#none of the assignment questions click in my brain

[woodfrogs]

literally cannot fail the class with my take home exam 🎉

[rosenclaws]

XXX.Com || Pornstar Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: Logan needs money and work is hard to find when you're from another universe, luckily he lands himself a job as an adult film actor. Lets just say, he's a natural.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, porn (obvi lol), jerking off, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, scratching, oral f!receiving, rough sex, fake professor x college student (its the porno they're filming), he calls you teach in the porno, reader has a stage name (sunshine), flirting.

a/n: This was inspired by the delicious pornstar logan fics by @bpmiranda I wanted to try my own twist on the trope but plz go check out their fics they are amazing!!

Coming from another universe had its fair share of problems. For one his other self was a very well known hero so people were constantly staring. The other issue was working. He needed money if he ever wanted to move out of this god forsaken place. He’s sick of seeing wade walk around naked at 8 in the morning.

He needs his space and to get that he needs money but getting a job with none of the required paperwork was hard. He had to settle for doing odd jobs that paid cash under the table. Those were fine but he needed something more stable.

When Wade suggested he turn to adult films he rolled his eyes at another attempt at shitty humor from his roommate but the more he thought about it the less it seemed like a joke. The money was good and hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. So fuck it. How he found the right place was a long story but he ended up getting hired pretty quickly.

As the director put it. He's sexy and big in more ways than one. To Logan's surprise they didn't seem to care much that he was from another universe but they did have to make sure he wasn't a total creep which he understood.

The first video he was assigned to was pretty basic. Just fucking a girls brains out or something. Whatever the hell people were in to these days, he didn't really care. As long as he got paid. He had to get used to the prying eyes of the cameras.

Still he said his lines, albeit it took him a couple takes to say them naturally. His gruff voice and rippling muscles skyrocketed him to the top. Despite being a rookie he attracted a lot of attention and even garnered a reputation within the studio. No one could deny the raw animal magnetism this man seemed to have.

"Logan! Good news, your next video is going to be a with one of the most popular stars in our studio." The directors over the top enthusiasm makes Logan's eyes roll but he grunts out a response.

"Her name is Sunshine. Look her up. Anyways be here tomorrow by nine." Sunshine? Logan chuckles to himself as he leaves the studio.

Fake names are not uncommon but he's yet to find one that sounds so...perky. Still his curiosity gets the better of him as he steals Wades laptop in the dead of night. Searching in the name and scanning the results. Logan works with many attractive people in this job but the moment he lays eyes on you something shifts.

You aren't just attractive, you're drop dead gorgeous. He clicks on a video and his cock tightens in his pants. The faces you make don't look over the top or rehearsed. They almost look real. But Logan can tell you're faking it.

Your moans are sweet but he can tell whoever this boy is that's got his cock in you isn't doing his job very well. Still ever the professional you are you make it work. He falls down a rabbit hole of video after video. Shutting the laptop as the clock reads two in the morning. His cock is hard and painful as he puts Wades laptop back on the counter.

Fuck he needs a shower.

The ice cold water hits his back but it's not helping. He wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his noises to a minimum as he jerks himself off to the thought of you. He bites his lip as he thinks of every way he can make you scream tomorrow. Show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man.

The sinful thoughts that fill his head drive him over the edge. He slams his hand against the shower wall as he comes. The water running down his back as he catches his breath. You've already got him interested, he just hopes he can put on a real show tomorrow.

-

When Logan gets to the studio the director tells him the "plot" of this video. Plot being a very loose term here. He's supposed to be the failing college senior while you play the hot young professor. They hand him a white button up a size too small and some fake glasses. He laughs as they place the glasses onto his face.

"No one's going to fucking buy this." The buttons threaten to bust open as they start to fix his hair.

"I don't know, you look pretty convincing to me." He looks up to see you smiling at him.

Already dressed in your shoot clothes with your makeup and hair all done. He shamelessly looks you up and down, licking his lips as his eyes settle on your cleavage.

"I'm a little old to be playing a college student don't you think?" You shrug and walk closer to him. You take your hands and run them through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that stick up but they don't want to listen.

"Don't think any one is watching these for the realism Logan." You wink as you then move to fix his glasses.

He clenches his jaw as he tries to contain the raging boner. He shouldn't be hard yet but here he is. You're driving him crazy.

"Promise to go easy on you, don't want to scare my new favorite coworker." You tease. Your nails scratch along his jaw, just for a moment but it's enough to drive him wild.

"I'm your favorite already Sunshine?" Logan says with a grin.

"For now, don't prove me wrong when the cameras are on us." You walk away and Logan enjoys every second of it. Oh this is going to be fun.

-

"Come on teach, your class is the only one I'm failing. I need to get a C to graduate." Logan's massive frame towers over your desk. His lines come out much more flirty than its supposed to but you roll with it.

"You need a lot of extra credit to make up the missing assignments Mr. Howlett." You stand up and walk over to where he was standing.

Pushing on his chest to get him to sit. You smirk when you see the buttons on his shirt fighting for their life. You sit on top of the desk and pretend to think.

"I'll do anything you want. Anything" Logan growls, his hand resting on your thigh now. Slowing inching up your leg, stopping right at the hem of your pencil skirt. You place your heel onto his shoulder. Spreading your legs so that Logan and the camera can see your lack of panties.

"Well, lets see how bad you want it." You taunt.

Your voice is smooth as butter and it drives him nuts. Logan gets on his knees. Ripping your skirt apart with ease making you gasp. That wasn't in the script but fuck it made you wet. His muscles are bulging in that damn shirt and you want to see what's underneath in person. Sadly that was going to have to wait as he trails kisses up your legs. Wet and sloppy as his grip on your hips is ironclad.

The camera moves to capture Logan's face. Seeing the primal hunger in his eyes as he grabs the hem of your panties with his teeth, dragging them down. He stands up with them still in his mouth. You grab onto his shirt and rip it open. Raking your nails down his very toned chest. You grab your underwear out of his mouth and toss it to the side.

"Good boy." You purr as you push on his shoulders.

He gets back onto his knees and wastes no time diving into your cunt. You fall back onto the desk as Logan takes you apart with his tongue. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips with ease. There is no need to fake your pleasure with him between your legs.

He's hungry, ravenous. Logan can't get enough. He holds your legs apart, keeping you from closing them as he zeros in on your clit. He's ruthless. Refusing to give you a moment to breathe as he loses himself in your pussy.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." He growls off script. If he wasn't bringing you to orgasm you'd wonder what he meant by that. You wonder if he watched your videos just like you had.

"Logan!" You moan as your legs start to shake under the intense pleasure.

"That's it teach, let me taste you come on." His dirty mouth makes your head spin.

Your eyes squeezing tight as he pushes you over the edge. You barely even notice the camera as it positions itself over Logan's shoulder. Logan resist the urge to break the damn thing as it gets in his way. He feels a push on his shoulder and he growls. Reluctantly he gets out of the way and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"I have an idea teach," Logan purrs. He pulls you off the desk. Wrapping an arm around you and grinding his clothed cock against your thigh.

"For every orgasm I can pull out of you, you raise my grade by a letter." He breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. You sigh as his hands start to grope and squeeze your breasts.

"What do you say?" He grins as he feels you squirm under his touch. He unbuttons your blouse and tosses it to the side. Mouth watering as he buries his face in your breasts.

"You better get to work then Mr. Howlett. You're at a D right now." You turn around and bend over the desk. His hands run along your body before he unbuckles his pants.

"I'll show you a D." He grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at his words.

The camera moves to show your face as Logan slides his cock inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure as he gets to feel your tight cunt. Now this is what he was waiting for.

"Come get a shot of this." He whispers to himself.

He drags his cock out slowly. He watches in awe as your cute pussy just sucks him up. Your hands are digging into the desk, clawing at the wood as Logan's massive cock pushes its way in. You knew he was big but to actually feel it in person. Fuck.

"That feel good? You like my big cock hm?" Logan's cocky tone makes you moan as he picks up his pace. He's pummeling your poor pussy with no mercy. Your moans are as real as they can get as you cry and whine with each thrust.

"Logan oh god!" Your eyes cross as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

No one's ever hit that before. You're falling apart. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath but your moans quiet down because of it. Logan doesn't like that one bit. You groan as you feel his hand grab your hair. He pulls you up so that your back is arched. His cock somehow pushing its way deeper.

"Come on baby, don't hide from me." He whispers in your ear. He wraps an arm around your chest to hold you up. Your nails dig into his arm to ground yourself.

"Feel so fucking good, jerked myself off last night to your videos." He mumbles so only you can hear. You don't understand how a man can have so much stamina. He doesn't even seem tired.

"So fucking close I can feel it baby. I can feel the way your cunt clenches around my fat cock. I can hear her pulsing for me." His eyes grow dark as he feels you start to lose it.

His rough fingers sliding down to play with your cunt. It's a filthy sight to watch. You've forgotten about the cameras and the crew. The only thing you can feel is Logan. He's taken over your mind, your senses.

"That's it pretty girl." He bites your shoulder and the pain mixes with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You wail as you come hard around his cock. Logan groans in pleasure and comes before he can really stop himself. Filling you up nice and full as you babble incoherently. You can barely get your lines out as you float between the real world and cloud nine.

"You got your C Mr. Howlett." You've never been this wrecked after a scene before but Logan has completely ruined you. You grin at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you.

"You know, I've always wanted an A." He's grinning like the devil as he thrusts his hips once more making you cry out.

He's still fucking hard. He really is every porn studios wet dream. Hot, sexy, can go for round after round. The director calls cut but Logan doesn't let go of you. You've got this dazed look in your eyes and he gently lays you down on the desk.

"You alright?" He grunts as he slips out of you. His cock still standing straight as someone brings him a robe. He grabs a towel from one of the PA's and gently wipes up your legs. You whine as the rough material brushes against your poor pussy.

"Sorry." You just smile in response. You haven't had a fuck this good in a long time. A crew member brings you a robe and you put it on.

