shame.

Will grinned. “She had a full PowerPoint ready when Med tried to cut her department’s supply budget. Literally titled ‘Congratulations, You Played Yourself.’ With memes.”

Jay added, “And don’t forget the iced coffee situation.”

Connor raised a brow. “What iced coffee situation?”

Jay and Will shared a look. Then Will smirked. “Okay. One time, Connor, someone at Med kept ‘accidentally’ drinking her labeled coffee from the fridge.”

“Which is sacred territory,” Jay added.

Will nodded solemnly. “So she replaced it with a decoy. Same cup, same label. Filled it with a very specific laxative and oat milk blend. Waited. Watched. Then walked by the nurse’s station the next day, sipping her real coffee, and went: ‘Hope that tasted okay. It was a trial batch.’ And just walked away.”

Connor stared at you. “That was you?! That was you?! I remember that week! The whole floor had a hydration station set up!”

You bit your straw to keep from laughing.

“She’s an icon,” Jay said, raising his glass to you. “And she keeps that same energy in every aspect of life. Like that one guy on Insta who kept flirting with her in DMs? Instead of blocking him, she kept sending him unsolicited photos of your surgery textbooks. Nothing but blood, muscle, bone. He ghosted himself.”

Connor looked at you with a mixture of awe, amusement, and just a little fear.

“I married a chaotic mastermind,” he muttered.

“You did,” Will confirmed.

“She’s our tiny war general,” Jay said, clinking his glass with yours.

You raised your glass with a cheeky smile. “To justice.”

Connor just laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You terrify me.”

And you? You just leaned into his side and murmured, “Good. Keep it that way.”

[gamerwoo]

dumb/random things skz would do while ur dating

a/n: don’t ask me what this is or why i came up w it these are just Thoughts That I Have Sometimes 

-

chan: if he has spare time and gets bored, he’ll splice up voicemails or voice messages you’ve sent him to make you say random shit and then he sends it to you out of nowhere with absolutely zero context. it could be anywhere from the raunchiest, dirtiest things you’ve ever heard, to just straight up dumb things, to him making you say how amazing and great he is and how much you love him. either way, he thinks he’s hilarious

minho: literally just stares at you for no reason. you’re on your phone across the room and he’s staring. just deadpan staring. and once you notice and make eye contact he gives you a mean look like you were staring at him first and he’s mad about it. even after you look away, he’s still staring. if you ask what he wants he’ll be like “why tf are you staring at me?? get a hobby, freak”

changbin: actually expects you to open doors for him and pull out his chair and lay your jacket out over a puddle. if you don’t, he just stares at you and eyes the thing he wanted you to do for him. obviously you’d never put your jacket over a puddle when he could literally walk around it but he’ll scoff and dramatically roll his eyes and make some comment about “guess romance really is dead” or something dumb

hyunjin: maybe he used to actually sketch you really nicely at one point but now he’s comfortable with you and now the only times he draws you is a really rough and quick sketch that’s so poorly done and it’s always you making ugly faces and he just slides it over to you and goes “this is you rn" and it’s you looking very pissed off and with a unibrow and you’re shrimp-backing so hard

jisung: keeps making those powerpoint presentations for you about different topics but he only makes them between like 11pm-3am so the farther into it he gets, the weirder it gets and the less sense it makes. usually the topics don’t really make sense either, though. like the time he showed you ‘101 reasons why you should still love me as a worm :)’. but there was the time he presented you with ‘69 reasons why i love you’ and even though 25% of them were weird things like ‘your breath smells normal’ and ‘you haven’t committed a felony so i don’t have to have a long distance relationship with someone in prison’ you still thought it was pretty sweet

felix: if you think he won’t act like those cringey gamer couples, you’re so fucking wrong. whether he’s doing it ironically or seriously, he’s going to drag you into his shenanigans. your names on different games have to match. they’ve been shit like ‘their dps / his pocket’ and 'grilled cheese / tomato soup’ to unhinged things like ‘mike huchie / mike hunt’ and ‘blowing smoke / smoke’. he always thinks it’s so fucking funny but you want to die. your discord names are ‘their daddy / his kitten’ and whenever you change it, he changes it back

seungmin: he does literally anything and pretends it wasn’t him. plays with your hair while you’re cooking dinner, but when you turn to look at him, he looks around and starts whistling. he’ll knock your closed water bottle straight out of your hand for no reason and then shrug at you like it was the fucking wind. even when he kisses your cheek he’ll gasp and be like “who did that?”

jeongin: he’ll act cute or whatever when he wants something but god forbid you do it back. the amount of judging he’ll do will make you want to leave the house. “please don’t ever do that again, you’re embarrassing me” as if you didn’t just copy everything he’s ever done to you. he’s gone so far as to pretend he doesn’t know you out in public over this. only he can be cute to get his way. if you do it, it’s cringe

[aothotties]

BIO1108 - R. Sukuna

an: this is the final i am MOST worried about. if only i had king sukuna to help get my mind off it.

warnings: cursing, nipple sucking, oral (f.recieving), squirting

wc: 1370

You let out an exhausted sigh.

You looked over your notes for what felt like the 100th time and you were still stumped. You reviewed all the powerpoints and even found youtube videos over the material but it just felt like you were quite grasping it 

You were nervous that you'd fail your final and in turn, fail the class so you knew you had to keep going until you got it right.

Your vision got blurry as tears welled up in your eyes and you blinked hard trying to fight them back. You needed a break and decided it would be best to give yourself a few minutes to clear your mind.

You walked into the kitchen to grab some water and a snack. While there you saw your boyfriend, Sukuna.

“Hey how’s it going?” he asked while noticing the worried look on your face 

“Horrible” you answered 

“You need some help?” he asked, genuinely wanting to help 

“ Can you explain the Shannon Diversity Index and tell me the difference between species diversity and genetic diversity by any chance?” you asked knowing he wouldn't know the answer but you were desperate 

He gave you a blank stare. He so badly wanted to give you a joke as an answer but he knew you weren't in the mood. You let out a sigh as you realized you would probably never get the answer to your question nor would you even understand the concepts. 

You opened the fridge but couldn't see the contents as you had started crying and the tears were blurring your sight. Sukuna noticed you crying and ran to pull you into a big hug

“Baby please don't cry. You're so smart and capable i know you'll figure it out” he said before placing a kiss on your forehead 

“I'm not that smart Sukuna” you said between sobs, “i cant even explain the difference between xylem and phloem in plants and my final is tomorrow! I'm going to fail!”

At this point you were breaking down in his arms. You've never felt so defeated in your life and you were scared of what tomorrow would bring. 

He rubbed your back and let you cry it out on his chest. He kissed your forehead and cupped your cheeks so you could look up at him

“y/n, you're the smartest girl i've ever met. You know way more than you think and I just know you’ll understand everything you need to know before your final tomorrow. I think you're stressed and I'm glad you're taking a break. Let's relax for a bit, okay?” he said to you with a concerned look in his eyes 

You nodded your head and he smiled then placed a peck on your lips. You walked over to the kitchen island and sat up on the counter.

He brought over some water and you thanked him as you took the cup from his hands. He stood in between your legs as they dangled off the counter and wrapped his arms around your waist. He laid his head on your chest and you ran your fingers through his pink hair. 

“Thank you. I really needed to hear you say all of that” you said to him 

“Of course, thats what im here for” he responded 

You both sat in silence for a second before you broke it 

“You're right, i need to relax for a second and get my head straight before i dive back into it” you said with yet another sigh 

“For sure, take as long as you need” he said 

He lifted his head and looked you in the eye and flashed you his pearly white smile. You couldn't help but smile back.

He puckered up for a kiss and you leaned down to give him one. You only plated one kiss on his lips and he jokingly poked out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. You laughed at how silly he was and gave him another kiss. 