"You really know how to use that thing. For a second I thought you were the seasoned professional." You joke as you try and get off the desk. You stumble and Logan is quick to catch you.

"What can I say Sunshine, you made it easy." He flirts. The director calls his name and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't keep him waiting Logan. I'll see you soon." Another crew member comes to help you as Logan lets you go.

Thankfully this was all you had for the week and you could go home and soak in a bath. Your poor legs are going to need it. After signing a few things and getting next weeks shoot list you can finally go home.

"Sunshine, hope I didn't fuck you too good." Logan says with a wink. He's waiting outside of the studio, a cigar in his mouth.

"I regret whatever I said before, your ego is going to get too big." You joke. He shrugs and puts out his cigar on the ground.

"You got any plans?" He asks. Your dressed in normal clothes now, nothing remotely revealing but Logan still thinks you look gorgeous.

"I could take you to lunch, if you're interested." He offers.

You haven't thought about dating since you started working in this industry. You didn't need a partner and it could be hard trying to find one who understood your job. But Logan flashes that handsome smile and for some reason you can't resist.

Maybe your working backwards here. He fucks you and then you go to lunch but hey, nothing about him is conventional anyways.

"Yeah, lunch sounds good."

Its just lunch, you tell yourself. It's only a meal with your hot coworker. If things were to go further though you wouldn't complain. Certainly not when he's as handsome as he is. You definitely wouldn't mind taking him back to your place and you're certainly okay when he promises he can go for more rounds away from the prying eyes of the camera. But for now it's just lunch. He pays and you give him your number.

Logan and you part ways and he prays he sees you again. Not just at work but outside of it too. You've got him hooked. The video gets uploaded and explodes in popularity. Praising how realistic it felt and how hot both of you were. He gets a call from the director, expecting another update on his next shoot.

"Great news man! Sunshine wants to do exclusive shoots with you. Oh this is going to make us so much money." He tunes out the rambling as his phone dings. A smirk appearing on his face when he sees a text with your name pop up.

Want to rehearse our next scene? my place 7pm <3

[hairstevington]

Teleplatonic

Summary: Robin starts hearing voices in Click's class. Well, it's one voice. A dude. Some douchebag jock who Robin's unrequited love has a thing for. Could high school be any worse? (5K words)

Warnings: Not much just Steve and Robin being platonic soulmates, mention of Steddie and Stommy backstory, Click's class and Scoops Ahoy era Stobin, the coming out scene (my beloved)

A/N: Many thanks to my discord ( @strangerthingswritersguild ) who encouraged me to take my silly idea and turn it into a cute lil fluffy one shot about the power of platonic loveeeee. Ao3 link here for those interested!

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

At first, Robin thought she was going crazy.

Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised her. She was already a closeted lesbian in the eighties, so she was doomed anyway. Might as well add schizophrenia to the list. 

Click’s class was a mixed bag. On one hand, Tammy Thompson. On the other, Steve Harrington.

Ugh. 

Robin had been in love with Tammy Thompson since the fifth grade, when they split a candy bar the day after Halloween. Robin wasn’t allowed to eat much candy growing up, thanks to her father being a dentist. Tammy extended an olive branch by means of chocolate nougat, and Robin had been smitten ever since. 

This was their first class together in high school, and it was supposed to be amazing. Robin was going to work up the courage to really talk to Tammy and maybe even be her friend. Yeah, it might torture Robin even more, considering the crush that was clearly not going to go anywhere - Robin had watched Tammy date enough guys to know there was no chance, and even if there was, Robin was far too anxious to do anything about it. 

But still.

The first day of Click’s class came, and it was perfect. Robin was paired up with Tammy to discuss an assignment, and they were getting along beautifully. Robin even made her laugh! 

Robin was an idiot who got her hopes up, and those hopes were immediately dashed when Steve “The Hair” Harrington rolled into the classroom, late, and plopped himself down right in front of Robin.

Immediately, Tammy’s eyes were on him, and they stayed on him the rest of the year. It didn’t matter when he got bagel crumbs everywhere, or asked stupid questions, or laughed along when kids were being made fun of. None of that mattered, because Tammy didn’t care. 

Robin hated Steve Harrington so much she never stopped thinking about him. She thought about how much she hated him, how much she wished he’d flunk out, and she even thought about ways she could sabotage him so he would flunk out.

But Robin was a good person, and she could never do something like that. 

Anyway, thank goodness she was smart, because she barely paid attention in that class and still got an A. The problem was, she started hearing voices.

Well, no. She heard one voice, singular. A man, no less. 

At first it was so soft, she figured someone was whispering behind her. She couldn’t even make out the words most of the time, so it didn’t matter. She’d look at Tammy, and she’d look at Steve, and everything else was a blur. 

Over time, the voice got louder, and then Robin couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

This class is such a snooze. 

Honestly, it was. Robin would have been thinking the same thing, had she been paying attention. But then, the voice started saying things she didn’t agree with. Things she would never think. 

Napoleon looks just like Aunt Margaret’s baby. Ha, that’s funny. I’m funny.

The voice continued, saying even stranger things. Usually very sexual things. Sometimes, downright offensive things. It was maddening.

Mrs. Buckley was a psychotherapist, so Robin grew up surrounded by literature about psychology and the human brain. She was aware of crazy people that heard voices, and she had no option other than to accept that she was on the road to becoming one of those people. It was just…it was weird though, because she only heard the voice at school. And it was always loudest in Click’s class. 

The possibility that she was reading someone’s mind did occur to her, but that seemed impossible. It was impossible, so she had a hard time even letting herself think that. Yeah, Robin would have rather found herself crazy than let herself believe she was a superhero. Her mom would have had a field day unpacking that one with her.

Anyway, she finally put all the pieces together a few weeks in, after another particularly boring lecture in Click’s class. 

I’m so lost.

Literally how? They were just reviewing information they’d already learned. She wondered if maybe this voice was a manifestation of her low self esteem or something. She wished she would have been able to tell her parents without worrying about being sent to the loony bin.

“Steve?” Mrs. Click called. “Can you name the four presidents depicted on Mount Rushmore?”

The voice continued.

Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. I’m screwed. Why is she asking me of all people? Do I look like I know the goddamn answer? 

It was the first time the voice was responding. Robin’s head started reeling.

“Uhhhh -” Steve began. “Well, it’s, uhhh….” Okay, four presidents. I can name four presidents. If they’re wrong, she’ll move on.  “George Washington…”

“Very good,” Mrs. Click encouraged.

Right on, okay. Shit. Is Benjamin Franklin a president? He seems like he should be. 

Robin’s breath hitched as she froze, recognizing the two voices as the same and officially coming to terms with her predicament. She gasped, cupping her hand over her mouth. A few people turned to look at her, including Steve, who only glanced at her before looking back at the front of the classroom.

Steve cleared his throat and sat up. “Uhh, what about all the presidents that aren’t on Mount Rushmore, right? Like - like Teddy Roosevelt. That guy was a total badass.” Steve folded his arms, as if he’d made an incredible, life changing point.

“Theodore Roosevelt is one of the presidents on Mount Rushmore, Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. Click said.

“Oh,” Steve replied, caught off guard. Fuck. “Oh, right. I mean, that’s what I was trying to say.”

You’re an idiot, Steve. A goddamn idiot.

Robin couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, in a way. She hated him, but still. He was a person with feelings. He couldn’t help that he was an idiot.

She raised her hand.

“Mrs. Click, I know the answer,” Robin announced. The teacher gestured for Robin to take over. “George Washington, Theodore Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, and Thomas Jefferson.”

Thank God for band geeks. 

Robin sighed. Sure, she’d helped him. But he was still a douchebag.

-

The class carried on like this. Any time Robin felt any sort of connection to Tammy, she’d get distracted by the idiot who’s hair wasn’t even that good. It certainly didn’t warrant a whole nickname over. Steve “I don’t care” Harrington would have been more accurate. 

That’s the part that drove Robin the most crazy. He didn’t care about Tammy. He didn’t care about school. He didn’t care about history. Why was he there? Why was his one true talent being the absolute bane of her existence?

I have to stop thinking about it. 

Robin’s ears perked up, which was a silly phrase considering she wasn’t hearing soundwaves. The whole, “I’m hearing Steve Harrington’s inner thoughts” had lost its luster. Like, she thought she was going crazy, then she thought she was going crazy in a different way, and then she realized she was just cursed. 

Worst. Superpower. Ever.

Especially because she couldn’t hear anyone else! What made Steve different? Why him, of all people???

Grow up, Steve. It doesn’t mean anything.

The voice sounded much more somber that day. Robin leaned back, closer to Steve’s seat, even though the idea of her being physically closer was a bit arbitrary.

Ugh, but Tommy looks so good today.

Wait, did he say Tammy? Was he finally giving Tammy the time of day?

What I’d give to kiss him again…

Robin’s eyes bulged out of her head. She practically fell out of her chair, causing alarm to the rest of the class. 

‘Him?!?!’ Steve wanted to kiss ‘him?!?!’ Wait - Steve had this friend - Tommy H - and, ugh, that guy was even worse than Steve. He was meaner, and stupider, and - 

STEVE WANTED TO KISS A GUY?! AGAIN?!

Robin scrambled back into her seat, muttering a quiet apology, and everything around her returned to normal. 

She didn’t, though. Nothing would ever be normal again.

-

Robin survived Click’s class. Steve started getting a reputation. She didn’t talk to him, but there was nothing discreet about the way he was seen prancing through the halls with his arm around a different girl every week. 

None of them were Tammy. Robin hated how relieved that made her. 

It was strange. He was drooling about Tommy in his mind any time Robin was close enough to hear it, but on the outside, he was pretending to be something completely different.

For the first time, Robin realized she and Steve had something in common.

The following year, she avoided him at all costs. They didn’t have any other classes together, so she really only had to worry about casually passing him in the halls or sitting near him in the cafeteria. It just felt too real to be around him. She knew something she wasn’t supposed to, and that made her feel…icky.

Of course, they were at the same school, so they did run into each other a few times. Once, he literally bumped into her when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Woah, sorry,” he said with a laugh. Do I know her?

Robin rolled her eyes, and then she saw his gaze drift. Ugh, Carol. Why is he even dating her?

She ran away without another word, like a scared little mouse. He probably thought she was this weird, hyper, super-nerd, but whatever. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, and she wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out.

Then, one day, she saw Tommy and Steve running off to talk in private, and curiosity got the best of her.

She had to know what was going on, okay? She was borderline obsessed with Steve at this point. She was far past trying to figure out what was going on in her head, so she settled for learning more about what was going on in his.

Besides, if they really wanted the conversation to be private, they would have gone somewhere that didn’t have a spot nearby prime for snooping.

She listened in from behind a wall.

“What are you on about, Harrington?” Tommy asked.

He’s not even listening. I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore.

“I’m just saying, she’s - like, what are you doing, man?”

There was a slam of a body against a locker. 

“I got a girlfriend,” Tommy drawled. “You should try it sometime.”

God, his lips are so close. I could just lean in and - no. No, I have to get over this. I can’t keep doing this.

“Maybe I will,” Steve said.

About a week later, he was dating Nancy Wheeler.

Their paths didn’t intersect much at all after that. Robin did think about meddling or investigating the situation more, but it wasn’t her business. Steve kept telling himself he had to move on, and she did too.

She still thought about Steve constantly, but it was hard not to. He was literally in her head. Sometimes she’d pass by him and hear total nonsense. I’d rather be fighting a goddamn demodog than go to math. Most of the time he just thought about what superpowers he’d have. 

And then, mercifully, he graduated.

-

That summer, Robin got a job slinging ice cream at a nautical-themed store in Starcourt Mall. She had to wear a stupid outfit, but, like - she was in the marching band, she was used to that. The job was fine, albeit boring. It gave her extra money so she could save up for…something, eventually. She didn’t know what yet. Maybe college? Every penny counts and all that.

But one fateful day in June, the voice came back.

No, no, no. I can’t go in there, not like this. It’s humiliating. I’ll - no, get over yourself. It’s just a job. You stupid pathetic loser, can’t even get into college. No, shh. This will be good for you. Just - oh my God, just go in!

Robin didn’t even look up from wiping the counter when her new coworker approached. She didn’t have to.

He was different than when he’d been in high school. He was sadder. It was even more miserable to hear him ramble on about his innermost insecurities than it was to hear him think about boobs. 

Like, at least Robin also thought about boobs. She was insecure too, but that meant there was no space in her brain to hear anyone else’s thoughts about themselves. 

The weird thing was, he didn’t think about Tommy at all, and he was flirting with every woman that came in. Unsuccessfully, but still. 

It was…incredibly surreal, her becoming friends with someone and hearing them become friends with her at the same time. Robin could hear him trust her more and more as the days went by. She could hear him change his initial assumptions about her. She could hear him soften up, open up, and show her that he’d changed. He was different than he’d been in Click’s class. He’d left his high school persona behind.

She could hear him slowly fall for her.

That was the worst part of the whole thing by far. Worse than Click’s class. Worse than holding his secret feelings for Tommy, worse than the stupid questions and musings that made no sense. He was starting to love her, and she was starting to love him - but, she knew the types of love weren’t the same. She would disappoint him, and she’d lose him. 

How strange it was to fear losing something she used to loathe having at all.

-

Honestly, by the time they were stuck in that elevator, she’d been prepped on everything based on Steve’s thoughts alone. There was too much going on for anyone to question her lack of freaking out. Besides, it’s not like Steve or Dustin were the poster children for good decisions under pressure. 

At least, she figured they wouldn’t be. 

Erica was strong and capable, but she was a child. So was Dustin, but it was abundantly clear to Robin that this wasn’t his first rodeo. Same with Steve, but she knew that already. Over the few weeks of them working together, she’d heard all kinds of things. Things she’d once brushed off as nonsense, that became too specific to ignore. The Upside Down. The Russians. Eleven. The Mindflayer. 

Robin thought it was part of some game, at first. Dustin was into Dungeons and Dragons, right? She was pretty sure the Mindflayer was from that, but no. Steve wasn’t into Dungeons and Dragons at all - she checked - and she started hearing more about experiences rooted in the real world. She heard about what really happened to Barb, and how it ripped Steve and Nancy apart. She heard about how Nancy ran off with Jonathan, and how Steve let her. She heard about Steve becoming a babysitter in the thick of it, because he had to. She heard about how he got himself beat up in the name of protecting them. 

And then she watched him get beat up again, in the name of protecting her. 

She did love him. Yeah. It was against everything she’d ever believed, but she loved Steve Harrington. She just didn’t love him like that.

-

She tried to tell him when they were on the floor, tied to the chair, and seemingly with only hours left to live, if that.

She started laughing. She wasn’t sure what else there was to do.

Fuck, that hurt. Oh shit, she’s crying. “It’s okay, don’t cry. Robin.” Ugh, the way he was trying to comfort her even in the worst of times. It made her ache. She kept laughing, louder now. “Wait, are you laughing?”

Yup.

“Yeah.”

What the hell is wrong with this woman? 

“Jesus.”

“I just can’t believe,” she began, “that I’m going to die in a secret Russian base with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. It’s just too trippy, man.”

It was trippy for even more reasons than he could ever know.

Yeah, you’re telling me. We’re screwed. “We’re not gonna die,” he said. Another annoying consequence of this whole mind reading thing was that she would always know when he was lying. “We’re gonna get out of here, I just gotta think for a second.”

“Sure, please do,” Robin insisted, still laughing. Him thinking consisted mostly of, shit shit shit oh my God shit what do we do?  

But Steve rarely let that side show. He was so much different on the inside, all the time. 

“Do you remember, um - Sophomore year Mrs. Click’s history class?”

Oh, shit. That just slipped out. Then again, they were gonna die, so…

“What?”

Robin continued. “Mrs. Clickety-Clackety. That’s what all us band dweebs called her. It was first period - Tuesdays and Thursdays - so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast. Bacon egg and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself. Do you even remember me from that class?”

No. 

He didn’t say it, and he didn’t have to. “Of course you don’t,” Robin continued. Thoughts of that year came flooding back to her like a tsunami. “You were a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But it didn’t even matter that you were an ass, I was still obsessed with you." The words were pouring out of her now. "Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just want to be popular. Accepted. Normal.”

His thoughts were a mere buzzing in the background of her confession, but she did pick out him lighting up at her mentioning her obsession. She immediately wished she’d just been totally honest, because now she was being misconstrued. 

“If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn’t all that great,” he said.

She knew that by now. She’d learned it through him. 

“Steve, I -”

“I wish I’d known you back in Click’s class,” Steve said. “Maybe you would have helped me pass.”

“I did,” she confessed. “Or, at least I tried.”

“What?”

A buzzer shook them away from their conversation. She’d missed her chance. It was over.

And then came the truth serum. That damned, terrifying, life-changing, blessed truth serum. 

Well, that and Dustin saving their asses with a cattle prod.

After that came more laughter and terror and running and even more laughter and more running and then they were in an elevator back up to the real world again. She was with her friend and she was ecstatic. It was like she was floating. She’d never so much as had a sip of alcohol, but this is what she always imagined musicians felt like when they wrote all those songs about being on drugs.

Popcorn. Back to the Future. Laughing, laughing, laughing. You know, the weird part about that truth serum was that she stopped hearing Steve’s thoughts, if only for a bit. He said everything he thought, so it really just sounded like an echo, and everything sounded like an echo to her. The colors were bright. The noises were loud. And Steve was - 

Oh, no. Steve was her best friend. 

They both got sick and ran for the bathroom. There was that rare moment of calm that, up until that point, she never thought she’d have again. 

“You think we puked all that shit out of our system?” he asked.

Well. There was only one way to find out.

“Maybe,” Robin responded. “Ask me something.”

If he could read her mind, he would have heard something like - Ask me if I’m gay. Please, do this for me like I did for you. I don’t think I can say the words.

Instead, he asked her when the last time she peed herself was. She answered truthfully, but that wasn’t a truth she was scared to admit. They were being tortured earlier - peeing herself was the least of her worries.

“Alright, my turn,” Robin said. She took a deep breath and pondered the question, knowing that whatever she asked she likely already knew the answer to. But it wasn’t about knowing. It was about getting to the conversation she needed to have. If she didn’t do it now, she never would. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Steve answered quickly. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler, first semester, senior year.” 

He didn’t mention Tommy, which was intriguing. From Robin’s point of view, he had dated her for show. Or, he’d dated her because Tommy rejected him.

“Really?” Robin asked, amused. “But she’s such a priss.”

Yeah, until she threatened to shoot me. “Hm,” Steve replied. “Turns out, not really.”

Woah. Okay. Evidently, Robin didn’t know everything yet.

“Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.”

Robin took a deep breath and put her head in her hands. This needed to happen, but she was still so scared. Even if he wasn’t homophobic, he loved her, and she was about to turn him down. How could their friendship sustain that? What would happen if he hated her guts, and she had to hear him think it every time they interacted?

She listened to him list off all the reasons he liked her. She was funny. She was smart. She was cool. Beautiful. He said all the things she’d heard him say in so many ways on the inside, but now it was real. 

She couldn’t find any words to respond.

“Robin, did you just O.D. in there?”

“No,” she replied, her voice shaking. “I am still alive.”

He slid himself under the stall against the disgusting floor so he could face her. Oh, great. This wasn’t going to help at all.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“Steve, I have to tell you something,” she said. “That thing I told you earlier, about being obsessed with you in Click’s class - it wasn’t - it wasn’t because I had a crush on you.”

He listened so intently his mind went quiet.

Robin told Steve about Tammy Thompson, and she saw him process it in real time. It didn’t take long, once he understood what she was referring to.

“Oh,” he finally said. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Holy shit.”

This is huge. I should tell her about Tommy. I should - I could - I finally have someone I can talk to about it.

“Steve, did you O.D. over there?”

“No, just thinking.”