 He stood up and brought your empty cup to the sink. He began washing it out and you stared at him as he did so. You couldn't help but notice the way his muscles poked though his wife beater. You heart began racing and your mind went elsewhere.

He turned around and immediately recognized the look on your face. He walked over to where you were sitting again and positioned himself between your legs. instinctively , you wrapped them around his hips.

“You okay?” he asked with a devious smile

“Y-yeah, im fine” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck 

He leaned down and kissed you. As soon as his lips met yours, you eyes fluttered shut and he deepened the kiss.

He tried to pull back for a second, but you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him right back in. his lips crashed on yours then he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You sucked on it lightly knowing what it did you him.

He stepped closer to you and you felt his bulge through his sweats. You slowly began grinding on him. His hands went straight to your ass and he roughly squeezed.

His kisses began trailing lower, first to your jawline, then down to your neck. When he got to your sweet spot he sank his teeth into the flesh causing you to moan. You know it would leave a mark but you didn't care it felt way too good.

He kissed even lower to your collar bone and eventually your chest that peeked through your low cut shirt.

Sukuna’s hands moved from your ass to your breast where he massaged them through your shirt.

“Can i take this off?” he asked 

You nodded your head giving him permission to slip your shirt off. He threw it across the kitchen once he got it off your body. 

He immediately attached his lips to your nipple, sucking softly on the hardened bud. You threw your head back and ran your fingers through his hair.  He moved over to the other one and continued his work on that one as well 

He wasted no time and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slid them off of you, taking your panties down with them.

He stepped back and positioned his face between your legs. He licked his lips as he admired your cunt and how wet she already was. 

He hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter where his lips met your clit. You gasped as you felt him lightly suck. 

His tongue began licking circles around the mound and he inserted his middle finger into your slit. He curled it so he could hit your g-spot and once he got it, he rubbed it over and over driving you insane. Your back arched and you felt your thighs closing in on his head. You always worried that you would smother him but for Sukuna, it was heaven. If he died right there and would die a happy man. 

The pressure of his sucking increased and he inserted his ring finger alongside the middle one and increased the pace.

“Oh fuck!” you moaned, knowing that combo was going to get you to your peak 

“Mhm”, he groaned into your cunt, “you like that” he aksed

“Y-yes - fuck- feels so good” you whined in response.

This was exactly what he wanted to hear. He loved pleasuring you and would do it for hours if you let him 

You felt that knot in your stomach and knew you were close. You pulled his hair and arched your back even more. You grinded against his face, chasing that high. He knew you were close but didn't change a thing. He knew you loved exactly what he was doing.

The knot snapped and you came, hard. You squirted all over his face and dripped on the counter and the floor under you. 

He pulled back and looked at you with a satisfied grin. 

He kissed your lips and looked directly in your eyes and said

“Now, go and pass that final tomorrow and I'll really show you a good time” 

Rachel

[not-your-bro]

what i did and didn't (but mostly didn't) like about until dawn remake's character trait changes

hello friends and fans. i am super excited to welcome all my pals back to the latest episode of Laura Yaps About Until Dawn Remake. i've talked about the prologue here and here, and i plan on talking about other elements of the game (visuals, gameplay, narrative changes) whenever life and time allows.

before i go off about the character traits, thanks to @claarria for posting this handy side-by-side of old vs new. super helpful! i'll be using those images here.

and generally speaking, let it be known that i think the font change is so fucking ugly 💖 like god bless but it is so bad 💖💖 and they've made the layout so much less dynamic by just listing all the traits straight down, bullet point style?? it is all very microsoft powerpoint core and it sucks. anyway. onto the characters, in order of appearance.

sam

off topic but very importantly, how did they fuck up sam's face THAT bad?? ballistic moon sapped the life out of her and now there is literally nothing behind those eyes. HOMEGIRL WAKE UP 👏👏

one trait change here: adventurous -> brave. not wrong, but super redundant, because brave is one of the character stats in the menu, so like. at any point when i'm playing her, i can pop in the menu and see exactly how brave she is. it's pointless to put it here.

chris

one change: methodical -> loyal. and honestly. this one slays i can't lie. like yeahhhh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

i know everyone loves to hate on chris now, but he pushes to help sam even when it puts himself at risk and he goes to the shed to get josh even though josh just traumatized the hell out of him lmao. boy is loyal asf and i'm more than happy to see it replace methodical.

jess

big changes here. i'm not jazzed to see confident go. i always thought smg included it purposefully, because this is how jess is trying to come across, even though she's actually insecure.

and imo trusting fits her far better than, say, driven. based on em's comment about her grades (and the fact that jess doesn't deny it lmao), i don't think she has much drive or ambition at this point in her life. she's always struck me as the kind of person who doesn't have a big dream or passion, and as high school graduation approaches she would feel sort of aimless? like she doesn't know where to go next.

i don't mean these as negatives, btw. jess is a top 3 ud character for me. i just don't think she's driven. and i think she is irreverent. and that's fine. 💖

emily

one change: persuasive -> forthright. like sam's change, this isn't wrong. emily is definitely forthright. but i don't like that we're shifting her further from mike (more on that later), and this change makes her use of words seem less purposeful. like she says what she wants just for the sake of it, instead of: she knows what to say to get people to do what she wants.

matt

matt's trait changes make for a much different impression. motivated and ambitious have been swapped with obliging and dependable, which shifts the focus from himself to others. we're drawing attention to an agreeable, go-with-the-flow personality, rather than the fact that he's got big dreams for himself (get that scholarship, bud).

i'm not sure i'm the biggest fan, because it kind of makes him seem like a doormat? it's possible that he never talks to emily about how she treats him, and he does film the prank on hannah even though he doesn't seem like he would. still...i guess i wish there was more of a mix here. he can be obliging and dependable, but he doesn't have to be, depending on your choices, and this really makes him feel like everything he does is for the sake of others.

mike

i appreciate ballistic moon pulling these shots back a little - some of them were really, like, up the character's nose lmfao. but bro those traits are unreadable against mike's skin 😭😭

anyway, mikey gets a complete overhaul. i've been over brave with sam. it's a waste of a slot. and it's not that mike isn't driven or charismatic. i mean, he is definitely charismatic, given his popularity in fandom. even i have this feeling of 'man, i should not be charmed by him' <- is definitely charmed by him. but i think we're losing a lot by separating him from emily, with whom he used to share 2 out of 3 traits (intelligent and persuasive). i always thought that said a lot about why they would be drawn to each other and start a relationship - but also why that relationship wouldn't last.

if i were to give mike any new trait, it'd probably be impulsive, which i think is a great fit for him. mike may be intelligent, but when it comes to decisions, he's a man of action - a doer, not a thinker. which is just as likely to lead to a bad outcome as it is a good one.

ashley

one change here (forthright -> sensitive), but god does it fucking suck. SENSITIVE?????? be fr. is ashley sensitive or is she traumatized nonstop for eight hours? she was upset when she was chained to a wall and thought she was going to die! when she thought her friend died! when she thought her other dead friend's ghost was trying to communicate with them! when she was put in a life-or-death trap a second time! that sure was sensitive of her!

if i could revert only one trait change, it would be this one. 0/10.

josh

must be said that josh's shot is much better in the remake. it could not have been worse, like i will never understand how anyone looked at that half-closed eye and open mouth and was like yeah that's a good first impression LMAO. so, cool with that.

tbh i also like josh's trait changes? this is another total overhaul, but honestly, at the risk of getting booed offstage, i'm happy with this. if i'm being real, complex was always a waste of a slot. like...yeah? i hope so? all of your characters should be complex to some degree. it feels like a weird shade to the other characters to point out one guy, specifically, as complex. so the rest of them are simple, then? 🤨 it's not that i would argue against josh being the most complex - i do think he is (though i realize my stance on that means little because i'm up this man's ass). it's just weird to draw attention to it.

as for the other traits, yeah, josh is thoughtful and loving. for sure. but i feel like these are sort of...level 2 traits. ykwim? and the new traits are level 1. if you hung out with josh in a casual way, in a group setting, remake traits would be more likely to spring to mind, to match that initial impression. i think you'd have to look more closely or spend more time to clock that he's thoughtful and loving, because outside of his sisters, i don't think he's particularly straightforward or overt in the way he conveys those things, and he wouldn't draw attention to them. maybe i'm leaning too hard on the version of him i've fleshed out in my mind, but josh is the kind of guy who would, like, remember one offhand comment matt made about liking a specific brand of beer. months later, at the next lodge trip, it's there in the fridge, and josh says nothing about it. but he remembered, and he got it. that's josh's brand of thoughtfulness. in my opinion.

none of these six traits are wrong, i just think the new ones are better 'first impression' traits for him.