I - I can’t. I can’t do it.

So instead, he did what he did best, and he made her laugh. And then the entire moment became focused on that, and how insane it was for them to be on the floor of the Starcourt bathroom after having spent days underground being tortured by Russians. 

She didn’t get to tell him her other secret that day. They were quickly interrupted yet again by Dustin and thrust back into the madness. 

But it didn’t matter. She knew she’d still have a friend once they saved the world.

-

After Starcourt “burned down” (Robin had to admit, she kind of loved officially being a part of the inner circle. She was now involved in the madness, and even though it was terrifying and awful and traumatic, it was so much more exciting than her world used to be), Robin and Steve decided to keep working together, because of course they did. 

He had her secret, and she had his. He still didn’t know about that second part though.

They got a job at Family Video, thanks to her excellent ability to think on her feet and ramble until people gave her what she wanted. Keith was relatively easy to persuade. 

After she came out to him and they became best buds, reading his mind developed into more of an echo all the time when it was just the two of them, because he told her everything he was thinking exactly the way he thought it. 

There was only one thing he left out. 

Tom Cruise is so hot. Oh God, do I have a kink for dudes named Tom? 

Then, after Eddie Munson came in a few times - Huh, okay. There goes the Tom theory.

Robin couldn’t take it anymore. So, one day, when Steve was driving her home, she blurted it out.

“Steve, I can read your mind.”

He laughed at first. “What?”

“I can read your mind,” she said. “Just yours.”

“Uhhhh, is this some kind of weird joke?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “I’m - ugh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I - I’ve felt really awful about it, but I’ve been hearing your stupid thoughts ever since Click’s class, and I tried to tell you that day, but then I ended up telling you the other thing, and this felt like too much, and then we became really good friends and honestly it’s barely a thing anymore because we tell each other everything except for -”

“Wait, what??!” 

Yeah, she knew she sounded crazy. 

“Remember that day Mrs. Click called on you to ask which presidents were on Mount Rushmore? And you totally bombed?”

“No,” Steve said. “That kinda thing happened to me like three times a day.”

“Ugh, okay, well -” Robin stuttered, at least grateful he wasn’t kicking her out of the car. “Never mind. It’s just -”

“It’s only me?” he wondered. His voice was different now. “What am I thinking about right now?”

Robin honed in on his inner voice. “You just thought about how you accidentally stepped on a copy of The Breakfast Club and smashed it, and instead of confessing to Keith you told him that John Dover stole it and never gave it back, even though John Dover isn’t real.”

Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Hoooooly shit,” he said. 

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit!” he repeated.

“I know!”

“Oh, my God!”

“I know!”

“Robin, this is insane!”

“I KNOW!!”

The car went quiet as Steve continued to wrap his brain around this. Well, it was quiet to anyone but the two of them. 

Why is it only me?

“I don’t know,” Robin answered.

“Will you quit doing that?”

“I can’t help it!” she shot back. 

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay, so you’ve been reading my mind for years. Got it. Cool. Totally cool.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not telling you.” 

Steve gave a comforting smile. “Oh, yeah. You should be sorry for that.” Robin smacked him in response, and suddenly they were laughing again. 

“Jerk!” she exclaimed. Once their laughter died down, he hummed in amusement. 

"You know, it's really not fair you can read my mind and I can't read yours."

Robin nodded. "Agreed." There was another moment of silence between them.

“Huh,” he said. “Do you think we’re soulmates?”

Robin cocked her head and furrowed her brow in confusion. “What? Ew, Steve no -”

“Not, like, sexy soulmates,” he clarified.

“Sexy soulmates? Really?” she teased. 

“Give me a break, Buckley,” he replied. “I just found out you’ve been in my head for two years, alright? It’s weird.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah.”

“So,” Steve continued. “You knew about the Upside Down stuff before the elevator thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Which means you also probably know…” 

The Tommy thing. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

“Stop saying yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I guess I just -” Steve sighed, throwing his head back against the seat. “I guess I’m freaking out a little, cuz like - privacy and all that.”

“I wish I could control it, trust me -”

“No, I know that,” he replied. “I mean, shit, if I could be out of my own head I would be. But, like, I don’t know. It’s kinda nice that you’re in there. Like, if it had to be anyone…”

“It would be your non-sexy soulmate,” Robin concluded with a smirk.

Steve returned it. “Oh, I’m gonna regret that, huh?”

“Forever and ever, babe.”

She couldn’t believe it. Finally, everything was out in the open. It was all up from here, right?

“Okay,” Steve said. “Well. If this is happening whether we like it or not, better put it to good use, right?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Steve grinned. Robin’s eyes widened as she heard his idea moments before they were spoken.

“Robin, I’m gonna help you talk to girls.”

WHAT?!

-

This was hopeless and humiliating. How Steve was able to convince her this was a good idea, she would never know. 

Tammy had graduated and gone to Nashville or whatever, but Vickie…

They had so much in common! And she was so pretty, and so sweet, and - and they played right next to each other in the marching band!

Of course, Robin could barely squeak a word out whenever Vickie looked her way. Thus, Steve decided she needed to practice. 

He let her take some of the pretty customers instead of keeping them all for himself. At first, it was rough.

Be cool. Act like you don’t even like her.

“I don’t even like you.”

Okay, not like that. 

It got easier, though. Eventually, Robin started to take hold of that classic Harrington charm. She wasn’t getting numbers or anything, but that’s not what it was about. It was their own special thing that they had. A secret mission. An inside joke. A bit they were fully committed to, even if only for their own enjoyment.

It was so weird and ridiculous, but whatever. 

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington, one-sided mind-reading duo and non-sexy soulmates. Who would have thought?

___________________________

I have no idea who to tag for this (my taglist is based on romantic pairings lmao), so hopefully whoever is interested finds it okay! <3

[min-xiao13-exe]

Stay With Me CH-3

*WARNING: This Chapter has Angsty content, Please skip this chapter if you are uncomfortable with such content. Reading past this Paragraph you are consenting to read such content. If you find this not up to your taste, don't report it and just click off. You are not the only one who reads on this app Thank You! *

TONY'S POV

I was just accessing all of S.H.I.E.L.D's files which even remotely had Y/N written somewhere, anywhere. I came across this file which had the Avengers logo on it. 

I tried to access it but, Fury is a smart bastard and had put a lock on it. Fury ain't the only smart one in this world

Tony quickly managed to open the file and found a very straightforward letter from Fury, Y/N Maximoff is to be assigned as an Avenger. There was a condition for her to become an Avenger, she had to successfully capture all of the Avengers despite their abilities. 

Just as Tony realised what the letter meant JARVIS sent an alert for finding the exact location of Y/N Maximoff. As Tony asked even further about her, Peter got ready to strike as he heard the location but suddenly a purple ball of power came in through the glass shattering it entirely and just in time Tony's suit came completely over his body.

"Banner you want a piece?" Tony said as he analyzed the situation activating his thrusters ready for the attack as all the Avengers assembled and were in combat-ready positions, even Thor and Loki were there. 

" I want a piece, a BIG one," Peter said, burning with rage as he saw his imitator.

"First, That's what she said and second, do you wanna do this the easy way or hard?" Y/N said being very confident.

"Listen, kid, you really gotta think of some other way. Maybe with you behaving less hostile and we too can put our weapons away" Steve said to keep the fight at bay.

"Oh... The fossil is still alive?" Y/N questioned being very sarcastic.

"Yeah, sadly," Pietro said faking sympathy.

"Anyways, How are my favourite cousins?" Y/N said cheerfully

"We're fine, here you go. Pietro will help with the rest" Wanda said handing Y/N an assortment of things

"JARVIS? Give me a scan of all that" Tony said confused as none of his reports said anything about the Maximoff twins being cousins of Y/N.

"YES SIR" JARVIS replied, instantly getting to work.

"JARVIS? Find something?" Tony asked as things started to get blurry.

"SIR YOU ARE SLIPPING INTO A HEADSPACE. PLEASE PULL YOURSELF OUT OF IT. WE MIGHT FACE SOME SERIOUS BRAIN ISSUES. SIR? SIR!?"

Why does everything feel so weird? Why is JARVIS so tense? Where am I? Am I on the old Avengers tower? Is that Pepper?! Is she on the railing?!!

"PEPPER?! HONEY?! GET DOWN FROM THERE!! LISTEN WE CAN TALK THIS THROUGH, YEAH? MAYBE GET A COFFEE BUT FIRST GET DOWN FROM THERE AND COME OVER HERE" 

"No Tony, I deserve this" Pepper said as she jumped off the railing 

Tony ran after her in an attempt to save her but failed as his surroundings changed again and now he was in a dungeon, bound to the wall, with no chance to escape or move, the love of his life getting tortured right in front of him, a voice whispering in his ear which isn't exactly pleasant. 

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!! I SWEAR YOU ARE SO DEAD AFTER THIS AND I PROMISE YOU YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GO WELL!! WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU NO ONE WILL EVEN BE ABLE TO FIND YOUR DEAD BODY" Tony screamed as Pepper started to laugh.

"Pepper are you okay?! Why are you laughing??" Tony asked worriedly. His main weakness was someone harming Pepper and to see it happening in front of him pained him to just watch.

"WELCOME TO THE PANIC ROOM," Pepper suddenly started singing as Tony started feeling chills down his spine

"Honey, what is the Panic Room? And why are you singing that," Tony asked hyperventilating

"IT'S A PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR DARKEST FEARS ARE GONNA COME FOR YOU..." Pepper continued 

"Pepper can you please stop singing like that?! It's creeping me out and where exactly are we?!" Tony asked, he really was now losing it 

"WELCOME TO THE PANIC ROOM, YOU KNOW I WASN'T JOKING WHEN YOU SEE THEM TOO" Pepper sang for the last time as she was blasted to bits with a bomb

"NO!! I WILL KILL YOU NOW IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOUR FACE I WILL FIND YOU FROM EVERY CORNER OF THIS EARTH AND EVERY OTHER PLANET, DIMENSION AND UNIVERSE AND NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOUR EXISTENCE" Tony screamed out in agony as he cried like a baby after seeing the love of his life get killed. 

"Stark, never think I'd see you crying" 

Who just said that?! Oh they are so dead

"Only if you could kill me, you are in my arena. Behave. I can kill you in seconds but you're one of Fury's favourites so I can't even perform physical torture but for now, this will have to do" 

How the hell did she know?! I didn't even say it out loud and who even is this?! 

"Oh, Stark... I thought you would know what Mind Reading and Control are. After all, it's my sister whose the strongest Avenger, not to mention the best."

"Okay first of all who are you?! and second, show yourself!" Tony screamed as the air around him started to feel thin

"Damn! You are still alive in the Panic Room?! I didn't expect it. Honestly, you lasted quite long, Even longer than Rogers and Thor" 

I can't breathe... I need air... 

"Don't worry! You'll be dead before you get any" 

"And I'll enjoy it the most"

[hallibahar]

Adessa & bb!Callista shenanginans

for @lorata

It's like 6am in here but the brainrot is strong and unstoppable which started up as my ramblings about how bb Calli and Adessa met then it evolved into a mini-fic and honestly, we stan two unapologetic, cross-generation murderesses.

Click for absolutely questionable morals

The girl in front of her door is unimpressive with blood soaked up to her elbows and a maniacal look in her eyes. She is new here, Adessa knows this, everyone knows this, they all watched the last days of the 41st to see who was the newest murder-child that will be reborn out of violence and as much as she appreciates a good torture, her appreciation is limited at the ones skills to get away with it—and this girl right here, Callista, is a living proof of it.

Not that any new babies will know how to skin the skin off and get out of the crime scene without leaving a clue behind. It’s sad, but a force of infancy in the end, so Adessa doesn’t dwell on that.

They weren’t introduced to one another yet, but according to that all-teeth-but-no-mirth smile of hers, she already knew who she was, which house she lived in and few key things about her to suggest such an undergrad suggestion to her.

“Go to your mentor.” says Adessa after a well-calculated minute. This winter was the hottest they experienced so far, not a single snowflake on sight thus leaving the children to go wild and do the dumbest things out of sheer boredom.

(Odin, a few days ago, tried to congratulate her birthday by playing a round of chess with her then had the audacity to look insulted when Adessa said she only plays with the intellects that will challenge her, not the ones that use their brains to feed the snails.)

But this one right here, a mere girl who thought she knew everything about killing just because she ripped about bodies and feast on it, tops the cake.

Callista tilts her head, that damn smile never falling, and she narrows her eyes, a failed attempt to scare off a woman who dissected a person on live when the new Victor who probably  couldn’t even read yet at the time. “No,” she says. “I said help me, so you will.”

Adessa raises a brow and tilts her head as well, if this little girl wants to play then she will. “The only person who is assigned to help you is your mentor.” she answers, seemingly calm. “A poorly done job so far as I can see, but trust your elder and go to her.”

Now, this seems to start to annoy the fussy one. Sweet. “And what? So she could ground me once again?”

“Only solution to your murderous outbursts, as far as I’m concerned—which is none.” She reaches for the door knob to close it but a heel gets in between and stops the motion.

“I don’t care what important thing going in your life to not to get me out of this mess—”

“--a lot of things actually, dear. Grown up jobs.”

Callista ignores her as she continues. “--but allowing another fellow murderer to go to prison like a common criminal is not fair in your case.”

Adessa shrugs. “Well, you do act like one.”

Callista breathes out slowly, expression calm but dangerous and oh, it seems like someone will have an outburst yet again and Adessa prepares herself for that lovely scene—except it doesn’t happen. The younger woman squares her shoulders up slightly and grins yet again and huh, now things are getting interesting.

 “Well,” she says after a moment. “It still doesn’t change the fact that some asshole out there is bleeding in some high-class hospital because of a new Victor, a one from Two at that, which would massively affect our, your, future mentorships if you don’t rid me of this. So many kids you helped to raise in that damn Centre just because you decided to ignore me. So…you in or what?”

Adessa doesn’t answer, just stares at the newest Victor like she found a new potential, a promising one at that—unlike Odin who was just too scared to raise a single eyebrow at her let alone his voice. “Well, your first mistake was to admit the body to the hospital.” Adessa says and something shines in Callista’s dark eyes. 

--

Hera is at her door a few days later as predicted and her expression is the one from a statue, stone cold yet passive.“Did you know?”

Which one? Adessa thinks. The fact that your Victor slashed open a sponsor or the fact that I helped her to cover it up for Games’ sake? “Is the thing you want to talk about worthy enough to make me stay in front of my door at the dawn of the day?”

Hera purses her lips at that, probably resisting an eye roll and honestly, Adessa can’t blame her for that. “You decide. Is the fact that the sponsor, who got murdered by my own Victor, the brother of the new President?” she asks and Adessa’s gaze sharpens.

(“Tell me about the details,” Adessa asked as they sat down on her couch. “Did you know who he was or he just was your first trial?”

Callista waits for a second and nods, meaning yes. “Wanted to play the hero for once, I suppose.”)

“Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

Hera looks at her as if she confessed that she carries the organs of the last tribute she dissected on the Arena in her body. “You don’t particularly seem surprised by it, may I ask why?”

Adessa almost grins at that, almost, but now she has to continue the small game Callista started. “Well, Snow is a new face, it is normal for a girl who got blinded by bloodlust wanted to intimidate him to cause us no harm. It’s a normal reaction from a curious girl, I would assume.”

(“Curiosity can also be channelled by doing morally good things like research or doing some form of art.” Iris had said one day, sipping on her tea on a lovely afternoon. “And no, torture doesn’t counts.” she adds with a small, dark smile, reminding Adessa why she still tolerated her disturbingly decent hearted mentor.)

Hera sighs. “It's a good narrative, but still risky.”

(“You think they will believe it?” Callita asks, slightly unsure underneath her skin but nothing comes to surface. Good enough. 

“People will believe what they want to believe.” Adessa waves a hand. “All you have to do i to give what they want to hear.”)

“Tell your Victor to behave then.” Adessa says bluntly. “I know, with no experience from myself means nothing to you, but perhaps she will listen if you give a serious one-on-one talk to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

(Callista nods. “And if it doesn’t, I will just try harder until they do so.”)

Adessa shrugs. “It will if you try hard enough, she still is a human and has 206 bones and numerous systems under her skin. As unruly as she is, she will listen to you if she really wants to continue to thrive.”

(Just don’t let it happen again, dear.” Adessa says. “And we have a deal.”)

--

Darkest consequences, Adessa had learned through many hardships in the mentor station, haunts after most vicious lies.

 Her brand new Victor, Nero, is a living proof at that which only meant one thing—Coriolanus knew. He always knew who was behind the murder of his brother but still played along with it, looked her in the eye and insisted that she must try again to mentor in 42nd as well, even though it would be three in a row.

And here she is now, watching her boy getting crowned out of the Arena which offered nothing; no weapons, no good memories, no healing—just pain but he is alive, at least, he won’t be a corpse even if he was intended to be one by a frenemy of hers.

There is no coincidence in Panem and no good ending for the tributes who got the short end of the stick, so Callista also being here as an observer is a sweet twist in Snow’s bloody game.

 Now, as the trumpets echo through the screens, Callista turns to her, smile as sharp as the non-existent knives in her boy’s Arena and eyes as hard as the rocks he had smashed brains with. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I will remember to do your tricks when he comes up at my door, covered in blood.”

“We will see about that.” she recites without looking a second away from the screen, because this moment here is the closure of what they had done, and she has no intention to let Snow win this.

[drspencerweed]

Dreams Do Come True

Summary/Request: from anon: CONGRATS ON HITTING 500 ILYSM!!! random request,, having a wet dream about spencer while sharing a room on a case (i know, super original) and him getting all hot and bothered hearing you moan 🙈😁

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

W/C: 3484

Content: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, oral sex (both receiving), premature ejaculation, wet dream, sub!spencer

A/N: Hi! So this probably isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I started writing it and it kind of took on a mind of it’s own. I banged this out in two days, it practically wrote itself. I hope you enjoy! 

Masterlist

read on ao3

Sharing a hotel room with her was normal. It was. Sure, they had never done it before, but that was just because Hotch had never randomly assigned the two of them before. So okay, it wasn’t normal by definition. But he wasn’t going to make it weird. Just because he had a small crush on her did not mean that he would let it be weird. They were colleagues, and they even spent time together outside of work too! She would come to his apartment to watch old movies, and he would go to hers so she could cook for him. So he knew he could spend time with her alone, that wasn’t the problem. 

It was the sleeping that was potentially the issue. 

His little crush had been invading his subconscious almost constantly nowadays, and he was known to talk in his sleep. He was so scared he would say something wrong in his sleep. If she overheard something like that, he knew their friendship would never recover. How can you act normal around someone who said your name in their sleep? 

He had been avoiding going to sleep before her, so he had taken Derek up on his offer for a drink in his room to talk about anything but the case they were working. 

“So when are you going to tell [Y/N] that you’re into her?” Derek asked out of nowhere. 

Spencer stuttered around the sip of his drink. “W-Who says I’m interested in her?” 

Derek just laughed and clapped Spencer on the shoulder. His cheeks were burning, a sure sign of his embarrassment at being called out. “Pretty boy, you give her heart eyes every time she walks in a room.” 

His blush deepened. “Even if I was interested, there’s a very low probability that she is also interested. So the answer to your question would be never, obviously.” Derek stopped his giggling and gave Spencer an incredulous look. 

“All that genius and you don’t see how she looks at you?” Derek asked. 

“How she looks at me?” 

“She looks at you like you hung the stars, man.” 

Spencer scoffed, brushing off the comment. “No she doesn’t.” 

Derek started laughing again, “Yes she does! Oh my god, the genius can’t read basic body language?” 

“Even if, occasionally, her body language reflected an attraction to me, it was probably because she was thinking of someone she actually was attracted to.  Statistically, most women find me awkward and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, none of this negative self talk. You’re a catch!” 