[vi-for-vendetta]

Anonymous asked:

if youre still taking requests, id love to see something written about some smug rich girl being turned into a milky cow

This isn't much to go off, so I'm gonna do my best lol. I wrote kinda bitchy wlw hucow transformation. Again, I wrote this in second person, I am sorry lol:

She wasn't always this way. When the two of you were younger, she had no desire to shove her closet the size of your house, or the designer purses, or the sports cars in your face. But the second you two went to college, she became a whole new person. Her whole personality revolved around her wealth. You assumed it was just because she wanted attention, but you always felt that it was the wrong kind of attention.

You hadn't spoken to her since orientation, now you were entering your senior year and you two managed to get stuck in a class together. Unfortunately, this was one of those seminar classes where you're made to work on the same project for the whole year with the same partner.

You've heard from some of the other people in your major that she's a notorious slacker, the kind of person who always just skates by, a real "C's get degrees" kind of gal. Normally, you wouldn't care about this, but because you're grade is on the line here, too, you were fuming at the thought of her just making you do the whole assignment by yourself.

You were going to set her straight. One way or another, she was going to pull her weight in this project.

You decided to invite her back to your dorm to brainstorm ideas, but you already had one. You just needed to wait for the inevitable.

The two of you sat down at your too small kitchen table and stared at your laptop screens.

You both affixed your gaze on a blank Google Doc simply titled "Ideas."

Well, you did. She just had it open and was instead focused on her phone. Now was your chance:

"So, any ideas you think could be interesting for the-"

She raises a finger to you, "I'm gonna stop you there. I know you're, like, way smarter than me, so you can just do it and I'll, like, make the PowerPoint pretty in the end. Okay? Just do whatever you want, we can, like, meet up for 15, or like 20 minutes every couple of days to make it look like we're working, but beyond that I don't care."

"Okay, but why do you have to look like you're working? It's not like we're being checked on."

"You might not be, but I am. These stupid professors have me on academic probation, so they need to know where I am all the time," she groaned.

"Got it." You knew the answer already, of course. Gossip is common throughout the school about the pretty little rich girl who always manages to come out on top.

"Yeah, so just do whatever you want," she said with a dismissing wave.

You nodded, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding a grin that cartoon supervillains would be jealous of. You clicked open a new tab with a fully set up paper outline and data collection page. This was going to be the perfect paper. You called it, "Creating a Hucow: How Lactation Supplements and Subliminal Messaging Can Turn Anyone into a Ditzy Cow."

Of course you needed IRB approval for this, but based on your partner's nonchalance and overall dismissive nature, you could surely get her to sign all the papers you needed without her ever noticing what she was agreeing to.

So, off you went. For months, you slowly dosed her up with lactation supplements, offering to pick up her Starbucks and spiking it before each 20 minute meeting. You'd talk to her about how gorgeous she'd look in cow print, how soft her skin looked. After a month, she was letting you give her hand and shoulder massages. After two months, you were able to comment to her about how heavy her breasts looked, how tight her clothes had gotten, and how the cow print would help to hide it well. She started to let you grope her under the guise of "just holding them up to help her back." Each time she let you do this, you slowly introduced nipple stimulation. Then the day came.

It was month three and she was practically putty in your hands. But there was still work to do, and you knew just how to get the next phase started:

"Hey, you know, during some of my research for this stupid paper, I found that breast pumping, like the stuff new moms do, can really help ease the pain in your tits."

"Really? I never, like, ever heard that before."

"No, it's true! Here, I knew you were having a rough time, and I don't wanna see you suffer, so I bought you one," you say presenting the best pump to her, "Wanna try it out? I can get it hooked up for you."

She looked at you, puzzled, maybe moreso tentative. There was a long pause as she examined the device, "Okay. What not."

Success.

You peeled off her shirt, and hooked her up to the little pump. After only a few seconds, milk started to leak from her nipples into the machine.

"Oh my god! What the hell? Why am I-"

You shush her, cutting her off, "Don't worry, it's normal. Sometimes this just happens to girls with big tits like yours. It's the price to pay for beauty like that. But don't worry, I'm here to help."

"Okay, if you say so," her voice trailed off, it's the most concerned she's sounded throughout this whole process. You'd be sure to note that down. "But okay, I trust you. Thank you for helping me."

"Any time."

With that, you convinced her to come over more often, twice a day for an hour each session. Each time you'd pump her, you'd touch her breasts, rub her thighs. She moaned at the mear sight of your hands now.

By month four, she would come to your dorm and stop down to nothing but a micro cow-print bikini, which she now wore under her ensemble of cow-print clothes each day, and her cow bell collar. She'd then let you rip off her top and pump her. You'd run your pussy and your own breasts as you touched her, and she would beg for your touch all the time now.

It was month five now, and the semester was drawing to a close. She was a wet, milky mess the second she laid eyes on you. She would walk around on all fours, pumping her tits as she slurped up your wetness. Her favorite activity was rubbing your tits together.

She was the prettiest little experiment you ever saw.

And today was the day you'd tell her what you'd done to her. In front of the whole seminar class.

Your class' collective jaw dropped the second you walked in with her on a leash, walking on all fours in her micro bikini, leaking milk down her swollen tits.

You began your presentation:

"This semester, I turned my partner, with her consent, of course, into a hucow. Here's how I did it."

You spent your presentation detailing every step in your manipulative process, and not once did her face drop that ditzy smile it had. All she did was nod, smile and beg to be touched by you throughout your presentation.

As your presentation drew to a close, now was the time to ask your coveted question: "Alright, cow, here's my final question for this study, okay?"

She nodded fast.

"Knowing what you do now about what I did to you and how, are you mad, and do you regret what you've become?"

Without missing a beat, she chirps, "Absolutely not! I'm so happy being your dumb cow! I just wanna be your little milky toy forever! Please may I be your toy?"

You look at your classmates and smile, "Why yes, yes you can."

She jumps up from the floor and kisses you, groping your tits in front of the class.

You had made the perfect bimbo cow and proved that it was a more than satisfactory existence. This was the life.

[rosetta-j-stone]

IT'S BOJERE WEEK 2025!

Original post here - thanks to @oneshotdepresso for organising!

Day 1 - SFW - Dinner Date!

(AU where this is how Bojan and Jere meet for the first time)

For once, Bojan Cvjetićanin is EARLY for something.

And NERVOUS.

Why am I nervous? This is no big deal. I'm just meeting a stranger. Off the internet. For dinner.

He did suggest going for coffee but apparently this guy (Jere...something) is super-busy during the day. So. Dinner it is.

He got Jan to pick out some hipster-but-not-too-hipster venue rather than one of the places he, Bojan, usually goes. Because what if the date's a disaster and he can never go back there again? Or, worse, the date goes well, they date for a bit, then have a hideous break-up IN THIS SAME RESTAURANT (it's their go-to place now, obviously) and THEN he can never go back there again?

You have to be prepared for this sort of thing.

He can picture Jan rolling his eyes at this while pointing out that this kind of overthinking is exactly why the gang signed him up for this in the first place. So he can get out of his own head and - crucially - out of the house.

Whatever. If this is a disaster he's got a whole PowerPoint presentation entitled I Told You So with Jan's name on it.

***

Jere Pöyhönen is running late. Like, inexcusably late. Like, "you'll have to AT LEAST offer to buy the drinks" late.

In his defence, however, it turns out that very few of the clothes he owns are in that middle ground between his "Freddie Mercury Approved" stage outfits and his "Freddie Mercury Appalled" leisurewear. It took him about an hour to find something even vaguely suitable.

So of course he's ended up leaving the house super-late AND he's had to skip a few of the other things he would normally do before going on a first date.

For example, his nails are currently unvarnished.

Feels wrong somehow. Like his fingers are...naked.

Heh.

STOP IT, JERE. Arriving this late, you'll be lucky to get a smile out of the guy, let alone-

The thought distracts him so much that he almost barrels straight past the restaurant.

***

Bojan has already made his way through one surprisingly boozy pina colada and is considering ordering a second when Jere - it HAS to be him, right? - bursts through the door in a flurry of energy, apologies and...glitter eyeshadow?

Huh. Interesting.

The hair is different from his profile pic - instead of a dark bowl cut he's sporting a blonde quiff. He's not too taken aback by this though. Maybe because from the guy's other pictures it seems like he changes his look on a fairly regular basis, maybe because of the pina colada. Or maybe he's finally succeeding in channelling his inner Jan and nothing will faze him ever again.

Jere pulls up a chair opposite him and looks him in the eyes.

OK. Nope. Nope. He's definitely still capable of being fazed.

DAMNIT.

***

Okei, the guy doesn't look annoyed. That's a good sign.

Jere breathes a deep inward sigh of relief as he grabs the menu and starts scanning it so he can avoid wasting more of this man's time on umming and ahing over the options. Thank the lord this isn't one of those overly fancy places where he doesn't understand the menu in his own language let alone anyone else's.

Though he seems to remember something in this guy's profile about his friends calling him "Languages Georg" so he could always throw himself on his mercy if required.

He sneaks a look up at him from under his eyelashes, then thinks, what the hell, and follows it with a slow look down.

Hmmm, yesyes verinice.

Definitely wouldn't mind throwing myself on his-

-FOCUS, JERE.

***

"I was just going to order another one of these" Bojan says, gesturing at his empty glass in what he hopes is a careless, casual way. "Do you want one? Do you like pina coladas?" And getting caught in the rain, he mercifully does NOT say out loud.

Jere beams at him. Oh boy. The smile is even more devastating than the eyes. "Yes, very much. I get these?"

The power of speech seems to have momentarily deserted him so Bojan simply nods.

Jere gets up, bounds over to the bar and immediately begins sweet-talking the dour-looking bartender. At least Bojan assumes sweet-talking is going on. There is DEFINITELY some eyelash-batting involved.

Not that he's bothered.

Nope.

He drags his eyes back to the menu, like he hasn't already read it five times and knows exactly what he's going to order.

After what feels like an unnecessarily long amount of time, Jere returns, triumphantly bearing a pina colada in each hand. He hands one to Bojan, their fingers brushing each other as he does so.

Bojan damn near drops the glass.

Thank goodness for fast reflexes.

***

Hoo boy. That was intense.

As he takes his seat again, Jere quickly looks around to make sure the glass in the windows is still intact and the lights are still working.

Yep, everything is perfectly normal apparently.

Seems fake but okei.

He raises his glass. "So...Bojan..."

...please let me have pronounced that correctly...

"...na zdravje?"

***

Carpe diem, whispers Bojan's inner Jan.

He's really cute, whispers his inner Jure.

You got this, whispers his inner Nace.

If he breaks your heart, I'll hunt him down and kill him myself, whispers his inner Kris.

Bojan takes a breath, raises his glass, and clinks it against Jere's.

"...na zdravje" he replies, grinning.

[kiwii-11]

order up!

in which . . . you and a fellow student keep bumping into each other, as if something is forcing you two to interact.

or . . . the first few times guy and honey meet each other, and how their friendship blooms.

cw . . . gn reader, they/them pronouns, second person pov, pre-relationship guy x honey, honey! reader, flirting, honey is a criminology major and a barista what more could you want, one use of y/n, one coworker flirts with honey, I LOOOOOVE GUY X HONEY SM RAGAGAHAHHHH

you were upset that student accomodation cost an arm and a leg. why did you have to pay over a hundred dollars more to live on campus than just next to it? wasn’t the university getting enough of your money?

these thoughts ran through your mind every time you hopped off the train and had to walk towards your campus. public transport was supposedly used to make your life easier, but the patrons diseased that purpose. the guy who squished beside you on the train wouldn’t get off the phone and kept obnoxiously speaking to his friend about whatever came to his mind. you were trying to make space between the both of you and kept your bag close to your chest. what an idiot…

you were currently rushing to your class that was across campus from the public entry. whilst you left early, the train was late, pushing your travel time to be from the usual 45 minutes to an hour. you were pissed off, to say the least, and it seemed your peers noticed it. every person handing out a flyer had coincidentally looked away from your direction.

“—like editing, your presentation, style, things of the sort.” the professor speaks as she draws up her powerpoint.

however, she stops short at the sound of the door whacking open, you looking breathless in the doorway.

“i—i apologise, i was running late,” you huff out in an embarrassed tone as you fix your shirt, “please continue.”

she raises her eyebrow at you. “well, with your approval, i will.” she turns back to the board and begins to speak more on the overview of the class.

you frantically look around for a spot to sit, noticing how full the class was. the seminar room wasn’t small by any means, and some empty spots were in between two people. what an awkward way to enter the room.

luckily enough, you see a fellow student sitting in one of the back rows waving his hand your way. he has this dumb on his face as he’s pulling his backpack from the seat beside him. taking the signal, you make your way over to the end seat he was gesturing to and hastily take out your laptop.

“nice entrance,” he whispers under his breath as you fix your small seat table, “you looked like a dear in headlights, y’know? and you’re so serious and knit-browed — are you sure you’re in the right class?”

you’re a bit taken aback by his statements and question. as you pull up your note-taking app, you huff, “this is creative non-fiction, right? room GB-204-1A?”

he raises a brow and glances to the back of the room, where the sign read just that. he purses his lips and hums, “you got that memorised in that pretty head of yours, huh? wonder what else—”

“this is an introduction class, sir,” the professor calls out to the boy beside you, making him sit ip straight, “if you know everything i am about to teach that you feel so inclined to speak to our latest arrival, then you may leave.”

“o—oh, no, i’m okay!” he stammers in a nervous rush, “i mean, like, i will stay! not that i know everything, even though this is just the first class and you’re just going over the course outline, i will stay. if you’ll have me. please.”

the professor hardens her gaze before she returns to the class once again.

you’re half-thankful for the professor being a hard-ass, because the student beside you was now shutting up and doing his work. the whole room was doing so until it came to the time to make friends in this class. you were told to take a ten minute break and talk amongst yourselves.

while you were trying to catch up on the work you had missed, the student beside you took it upon himself to continue your conversation from earlier.

“so, why were you late?” he asks as he shuts his laptop, “everyone usually gets here, like, twenty minutes before class so that they can get good spots. not you, though. do you just like all the attention on you, hm?”

you peer over to him with a raised brow. he’s smiling widely.