Spencer just waved his hand at the comment, taking a long sip of his whiskey and coughing a bit as he swallowed. Derek eyed him curiously. 

“I’m telling you, you’re never gonna get anywhere if you never shoot your shot. The worst thing that could happen is she says no.” Derek advised. He shook his head and finished his drink . 

“The worst that could happen is she thinks I’m an absolute weirdo and never wants to talk to me again.” Spencer explained.

“That’s not going to happen.” Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I can’t risk losing her.” He insisted. Derek sighed and accepted that he was a lost cause, leaning back in his seat and changing the subject. 

~~~~

Spencer made his way back to the room a few hours later, saying a silent prayer to a God he didn’t believe in that she was already asleep. The light was off, so he clicked on the bathroom light so he could see but hopefully not wake her. 

“[Y/N]?” He called quietly into the dark. All he got in response was a small whimper. He thanked his lucky stars and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Once he was all cleaned up and in a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt, he made his way to climb into bed. Just as he swung the sheets off, he heard a low moan from the bed next to him. It stopped him in his tracks. He turned towards her bed, looking at her face for any signs of distress. Nightmares could be debilitating; he knew from experience. But her face was peaceful, beautifully restful. He stopped again for a different reason, taking in the way her face looked as she slept. 

Then it scrunched up as she let out another moan. His eyebrows furrowed, wanting to wake her in case she was having a bad dream, but not wanting to disturb her. He swallowed thickly. 

Another moan. This one was followed quickly by a quick, “Spencer!” He reeled, unsure where his name had come up. Was she dreaming about him? Was she having a nightmare about him? Or was she calling out for his help?

She let a long, drawn out, “Oh,” and rolled from her side onto her back. He took a step forward, planning to shake her awake from what was clearly a nightmare at this point. But suddenly, “Go on, lick me.” 

Spencer stopped with his hands out above her shoulders, inches from waking her. Lick me? He mouthed to himself. What could she possibly be dreaming about? 

“Fuck, Spencer, I’m gonna cum!” She exclaimed, rolling back on her side. And-oh my gosh. Spencer took three quick steps back, realizing far too late exactly what was happening. He was entirely unsure how to react. [Y/N]? Having a sex dream about him? It was unbelievable. On his third step back, he ran right into his bed, and lost his balance. 

He fell to the floor with a crash. 

Her eyes blinked open, and he didn’t have any time to get up or move at all, so her eyes met his immediately upon waking. “Spencer? What happened?” Her voice was tired from sleep.

Spencer blinked, and immediately panicked. He was never good at lying under pressure. “I-uh. You were having a, uhm, dream. And I thought, thought it was a nightmare so-” As he spoke, [Y/N]’s face got redder and redder, and she sat up in bed and placed her face in her hands. 

“Oh no, you didn’t hear anything, did you?” She asked cautiously, barely chancing a glance up at him. He swallowed tightly and nodded. “Fuck me!” She said, throwing her head back on the pillow. Her voice sent something through him, and all he wanted was to say Okay and kiss her. But Spencer knew one didn’t control their own subconscious. Just because she had a dream about him didn’t means she actually wanted it to happen. He scrambled to his feet and cleared his throat. 

Before he could say something, anything really, she was sitting up again with a groan, rubbing her hand over her face. “Well I guess now you know about my stupid crush.” 

“Your crush?” He asked. She looked at him incredulously. 

“You heard me moan your name in my sleep. Yes, obviously, my crush. On you.” She explained matter of factly. He stuttered, trying to allow his brain to process the amount of information he had just been given. It didn’t make sense to him. [Y/N] was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, not to mention one of the most confident. She carried herself with such authority he never thought she’d look twice in his direction. Clearly, she’d want some confident alpha male who could match her energy, not his insecure nervous self. But here she was, telling him point blank that she had a crush on him. 

He didn’t know what to do. While he was standing there, stuttering, trying to gather his thoughts, [Y/N] made her way out of her bed to stand in front of him. She was only wearing a tank top and a pair of small shorts, and he could barely keep himself from staring at her body. “I had no idea.” He finally settled on saying, and she let out a loud laugh. 

“Really? Profiler extraordinaire? No idea? Why do you think I cooked for you so many times?” She smiled at him while she said it, like she couldn’t quite believe he didn’t see it. 

“I thought you just wanted to be friends!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. She seemed to deflate at this, her face falling and wringing her hands together. 

“I did! I do! But I was always open to...more. I just wanted to spend time with you.” She explained, sitting back on the edge of her bed and staring down at her hands. “But you clearly have no interest in that-” 

“No! No.” He corrected quickly, and then realized with a sudden clarity that since her confession he’d done nothing to imply he felt the same. She stared up at him at his exclamation, unsure what he meant. 

“No?” 

“No, you’re wrong, I do have interest in that. In more.” He explained, sitting next to her. He awkwardly reached for her hand, which she offered with a small smile. Lacing their fingers together, he looked her in the eye with purpose. “I also have a crush on you. I stayed out of the room tonight because I was trying to avoid, uhm. What happened to you. I thought that might happen to me.” 

She stared at their entwined hands, and then looked back at him. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” He smiled at her, and her face brightened immediately. She turned completely towards him and pulled him in by the neck, pressing their foreheads together. Spencer let their noses rub together, both of them still beaming. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She whispered, her breath fanning over his lips as she said it. Before he could even nod, her lips pressed to his. It was magic. Her lips were soft and urgent, catching his bottom lip between them. Her hands pulled him closer to her by the neck, and he let his hands find her waist, urging her closer. She climbed into his lap with his guidance, and he let his tongue slip into her mouth as she did it. Her hands roamed into his hair, pushing it off his head and carding her fingers through it, causing him to moan. She giggled into his mouth. 

“You like having your hair played with, baby?” She asked, pulling away to watch his reaction as she tugged on his roots. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let his hands drop to her ass. He squeezed and pulled her down onto him, letting his lips find her neck. She let out a loud groan as he sucked a mark into her pulse point, but she pushed him away with both hands on his cheeks. 

“Not above the collar,” She reminded. He smirked at the idea of everyone on the team knowing what they were doing. At everyone on the team knowing that she wanted to do this with him. 

“But what if I want people to know you’re mine.” He asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as he said it. She smiled at him. 

“I think you’ve got this whole thing wrong then.” 

He furrowed his brow at her, unsure what he could have possibly misunderstood. 

“You, Dr. Reid, are mine.” She said, and then pushed him down onto the bed. He stared up at her perched on his lap, and let his hands roam her body. Now that he had free reign to touch, he never wanted to stop. She sighed and ran her hands down his chest, going to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off of him. Her hands lit fires under his skin, as he gripped her by the hips and rolled his hardness into her. She chuckled at him. 

“Hard already, baby?” She teased. He moaned and threw his head back as she rotated her hips on him. “Use your words.” She ordered, gripping his face to make him look at her. 

“Yes, miss.” He answered on instinct. He immediately froze up, trying to take back the honorific when they had never discussed anything like that. It just slipped out, his little experience with being a submissive taking over because of [Y/N]’s naturally dominant role. But her eyes lit up, and she simply smirked at him. 

“Good boy.” She whispered, and pressed down hard with her hips. 

He came in his pants. 

With a loud groan and a thrust upward, he shot into his sweatpants. She chuckled as he shuddered through his orgasm, and leaned down to kiss him. As soon as he came down from the high, embarrassment overtook him. He had a chance with his dream girl, and he literally blew it not five minutes in. Because she called him a Good boy. He brought his hands up to cover his face, but she caught his wrists before he could reach. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, not ready for the ridicule that was sure to follow.

“Awh, did I make you cum?” She rolled her hips a few times, and he hissed at the oversensitivity.  “That’s so hot.” 

“W-What?” He asked, turning back towards her slowly. She was beaming at him. 

“You were so overwhelmed with me that you came so quick, what’s not hot about that?” She said, stroking his cheek. “The cutest boy, all worked up, just for me.” 

He blushed again, and swallowed as he smiled back at her. “But what about you?” 

“What about me?” She asked. His hands danced along her sides, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples through her shirt. 

“Wanna make you feel good.” He said while she gasped. 

“What’s stopping you?” She asked with a smirk. He surged upwards and began kissing her again, only stopping to finally rip her shirt off of her and get his hands on her bare breasts. Her hands found his hair again and tugged on the strands, causing their mouths to break apart as he panted. 

“Wanna taste you.” He requested. She moaned and pulled him into another kiss, guiding his hands to touch her under her shorts. His fingers trailed through her wetness, and she moaned against his lips. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, while her eyes watched through hooded lids. He moaned around his fingers, the taste of her so intoxicating he wanted more of it.  

“You’re so fucking hot. Such a good, good boy.” She whispered, stroking his hair. Then she crawled off his lap and laid out on the bed next to him. He turned to watch her as she shimmied off her shorts. Her eyes fell to where he was still sucking on his fingers. She gestured him over to her, and he quickly crawled between her legs. She nodded towards him. “Go on then, taste me.” 

He dove in tongue first, with broad licks up and down her pussy. Her hands immediately laced through his hair, pulling him closer to her. His tongue traced from her hole to her clit. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her in, letting his lips latch onto her clit and sucking. Flicking the tip of it with his tongue, she moaned and threw her head back on the pillows. 

“Oh!” She cried, and it sounded just like when she was having the dream earlier. Spencer had a quick thought about making her dreams come true,  but brushed it to the side as idealized thinking. Then she lifted his head off of her and looked straight into his eyes. “Go on, lick me.” 

Whether she remembered her dream or not, she was clearly living out her fantasy. He lolled his tongue out of his mouth and leisurely licked over her pussy, his tongue flat and wide. She canted her hips up towards him, and he let his tongue form rapid circles around her clit. Her moans fueled his motions, and he moved one of his hands down to pressed two fingers into her. 

She whined as he entered her, and let out a quick “Spencer!” He curled his fingers while sucking on her clit again, and her thighs began to clench around his head. He found the right spot inside her by listening to her moans, and then focused all his attention there while flicking his tongue against her clit. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She cried, tugging on his hair. He kept doing everything exactly the same, pushing her over the edge with a loud shout. He kept up his ministrations until she pushed him off from the oversensitivity. She let out a loud sigh as he pulled off, and her hands went up to clutch at her own hair for a change. Staring up at the ceiling, she let a grin cross her face as a few aftershocks rolled through her. He admired her as she came down from her high, and then moved to the bathroom to wash his hands and get a rag to clean her up. 

When he came back he went to wipe her down, but she took the rag from him. “Sit. I get to take care of you, now.” She wiped herself down and then kneeled in front of him. She pulled down his sweatpants, which stuck a little to his cock which was hard again. Smirking up at him, she began wiping him down while he hissed, the gentle touches not enough for him. Suddenly her hot mouth wrapped around his head, and he groaned out. She made quick work of him, throwing her all into the blowjob from the start, taking him as deep as possible over and over. His hands clenched in the sheets as he came for a second time, this time down her throat. 

She swallowed as he watched in awe, and then wiped down his softening cock and stood up. Silently, she made her way to the bathroom and got rid of the dirty towel. 

When she came back Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiled up at her and reached out a hand, which she took gladly letting him pull her in for a hug, with her standing between his knees. 

“I really like you, you know.” He said, his chin resting between her breasts as he stared up at her. 

“I know. I really like you too.” 

“Would you like to get dinner with me, when the case is over?” 

“As long as we can keep doing what we just did before then, absolutely.” She said with raised eyebrows. He let out a laugh which made her smile, and he pressed a kiss to her chest. 

“Of course.” 

“You can make my other dreams come true.” She smirked. 

“I’d love to.” 