“my train was fifteen minutes delayed.” you say flatly.

he nods his head, waiting for you to go on. your fingers continue to type along the keyboard.

“i haven’t seen you in any of my core classes,” he claims, leaning towards you, “i’ve had all of them this week. are you just now realising that all the money you’re puttin’ into this course is real and that you should probably start taking things seriously? that’s so real, i can totally understand that. hey, maybe we—”

“this is just an elective for me.” you cut him off.

“ooh, so you’re not a little word wizard like i am, then,” he chuckles, “what’s your deal? you seem really left-brained, y’know, and putting up a cold front. maybe inside you’re all warm-hearted and sweet.”

“you’ve known me for an hour, and i’ve said less than 30 words to you,” you point out, “and if you’re asking what i’m majoring in, it’s criminology.”

“what? so what are you doing here?”

“criminology falls under the this bachelor, so i picked this elective to try and get a break from my core work.” you explain as you mindlessly type.

“oh, that makes sense. so this is the only class we’d share this semester. what a pity; these people would kill for a dynamic like ours.” he thinks out loud.

“i… i guess?” you murmur as you glance at him.

he gives you a smile. the small gesture is a bit weird after what he just said, but you go back to working like usual. he tries to talk your ear off the whole time until the break is over.

when the class ends, you pack up your things and leave promptly. the student sitting beside you noticed this and rushes to do the same.

“h—hey, wait!”

you’re putting your second earbud in when you feel a tug on your bag. you look back to see him again. “what is it?”

“oh, scary,” he mumbles under his breath, “i just wanted to get your name. we didn’t exchange it back there and you weren’t there for ticking off the roll. you were the only one i talked to in class, so we’re practically best friends now—”

“we aren’t.”

“—and best friends should know each other’s names, isn’t that right?” he finished with another smile, “i’m—”

his phone is ringing in his hand just as he goes to speak. he stammers before answering. you stand there awkwardly with your earbud in, ready to play music. you could leave right now and get something to eat before work, but your feet are stuck in the ground. maybe you felt bad about trying to leave…

“right! i’ll be there right away, rosa!” he says before he ends the call and turns back to you, “i’m sorry, i know i held you back, but… my job just asked me to come in. right now. a few seconds ago. it’s getting pretty busy and—”

“i don’t need an explanation, you can just go.” you say as you shrug your shoulders.

“oh yeah. i’ll see you next week, stand-offish person!” he waves at you as he rushes passed to make it to his car.

you only let out a sigh, put in your earbud and continue to listen to your music as you head to the campus foodcourt area. on the way there, you pass the noticeboard, where you desperately searched for a place closer to campus to live. most of it is about student accomodation on school grounds, which you’ve completely ruled out already, but one flyer stands out. it’s fairly new, and there’s a phone number on the bottom to contact about a three bedroom apartment that was a five minute walk from campus, saving time and money.

you hastily type the number into your phone and send a short message introducing yourself and your interest in the apartment. as you continue to your destination, you get a text back. the person, kayla, was telling you to come by in the next few days to check the place out. you thank kayla for the opportunity and decide on a time.

today seemed hopeful.

the next day, you come home from work with a huff of tiredness. living with your parents did help you save money, but the travel was agonising. if the train wasn’t late, it was cancelled all together, or it had a platform change that made you miss it. you loved tour parents, and they didn’t mind you staying during studying, but everything else screamed at you to move out.

“sweetie, i’ve ordered dinner already,” your mother says from the living room as you change clothes in your bedroom, “it’ll be here in a couple minutes, okay? my wallet’s by the door.”

“yeah, okay.” you call back as you stifle a yawn.

as you take your time studying, a knock at the door comes to your attention. you walk downstairs to grab the food, passing your mother setting up the table. she thanks you for getting the delivery.

the door swings open and you glance up to the man holding the food.

“hi, delivery for—…” the same student from your elective class is staring back at you, blinking in surprise before a smile breaks out on his face, “it’s you! the—the, uh, stand-offish person! wow, what a coincidence, huh? i didn’t know you were a fan of max’s. i can’t believe i didn’t recognise you.”

“you’re… the pizza guy?” you mumble out with a tilt of your head.

“well, yeah, but you can just drop the ‘pizza’,” he chortles as he shrugs his shoulders, “i’m just ‘the guy’. as in, that’s my name. ‘guy’, just ‘guy’, i mean. why would my name have a definite article?” he lets out another nervous laugh as you stare at him. “these are for you.”

you take the boxes from guy and place them on the table beside you. “thanks, uh, guy. how much do i owe you?”

he’s staring at you and you can feel it as you take the wallet from the key plate. he can’t help but trace your features where you looked so much calmer now than yesterday. he’s glad to have run into you again.

“hello?” you hum.

“oh, well, uh… nothing,” he clears his throat, “it’s… on the house. or in the house, you could say. i mean, how else would you get your dinner, am i right?”

“i have to pay for this, dude,” you say as you pick up the receipt that came with the food, “$35.70.”

you’re shoving two twenty dollar bills into his hand and clasping his fingers around it. guy blinks at your warm touch and how you give him a once-over in his uniform. he fixes his hat on his head and straightens on the hem of his shirt.

“keep the change, pizza guy.” you say, giving him a half-assed smile.

“really?” he widens his eyes.

‘it’s less than five dollars’, you think to yourself.

“yeah.” you hum as you hold the doorknob.

“thank you, that’s, uh… thank you,” he tells you with a grateful smile, “you’re very sweet.”

“like honey.” you sigh.

guy lets out a small chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. you hold your stance for a second before you begin closing the door, muttering out another ‘thanks’.

the door shuts in his face.

he stands there for a few seconds, face warming up in the 6pm wind. you were intriguing, in a way a lot of other people weren’t. he was good at reading people, but he just couldn’t with you. granted, this was only the second time you’ve met face to face. after taking in a deep breath, guy bounces back to his car with a wide smile, returning to work.

“here, thanks for dinner.” you say as you place the boxes on the table.

“did you know the delivery person?” your mother asks as she hands you a plate.

“we’re in the same elective class,” you state while pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “i sat next to him yesterday.”

“ooh, is he cute? does he like you?” she jokes.

“he talks a lot and it’s a bit distracting,” you sigh and pour the drinks, “but he seems to have good intentions.”

you mother studies your face a little before she hums, nodding her head.

the next few days pass by without anything major happening. lots of studying and lots of working. you had gone over to see the apartment, and it was in good condition. kayla seemed to be in a bit of a frenzy, telling you that not a lot of people were calling back to sign the lease. you wondered why that was, since this was a great spot for students. you were sure that you would move in, with all the benefits it had for you.

today, you were scheduled to work the opening to closing, 8am to 6pm. your car was parked outside beside your coworker’s, and the sign was already flipped. while the cafe didn’t get too busy all the time, fridays were always busy.

“oat latte for peter,” you call as you place the cover over the cup, “have a good day.”

you turn back to the coffee machine to ready the next order. your next coworker would be coming in at 12pm, so one of you could go on your thirty minute break. it was getting a little hot, being in front of the machine so much. your store’s coffees were good, but you didn’t think so many people would be coming in to have it all the time.

as the orders begin to calm down, you take to clearing the tables and washing some dishes. a sigh leaves your lips as you stretch your arms over your head.

“hey,” your coworker says as he pops his head around the corner, “wanna’ take your thirty now? tina should be coming any minute now.”

“yeah sure,” you reply as you wipe your hands on the towel, “i’m grabbing lunch.”

you peel your apron off and hang it on the rack before grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your shoulder. as you leave, you pull out your phone and your earbuds to listen to music. there was a sandwich shop you liked to visit on the corner of the block, which is where you were heading right now.

when you feel a tap on your shoulder as you go to open the store door, you furrow your brows and glance over. it’s him.

he’s saying something that’s getting drowned out by your music. you carefully take an earbud out.

“—oh you didn’t hear me, haha,” he laughs to himself as you stare at him, “it’s nice to see you again. do you remember me? i’m the pizza delivery guy that also happens to be in your creative non-fiction class! y’know, the class you were late for and then happened to see lil’ ol’ me and sat next to me.”

“yeah,” you respond as you enter and guy follows you, “uh, what’re you doing here?”

“i’m on my lunch break right now,” he claims, “i like this spot, makes the best chicken pesto sandwiches, oh my god, they’re so good. i didn’t think you could even make them into sandwiches, i thought they were just pasta. it’s not even my favourite pasta, though, pesto. i just really like it as a sandwich. my favourite pasta is—”

he continues to ramble as you uncomfortably stand in line waiting to order. when it’s your turn, guy halts his speaking. then it’s his turn. but right after that, he’s standing with you as you wait for your food. he continues on about his likes and dislikes and you decide to put your earbuds away. not really because you were interested, but because it seemed rude to listen to music when this oblivious man was trying to talk to you.

when you get your sandwiches (at the same time, no less), he sits with you.

“so, honey, what are you doing here? other than eating such a delectable sandwich with such delectable company such as myself.” he chuckles out with a grin.

“—‘honey’? wha—” you scoff, “i’m on my lunch break too.”

“woah, what a coincidence!” he says, “it’s like you ‘n i are linked! do you ever think about that? how the universe makes people meet up so that they can be friends and always hang out and probably give your number to—”

“are you following me or something?” you sigh as you put your sandwich down, “i see you everywhere, at my own house.”

“‘following you’? no! of course not, why would i follow you?” he gasps dramatically, “i am but a humble man, asking for just an inch of your attention — a crumb, if you so allow it! i swear on my little life that i have no ill intent! isn’t that weird? no one believes in fate anymore and j will prove that it’s real one way or another.”

you raise a brow at him as you take a sip from your drink.

“how will you do that?��� you muse.

“oh, i don’t know, is this not proof enough?” he gestures between the two of you, “the two of us, honey—”

“that’s not my name—”

“—we’re already starting up our own evidence file, right? i’ve seen you more than any my friends in the past week, which means that we are besties now. we should be getting to know each other now. what’s your favourite piece of media that has been so incredibly overwhelmed by the male gender that it’s, against the creator’s wishes, conformed to such ideals? i would say american psycho but that’s such a basic bitch answer.”

you blink at him slowly, wondering how he’s managed to eat half of his sandwich already when he’s been doing all the talking. you bite into the bread and listen to him absentmindedly. this was saving you phone battery, at least.

a few minutes later, he’s somehow moved on to talk about how you live pretty far from campus.

“yeah, i know, i’m… trying to make up for it.” you exhale heavily, “what about you? i know max’s pizza probably delivers everywhere around dahlia.”

“well, i live just about the same amount away from campus too, just the other way,” guy says, “trying to find a place closer so that i can just get up and go. or go to all those campus parties and get fucked up and just pass out straight away, no regrets. no, actually, i would definitely regret that, it sounds like literal hell to get pissed drunk and then go to class the next morning. mmm, i’m getting a headache thinking about it, owie…”

you shake your head, trying to steer the conversation back. “oh well, uh… if you’re looking to move out—”

“oh my god, are you proposing to me?” he giggles.

“—there’s this place next to campus that’s offering one more spot,” you say, ignoring his question, “i took a look at it and i’m probably gonna’ take the offer. it’s a good looking place, and the other person seems to be needing some roommates, like, now.”

a genuine smile begins to crawl onto guy’s face. when he realises it, he clears his throat and covers his mouth. “that’s… actually a really good idea. you’d take me as your roommate?”

“you make it sound so formal,” you deadpan, “i’m just putting the offer out there.”

“it’s a good offer! i’ve been so busy with work that i haven’t even begun looking for places around campus,” he admits to you, “but yeah, i’ll take a look."

you nod your head and sit in peace for exactly three seconds.

"can you send me the address? and the person i'd have to contact?"

"huh? oh, yeah okay," you respond as you take out your phone, "what's your number?"

"ooh, moving fast, are we? you're so smooth, i knew you were into me, i can always tell. it's in the look of your eyes, you're always switching between staring at my own gorgeous eyes and looking at my lips which means that you're waiting for the right moment to kiss me!"

"it means i'm waiting for you to shut up."

"oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" he mumbles out.

you roll your eyes, but can't hide the smile on your face at his stupid comments. guy lets out a small laugh as he plays with his sleeve.

"you really are as sweet as honey, you know that? not everyone would be as nice as to offer up a place to live! you’re a saint, you need your name on a plaque, a statue in your honour! oh, i could write you a biography! hire me when you get famous!” a huge grin is plastered on his face now.

you roll your eyes a little as another smile taunts your lips. “so you’re a writer, huh? what do you write?”

that seems to send him off the deep end. you spend the rest of your break listening to him talking about his most recent work. you don't end up remembering much about what he was saying, but you know for sure that he'd happily tell you about it all over again. you hear about his book that’s in the works and the main character’s goals, the setting and the major plot points. you have to admit, it intrigued you; maybe you’ll take a look at some manuscripts of his.

the next time you see guy outside of class is your move-in day. you gave your mother a big hug and waved goodbye as she drove back home from your new place. you only had a couple of things left to bring up, boxes by your feet. kayla was out at the moment, handing you the key as she passed you. thankfully, it was a day off and you had the whole day to settle in.

as you pick up one if the boxes, you hear a call of your name.

“been a while, honey,” guy claims as he exits his car, spotting the cardboard by your frame, “ooh, special day! so you ended up signing the lease? that’s so exciting, i hope that one day something this magical could happen to me. perhaps… today?”

“what’re you doing here?” you question whilst you heave the box of pc parts.

“kayla said i could come over to go over some contracting stuff, all the legal things, y’know? boring, boring, blah, blah, blah,” he moves his head side to side while he speaks, over exaggerating his tone, “forgot you were, uh, moving in today! do you need a hand?”

“oh, uh…”

“ugh, how stupid of me! a true gentleman should just help when he sees it is required!” he claims as soon as he picks up the box of textbooks.

you thank him as you enter the apartment building. leading guy into elevator, you scoot to the side to make space for him. he humps his shoulder with yours.

“oof, some heavy stuff in here. not that i don’t think you could carry all these yourself, honey. i think you can do a lot,” he reiterates with a grin, “and i, uh… think you got plenty of attributes, if y’know what i mean, uuhn—”

you nudge him in the ribs with furrowed brows and an embarrassed expression. he lets out a loud laugh.

“shut up.” you scoff.

“hey, it’s a compliment! meant to make you feel nice!” he jokes around as the elevator door opens, “i mean… there are other ways to—augh!”

he bumps into your shoulder as you turn to the apartment and take out your keys. you choose to ignore his comments and head inside.

“my bedroom’s the farthest one to the left. you can just put that box on my bed.” you say, closing the door behind the two of them.

he gives you an ‘okey-dokey’ before travelling down the hall. you place the keys on the bench before going after him.

“woah, you got the nice sheets!” guy claims as he places the box on the floor instead and jumps onto your double mattress, “ugh, it’s so comfortable. we need to swap beds, honey.”

“hard pass,” you grumble out and tug the back of his jacket, “off my bed, you’re dirty.”

“oh i know, uuhn—”

you put your box on the desk and open the window, letting fresh air waft through.

“kayla’s room is the one closest to the living room and kitchen, so you’ll be across from us. the bathroom is right in front of your room, so that’s pretty good,” you explain, “i thought you’d appreciate the bigger space for your… bookshelves or something…”

when you turn around to grab your textbooks, you see guy’s devilish grin on his face. you pause.