~~~~

When they walked into the precinct the next morning, [Y/N] was wearing a scarf, despite the hot Texas heat. She hadn’t quite caught Spencer in time, and he had in fact left a mark. Of course the whole team noticed.

“Oi, Pretty Boy, was [Y/N] in your room last night?” Derek asked at the coffee station. Luckily Spencer was facing away from him, so Derek didn’t see how his immediate reaction was to blanche at the memories from the night before. He gathered himself quickly.

“Yes, of course, why?” He asked as he turned around, stirring his coffee. Derek’s attention was on [Y/N], who was talking to an officer on the other side of the precinct.

“That scarf is only there to hide something, I think our lovely lady might’ve got some last night.” Derek said with a smirk. “Don’t let it break your heart, you still have a chance!” He turned to Spencer and clapped him on the shoulder, who was blushing intensely at the tease. [Y/N] had, in fact, ‘got some’, and he was the some she got with. Derek noticed he was off. 

“C’mon, I’m just teasing. She probably didn’t get a chance to-” While he was talking, Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye from across the room. She smirked at him and waved, and he smiled and waved back. Derek cut himself off when he saw Spencer’s wave, turning to see just as [Y/N]’s face turned back to the officer she was talking to. “Oh my god. You crazy man, you actually did it!” Derek exclaimed, shaking Spencer. 

Spencer spluttered, shaking his head. “N-No, it’s not like that, I-” 

“I don’t need all the details, I just need to know it happened. Because it did happen, didn’t it?” He asked, trying to look Spencer in the eye, but the latter was aggressively avoiding eye contact. Spencer pursed his lips to try and contain his smile as he nodded. “My man!” Derek exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. 

Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye again over Derek’s shoulder, and the smile she gave him made him smile right back. 

They had dreams to realize tonight.

Final A/N: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! 

taglist: @rusticreid​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ 

send me a message or comment on this fic to be added to my taglist!

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 24)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,700

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat

I hope it's gonna make you notice

“…I’m in the military, sir…”

“…James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone…And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why…”

Bucky lies awake in bed, fluffy pillow behind his head and one leg peeking out from the blankets, as random memories knack away at his brain in pulses. They weren’t new memories, but they were memories that he never looked at the way he was now.

He doesn’t know why now, he doesn’t know what triggered it, but they were clicking together.

After years of replaying the same moments in his head, there was a nagging feeling that was telling him that there was something not adding up.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s seeing things differently, if he’s feeling things differently.

Whatever it was, he knew there was something…off.

There was something off about Daisy’s story about her dad’s story, something was off about the way he was against Bucky fighting in the military, and her death was coinciding so much with his capture.

He doesn’t like the feeling in his stomach as he remembers.

When Bucky asked about her brother and what that whole commotion back at the club was she was blatantly honest with him.

“My father’s not a good guy. He’s been wanting some something from one of these performers that was suppose to be there last night, but turns out they weren’t even on the set list. He had lied about it, we don’t know where he is.”

Bucky raises a brow at this, “You do his dirty work for him?”

“No, I don’t like to get involved in that. It’s a dangerous lifestyle. I have to think about my future family. I was only there yesterday because my brother wanted to get me out of the house for once.”

Bucky isn’t too gleam on the fact that her family are borderline criminals and that she basically supports it, and for a fraction of a second he almost doesn’t buy it, but he decides to mention this later on, not wanting to ruin their moment.

Bucky shifts his leg as he continues to remember that conversation. Why was he not against it? Why did he never question the crimes? Was he that distracted by her?

Bucky smiles at her comment, but then his brows furrowed together in an adorable way that made Daisy giggle and bring her hand to his cheek, “What is it, James?”

What is it, James?

Bucky looks over to see you laying next to him, sat up with your back against the headboard reading some book with a beige cover.

You hadn’t taken notice of his self discomfort yet, emerged in your reading, tucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

Why was he remembering all of this now? Why was he feeling sick?

When they pulled away she slowly dragged her thumb across his plump bottom lip. He watched her like she was the most gorgeous and interesting thing on the planet.

“James?” He responded with a sound on confirmation and she continued, “do you think we are moving too fast?”

He grabbed her hand that was on his face and for a fraction of a moment she thought that that was it, they were over. This was clearly too unrealistic. But instead he brought her hand up over both his lips and he kissed her gingerly.

“Yes.” He whispered behind her hand, making sure he was making direct eye contact with her.

Her face dropped. “Yes?” Her voice was worried, cautious.  

He started trailing kisses down her hand, her wrist, her forearms. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck making her groan.

It wasn’t that Daisy didn’t like being pampered but she wanted to take this very seriously. With a reluctant sigh - because what he was doing to her flesh just felt so good - she delicately removes her arm from Bucky’s grasp. He narrowed his eyes as she moved away towards the head board, suddenly wondering if maybe he said the wrong thing.

Her eyes trickled his features and down his perfect little nose.

“I knew it since the moment I laid my eyes on you. That’s how you know it’s real. This isn’t crazy, it’s ludicrous. But it works for us. I want to be with you.”

After his little speech Daisy looked him dead in the eye, not batting one lash.

“Then come have dinner with my family.”

Was it too fast? He had barely known her and she was asking him to meet her family. Criminals.

But why would she give away such dire information if it were true?

Bucky sat up slowly, as if if he were to move too quickly, the bed would collapse underneath him.

His eyes had a far away look in him, and he was as pale as he felt.

You feel him shift and your eyes flicker up to him.

You frown.

Her blue eyes glisten with gentle tears, probably thinking the same exact thing. None of it still feels real.

Her, she, doesn’t feel real.

They spent nearly every night together just talking about what Bucky would do when he came back home after camp. Things like how they would have to go see the stars on the back of an outskirts farmhouse, how they would have to go to every club in the city and laugh their night away, how he would take her to coney island with him and Steve and show her a “good time” on the ferris wheel, and how they would definitely have to meet her family.

“They’re great, you’ll love them.” She had said as they laid in bed together just hours before, merely cuddling with clothes on.

“Oh, come on doll, even your Dad?”

Daisy hesitated for a moment and her hand that was rubbing his chest stopped suddenly.

Bucky noted this and they met eyes.

Bucky feels his heart palpitate and he opens and closes his right hand, sitting up.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, closing your book.

“Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.”

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

“Bucky.”

Your voice pulls him out of his trance for just a moment.

He looks up to you, your eyes interlacing in a silent conversation of understanding.

He was revealing something to himself and you could tell that whatever that was it was leaving him overcome by feelings.

At the end of the day, he knows that he’s just insanely protective of Steve. Which is why his arm instinctively goes around him when Rogers almost gets hit by a speeding vehicle that abruptly stops to halt in front of them on the curb. With his mind far away, he hadn’t realized they were already standing on the sidewalk in front of one bright sign labeled Cotton Club.

Had Bucky known better, he would’ve had him on his left.

After that introduction, the two boys look over to the object that almost killed them.

It was pure black, the countless lights coming from the surrounding buildings and cars bouncing off its surface. The rain must’ve made it even shinier, the lights made a reflection so bright that it had everyone staring. Men looked in awe and a young paper boy, standing on the corner working over time, wondered if that would someday be his future.

With a look of disgust, Steve was repulsed by the obscurity of the man’s driving having nearly hit him. He wondered why people had no respect and he desperately wanted to punch his face in. Either that or give him a pep talk about general safety.

“What a twit.” He snarls, dusting off his small suspenders and kicking the invisible debris off his lapels.

Bucky’s face held something different. It explained why the woman staring had looked on in pure jealousy. He stared forward completely emotionless. He was neither annoyed at the fact that he almost just got run over and killed and nor in obsession over the Duesenberg J.

It was the beautiful goddess emerging from the passenger seat that caught his full attention.

On her left hand was a pearl and diamond bracelet and she used it to skim over the top of the priceless car door for leverage to push herself gracefully up from the leather seat. Her other hand was wrapped up in a prestige white glove. It held onto the hem of her silver sparkling gown, a long white cigar between her digits. Her gorgeous dress looked heavy, you could tell it was so properly made and expensive because it must’ve weighed as much as her petite self. The reason being that it hugged her body at just the perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully.

Her perfect blonde hair was pulled slick back by a diamond hair clip to the side in huge voluminous waves. The dress showed just enough back, the material dipping down towards the floor, the dip ending just above her bottom. The entire thing was held by two tiny silver straps on her shoulders.