“what?”

“how did you know i was gonna’ accept this offer before today, huh? or, and stay with me here, honey, did you just… oh well, i don’t know, perhaps… hope that i did?” he shrugs his shoulders as he sits up and swings his legs off the side of the bed, “aw, honey, were you wishing that your perfect, amazing, fabulous man would come swoop in and save you? always rely on me to make your life exciting! i can picture it now, the hot new show revolving about guy and honey — the deep, brooding softie honey, and the charismatic, ever-loveable and quite talented and handsome guy! what whacky stuff will this duo get up to today? stick around and find out!”

you roll your eyes with a scoff, “you’re stupid.”

“i make up for it by being sexy.”

as you try to organise your textbooks in your shelf above your desk, guy continues to talk. it’s not long til kayla returns and she and guy get to talking about the apartment again. you take your time fixing the rest of your belongings, carefully listening in through your open door.

it sounded like guy was moving in for sure now. you let out a sigh of relief; thank god the third roommate isn’t a complete stranger.

a few weeks later, you’re at work and the store’s died down a little. you’re thankful for the break in pace and begin to clean the coffee machine.

“hey, y/n,” your coworker says as he sidles up beside you, “i wanna’ ask you a question.”

you glance over your shoulder and hum, “yeah?”

“we’ve been friends for, what, two years now?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the counter, “that’s a pretty long time.”

“yeah, i think that’s about right.” you pay half a mind to him as you fill up the coffee grinder again.

“mhm. got me thinking — we’ve never hung out together. outside of work, i mean.” he claims as he fixes the coffee cups.

“that’s not true. those work dinners that tina organises, i always go to them.” you retort with knit brows.

“that’s not what i meant,” your coworker chuckles nervously as you wipe your hands on your apron, “just us two.”

you stop on your tracks and stare at him, suddenly so aware of how close he was standing to you. his smile was gentle and he seemed a bit nervous.

“are you free anytime soon? i’d love to take you out, my treat.” he hums with a hand on his chest.

your coworker was nice to you and others. he was pretty cute, and he didn’t do anything that make you think he was a bad person. but you just weren’t feeling attracted to him. you had no idea why.

“would you like to go out together?” he asks for confirmation.

you swallow your nerves and look to the ground. “uh, listen—”

then, you hear the door open.

“hi, honey!” guy calls obnoxiously as he enters the cafe with his laptop bag over his shoulder, “how’s your day so far?”

you blink at the sight of him as you move to the register, further away from your coworker. you pretend not to notice the way his smile falls upon guy’s greeting.

in all honesty, you’ve grown content with the nickname. it started off a joke between the two of you, but soon it was like guy forgot your name as a whole. you’re too far into knowing him that you decide not to ask about it.

“hey, it’s pretty good. steady day,” you reply, fingers dancing across the pos machine, “what’re you doing here?”

“thinking of working on my manuscript, and where else to do so than in the company of the most adoring, bright, kind-hearted, never ever ill-willed person i know!” he cheers with a big smile, “when do you go on break? i’ll buy you lunch.”

you glance at the clock on the wall and purse your lips. “probably in an hour, unfortunately. but thank you for the thought.”

“aw man, i guess i just gotta’ stick around ‘til then. my poor honey, forced to work while i’m in your presence, in all my glorious beauty.” he lays a dramatic hand over his heart in faux pain.

you roll your eyes with a short laugh, “idiot. what do you want to drink?”

he orders his usual coffee for dine in, pays (secretly with a staff discount but you never tell him) and takes a seat by the window, shoving his headphones on. you watch as he fumbles with the zipper of his laptop bag until he finally releases his device. when he notices that you’re still watching him, he makes a face and blows a kiss your way. you blink at his action and pretend to swat it away, making him laugh.

“so…” your coworker clears his throat, “who’s that?”

you turn back to him as you take out the oat milk. “oh, uh… that’s guy, we have the same seminar this semester.”

your coworker sidles up beside you as he grabs the coffee mug and plate. “that so? he seems… nice, i guess.”

“why do you say it like that?” you huff, raised brow.

when he realises your tone, your coworker shakes his head. “u—uh, nothing. i’ll make this one, can you grab some more napkins?”

after giving him a look, you decide to go back to the storage room and grab the napkins like he asked. you return a few minutes later to find your coworker cleaning the coffee machine and guy drinking his coffee. however, when he sees you, he turns away. you furrow your brows.

“did you make it right?” you ask your coworker as you check that the oat milk was used — it was.

“what? his coffee? yeah, of course.” he scoffs with a confused smile.

“like with the extra foam?”

“i—yeah?”

“and the hazelnut?”

“yes, yes, i did,” he places his hands on your shoulders and chuckles, “relax, dude, it’s fine, he’s loving it, look.”

he gestures to guy, who was already looking back to you. when he’s been caught, he continues to sip his coffee and turns back to his laptop.

“see? he seems nice, it’s not like he’s gonna’ write a bad review or something,” your coworker claims as he leans against the bench and releases your shoulders, “so is he your roommate? he said you two live together.”

“oh, yeah, we’re roommates now. he moved in a couple weeks ago.” you state as you lazily wipe the marble tabletop.

“that’s cool.” your coworker sighs out.

the two of you continue to work for the next half an hour until the next worker comes in and you leave for your break. guy’s just about finished his coffee, trying to drag it out, it seems. when you take off your apron and walk towards him, he closes his laptop and tucks it away.

“ready for lunch?” guy grins.

“let’s go.” you respond.

you two are walking to the sandwich shop when you pick up on his change in demeanour. he’s quieter right now, and he’s staring at the floor.

“what did he say to you? the other person i work with?” you question after about five minutes.

“oh, do you mean the incredibly nice and definitely not threatening or secretly in love with you coworker you have? that person?” guy responds, “nothing at all. he gave me the wrong order and then told me he was gonna’ ask you out so i should probably ‘lay off’.”

he has a hint of annoyance in his tone when he says that last part. you don’t speak on it, but you hear it.

“i’m sorry, i think he was trying to ask me out before you came in.” you sigh with a shake of your head.

“r—really?”

“yeah. he’s probably just confused or something. he’s not usually so hostile.”

“duly noted.”

you peek at his expression — still a bit upset.

“hey, it’s fine, don’t listen to him, if he knew you better i’m sure he’d love you,” you nudge him in the side gently as you speak, “i got a job on campus at that cafe you took me to. i won’t be seeing him for a while, i think.”

“yeah?” guy hums out as a small smile moves onto his face, “i can’t believe you’re willing to relocate for me, a little guy, who’s just feeble and a small spec in the universe, in your universe. gosh, i must be so special. you must have a soft spot for me. ‘cause i got a hard one for you, honey, uuhn—”

“gross.” you joke back and hold the store door open for him.

he laughs along with you, heartfelt. you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders as he does that.

having him as a friend and roommate was starting to look good. he’s cook, you’d clean, kayla would… be somewhere.

a few months later, one very early morning, at around 2am, you woke up to guy knocking on your door, asking to sleepover because of the scary movie you forced him to watch. you rolled your eyes and ended up preparing a makeshift bed on the floor for him, your hand hanging off the side of your own bed so he could hold it while sleeping.

guy would come home with pizza ready for you after your shift at work. a big smile plastered on his face and all as you walk through the door, tired, and he shoves the box in your face.

when the two of you have class together, he makes you two breakfast and you make sure everything is cleaned up and tidy before you leave. you don’t wear your earphones on those days, the silence being filled with guy’s talking.

you didn’t mind at all, not that you’d outright say that to him. he’s gotten more words out of you than you think any other friends from university have. guy was different; he was kind and thoughtful.

and you realised, six months into living together, that you had a huge crush on that stupid pizza delivery guy.

[fayes-fics]

A Job Well Done

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Quickie, office sex after being reunited.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, quickie vaginal sex, office sex, semi-public sex, workplace sex, exhibitionism.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (ask HERE) who wanted quickie office sex with Benedict. This is lighthearted, almost crack in places tbh. Unbetaed. Thanks to my discord peeps for help with some ideas for this one. Enjoy <3

You barely make it through the door into the fancy corner office before clothing is wrenched open, both so desperate. You’ve been away on a business trip for two weeks, but it feels like two months. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” his words hiss on your lips as your kisses land wet and hot, open mouths just taking from each other.

“I missed you too,” you can barely gasp, fighting off your knickers under your skirt.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we can go to one of our places after work?” he checks.

“No, here,” you insist and back yourself against the wall, pulling him by the open fly right into you, moaning at the crush of his chest against yours.

“Really?” he sounds disbelieving, even as you roughly yank down the front of his underwear and shimmy it down his hips along with his trousers.

“Yes, really. Just make it quick,” you confirm, wiggling your skirt up around your waist, revelling in his groan as you grab his cock and pump it in your hand, standing on tiptoe to line him up with your aching pussy. 

He splutters the most adorable noise as his hot tip slides inside you, and you groan loudly in his ear.

“Say you are going to fuck me til I can't walk straight,” you command through gritted teeth.

“Okay… that,” he stumbles, still slightly stunned by the speed and ferocity this is happening at.

“Say it!” you demand.

“You already did!”

You grab his face and make him look into your eyes. “Ben. I need you to say the filthiest things to me. I'm so horny, please; don't be embarrassed.”

“We are at work! Isn't it enough we are doing this in full view of London and its recently arrived visitors!?” his voice slightly incredulous, gesturing vaguely at the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the crowds pouring out of St Pancras International a couple of storeys below.

“The glass is mostly reflective; they can probably barely see us,” you dismiss, hands grabbing his bottom and sinking fully onto his cock. “Fuck yesssss!” you hiss, eyes rolling back at the sheer delight of being so filled again.

“Is this revenge?” he exhales raggedly, a hand heavy on your hip as he adjusts to your heated cling. “Fucking in Ant’s office? Cos your PA told you he fucked Kate in yours?”

“Maybe,” you look askance, feeling called out but still pushing up onto tiptoes and sinking back down again as he groans with you.

His face morphs into a crooked grin, and his tone changes. “Well, why didn't you say before?” his voice turning into a velvet rumble. 

You gasp as he grabs one of your legs, hooks it over his arm and proceeds to take control just as you wanted. You moan your appreciation as he immediately starts to slam into you. You make a quick mental note that family oneupmanship is apparently an excellent motivator for him before you lose all capacity for thought.

If HR ever finds out about this, an executive fucking a junior colleague, there will probably be trouble—so it's a good thing HR reports to you. You co-founded this business with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and have run it successfully together for the last five years. Three months ago, Anthony brought his younger brother into the firm in a decidedly nepotistic hire of in-house graphic designer after his art business stalled. You fought Anthony about the optics of it until about three seconds after you clapped eyes on one Benedict Bridgerton. And then, well, you agreed your company definitely needs someone to design PowerPoint templates or whatever he does. You resisted flirting with him for precisely two weeks, just enjoying his arse walking up and down the corridors every day doing fuck knows what.

But then it was the work party, and honestly, who can be held responsible when Anthony manages to score a whisky sponsorship? You'd be a lousy co-founder if you didn't indulge, frankly. And so you did. And you proceeded to flirt outrageously until Benedict took you up to the roof terrace and had you screaming at the London skyline. Since then, well, you've been together at every opportunity. It's especially thrilling that Anthony doesn't have a damn clue about it, either.

“I'm going to fuck you til you can't walk straight,” he growls, just as you wanted, slamming into you so hard your bra strap catches on the textured wall through your shirt.

“Oh fuck yes,” you mewl your appreciation, tipping forward to bite his neck, not entirely gently, until he hisses and moves faster.

Then, as if he can read your mind, still buried inside you, he suddenly picks you up, spins around, and almost throws you down onto Ant’s glass desk, never leaving your body.

“Oh, you fucking genius,” you compliment, grabbing his shirt greedily and pulling him on top of you, uncaring that you are sending Ant’s stationery and fancy tchotchkes flying. Your mouths meet in an artless, hot-breathed kiss, and then he starts to move again, wrapping your legs around his hips and standing up to drive into you hard.

You start to yell his name and all the praise you can think of, knowing Ant’s office is soundproofed like yours. His cock drags all the places inside that turn off your brain, not capable of anything but chasing more and now and more again. 

“Not so sure the glass is particularly reflective, by the way,” he states almost casually as he keeps pounding into you. “Pretty sure we are drawing a crowd.”

“Then fuck me really good,” is your only breathy response, unwilling to tip your head back and look down at the people below. At least at this angle, they shouldn’t be able to see his cock ploughing into you. And everything else is covered by clothing… mostly. You could just be having a very vigorous wrestling match. Kind of.

“Exhibitionist, hmm?” he hums, leaning over you and kissing down your neck.

“You’re the one who took me on the roof terrace our first time,” you point out, closing your eyes and enjoying the slide of his warm lips on your skin as he thrusts so deep you swear you’ll still feel it tomorrow.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs, bemused, a little out of breath now, his tongue lathing hot on your throat.

Then, there’s no talking for a while as you skate closer to your peaks. Desperate hands grab bodies and table edges, growling and moans, hot wet kisses, the sturdy glass desk withstanding his harsh strokes even as your whole body rolls on the surface. 

Then, with a dangerous smirk, he winds a hand between your bodies and flicks his thumb against your clit, and you scream. It’s the little extra sensation you need to break, calling his name, your nails scratching down his clothes, biceps clinging to him as your pussy clenches hard around him, floating somewhere on a blissful cloud, eyes screwed shut, as he growls at your vice-like grip on his cock. A few artless thrusts, and then he is stilling, groaning loudly in your ear and collapsing on top of you as he spills inside.

After a few panted moments, you feel yourself returning to the room, the power of speech returning.

“Oh god, that was just what I needed,” you huff, sated, a fuzzy, languid, bone-deep satisfaction only he can seem to provide. 

“You are welcome, boss,” he sasses with a playful smirk.

“You don’t report to me,” you point out, swatting his arm gently.

“Shame… I think I’d get an excellent review and a hefty raise if I did,” he gloats a little, dropping a quick kiss on your lips.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” you volley back, pushing him off your body and standing up, shuffling your skirt back down your legs. 

You feel a little unsteady in your gait as you dip down to collect your underwear from the floor.

“There are, however, two things you can do for me?” you smile as he rezips.

“Anything…” 

“Tidy your brother's desk,” you nod towards the mess. He rolls his eyes, accepting his fate, seeing as it was his decision to throw you upon it.

“And?” He prompts you for the second thing as you make final adjustments to your appearance.

“Be naked in my bed by the time I get home,” you breeze as you reach for the office door handle. “Feel free to tie yourself spread eagle to the bedposts if you’re feeling adventurous,” you end with a wink.

“How exactly am I supposed to do that with only one set of hands?” you hear him call after you as the door closes behind you.

With a huge grin, you saunter down the corridor, phone in hand, already texting him a reply.

Y/N: You’ll figure it out. You’re the artist, after all.

BB: I’m a landscape painting artist, not an escape artist.

Y/N: potayto, potatoh…

BB: I’m getting a round of applause from what looks like a stag do outside, by the way…

Y/N: See? There’s your glowing performance review. 

BB: … 🤷‍♂️

Y/N: 😘

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