In a sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington seemed to have played perfectly in sync with the exact moment she shut the door behind her. She looked up to read the sign, her perfect profile looking up in awe.

Bucky stands up from the bed, back rigid and face hard with anger.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He swallows thickly, gaze going towards you again.

He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you.

Ironically, beneath his anger and betrayal, he also began to feel embarrassment.

He’s momentarily startled out of his trance when he feels a small hand grab his elbow.  He looks down and his eyes meet a small concerned Steve. Well, to be fairly honestly, he looked more pissed than concerned.

Bucky doesn’t feel the patience to deal with talking anything out, he’s too busy thinking about Daisy. But he feels like he should at least say something so he can get everyone off his back, “What is it?”

Steve looks at him likes he’s crazy and then manically gestures towards the entrance of the club, probably pointing to where Daisy just left through.

“Bucky, what the heck was that? Who was that? You know her?”

“I didn’t know her. No.” Bucky doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud.

He’s shaking his head to himself, mumbling.

“Bucky, who are you talking to?” You’re growing even more concerned by the second now.

The silence was broken by his strong voice.

“You’re real.”

She smiles in a way that makes him smile too. It was contagious and bright. He caresses her skin one more time.

He felt her own hand come over his and she whispers, “I’m real.”

“Not real.”

You are more than concerned at this point.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe it was the fact that my body had finally developed into a women’s body. My breasts were now fully perked and my legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all I knew was they figured I could be put to good use.”

He shook his head and Bucky blinked away heavy tears.“I-“

The pretty woman rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, revealing a long slit that ran up her dress. It was just enough skin for Bucky’s hand to get sweaty.

He waited until the perfect opportunity when the man had walked towards the direction of the stage, making his way into the back behind the curtain.

“It wasn’t real.”

“You do his dirty work for him?”

“It wasn’t real.”

“My father’s not a good guy.”

Bucky remembers them poking him with IV drops and then sticking his head in a blender. His owns screams fill his head. It was so painful.

“Reason unknown, ongoing investigation"

“I wasn’t going to let you keep her. She enticed you. She won you. It was always supposed to be you.”

“…blonde 21 year old was found shot…”

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. He wanted her, “Will you marry me?”

“…Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —…”

“But you jeopardized it, Soldat. It wasn’t real.”

The memories are sucked out of him like a vacuum and his dark eyes meet yours, again, across the bed.

You had never seen his pupils so blown before.

You were terrified.

Your eyes go down to his flesh hand that is twitching against his thigh.

“Bucky.” You say cautiously, one more time. It was almost like you were afraid to get closer to him.

“I—“ his voice was hoarse.

He looks away and clears his throat. He blinks away the heavy daze, allowing it all to sink in until it settles in his stomach in a surprising pool of acceptance.

He sees you again and for some reason he feels okay.

It scares him.

It scared him how you took something that had been bothering him for so long, away that quickly.

In that moment he knows.

“I remembered something.” Your eyebrows came together suddenly. Nearly moments ago he looked heartbroken but now he just looked shocked and angry.

“What did you remember? I thought you had your memories back. In Wakanda.”

“I-I did,” he squeaks out running a hand through his hair, “maybe I’m just remembering differently, or adding pieces together, I don’t know, I can’t tell. It has to be, because it makes sense. It makes so much sense now, and I can’t—and she—”

“Bucky you’re rambling,” he stops and you continue to look at each other. His face drops all traces of anger and it softens, “Talk to me, I’m right here.” You whisper.

Bucky looks down at you and nods. No hesitancy.

“Give me your hands.” You say, reaching for him. He doesn’t hold back from doing so, and once you have his hands in yours, you pull him up onto the bed so he’s kneeling on it next to you.

Bucky takes a few minutes to compose himself before he says it:

“I think Daisy and her family were Hydra.” He says it like he’s afraid of his own words.

As if every word in that phrase was a curse word.

Somehow, it relieves him.

His chest feels light, shoulders worn. He can breathe.

+ + +

“I should’ve known it was too fast. Too perfect,” you’re also stunned as he tells you everything, his hands still in yours, “but—but I don’t think she was always hydra. I think she wanted out when I was captured and they killed her for it.”

You don’t deny it, that hurts. Despite never knowing the girl and secretly holding envy for her, it pains you.

“Oh, Bucky.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing together.

“But it was a lie. She enticed me, she fucking—“ Bucky sucks in a deep breath, “she was trying to lure me in. There was nothing real about it.” He says the word like it’s venom on his lips.

You feel him rub his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You don’t know that -”

He shakes his head again, “She was Hydra!” He doesn’t say it angrily as much as he says it in a way to announce it to himself.

He needed to say it out loud. He needed to let it sink in.

You watch Bucky as he becomes completely numb, and somehow free, in front of you.

For some reason you expected more heartbreak from him for discovering something so horrible about a woman he claimed he loved so much, a woman he wanted to marry, but instead all you got from him was anger and acceptance.

Little did you know, Bucky was in the same boat as you.

Why wasn’t he as heat shattered as he’d expect?

“I-“ he’s speechless as he looks around, trying to find something, but he does’t know what.

You think you’re more shocked than him and you quickly grab his arm, bringing him against you for a tight hug.

He hugs you back immediately, hand running up your shoulder blade and onto the back of your hair.

Minutes pass by. Many minutes.

“It was all a lie,” he whispers still holding onto. you, “All of it. I really was alone. I thought I finally had someone, but—It wasn’t real.”

You don’t know what to say as you run your hand up the back of his head.

It’s not until you pull him in tighter that he realizes it.

It was you.

You were there reason this didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. His heart no longer wanted to be with someone who was long gone.

It wanted to stay here.

Here.

He never thought he would ever feel this way ever again, and he never thought he would trust this hard ever again.

Realizing truth relived him of buried pain, and he wanted you to keep holding him, to keep helping him go through this.

He says your name softly.

“Yes?”

“I want to talk about everything.”

You stiffen for a moment as you let his words sink in. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“All of it. Everything that I did. I need to get it out, I can’t keep doing this, holding it in, keeping it inside —”

The euphoria through your blood is addicting.

“Tell me.”

He loved slow dancing.

He loved the Yankees.

He loved math and Howard Stark.

He went to the Stark Expo every year.

He loved The Hobbit and he loved jazz.

He loved New York City.

He loved Brooklyn the most.

He misses flat hats.

He loved telling jokes.

His mother died when he was young.

His sister was taken away from him.

He cried when he couldn’t see her.

His father died not too long after.

He never enlisted despite his love for the military.

He was drafted.  

He experienced World War II but on the enemy side.

He fought with Hitler’s and Hydra’s men.

He was loved by the KGB.

He loved Prague.

He trained the girls in the red room.

He remembers every young girl.

He was told to kill four kids on a mission once in Bucharest.

He was tormented, beaten raw, and kept in a concrete cell between cryo periods.

He was only occasionally fed, most years spent asleep.

He was treated like an animal. They tied him to the wall once in the cell, with a chain around his neck.

He was brain washed.

He was sexually assaulted by Hydra.

He doesn’t remember if he was raped, which could be his brain’s way of protecting himself from more trauma.

He reminds you that loved Howard Stark.

He killed Howard Stark.

He killed Maria Stark.

He was the one that stole the super soldier serum from the Stark’s and provided it to Hydra.

He was the fist of Hydra.

He killed many other good men. Over two dozen assassinations.

He killed JFK.

He never wanted to do any of it.

He remembers all of it.

They named him a hero on the Wall of Valor before S.H.I.E.L.D fell.

He was taken into Wakanda, freed of his trigger words.

He still loved New York City.

He was pardon him, despite everything.

They named him an Avenger.

He remembers it all.

You’re laying down facing each other and you continue to watch him as he tells you everything.

It’s one of the most surreal experiences of your life and you find yourself in total awe.  

This was the Bucky Barnes you had been longing to see. This was the man you knew was hidden beneath layers of hurt and anger.

You had seen it before he even told you.

The fact that he even trusted you enough to be this transparent with you is what makes you so happy.

His eyes brightened as he played with a string on the blanket between you.

“And Friends,” his voice is small and there’s a little smile on his mouth. Your heart swells as you watch it, “I love Friends.”

You bite your tongue as you smile.

Bucky stared at you, just as amazed at himself as he was at you. He couldn’t believe he told it all to you.

It was as if Daisy’s image had begun to dissolve and he was finally seeing clearly.

He didn’t hate you. He never hated you.

His fingers peak out slowly to take a hold of your pinky.

It was the opposite. He wanted you.

He feels himself breaking when you pull away from his touch. His smile falls.

“I’m proud of you,” you say quietly, sitting up again, “For finally talking about it.” You mean it, “Thank you.”

It takes him a few seconds to eventually look away and he turns onto his back. Bucky drapes an arm over his stomach, letting out a long breath of contentment.

He felt free.

To do what?

He looks over at you again as you pull your book back out.

This. This is what freedom got him. You.

But it you weren’t his. He clears his throat.

“How are things with your boyfriend?”

You don’t like talking about Pietro with Bucky.

“It’s fine,” you answer anyway, “We only had one date. And I got sick, so hopefully the next one will be better.”

Bucky swallows thickly. Why was he feeling like this? He should be happy for you. You wanted this. You deserved this.

“What do you plan to do when it’s time for us both to leave and go back?” He asks.

You don’t miss the way he mentions both of you to leave and your eyes quickly flicker to him.

“I don’t know yet,” you say hoarsely, filled with unexpected relief.

+ + +

Bucky doesn’t remember experiencing this kind of happiness since he was nineteen and him and Steve went to go see a baseball game after scoring a date with two pretty girls on the F train.

He’s happy.

Ashen peaks up at him from behind dark lashes, smiling so hard his eyes peak up at the side, turning them into thin slits. Bucky’s aren’t too far off as he mimics the boy’s laughter.

“Connect four?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta try it. It’s so fun.” The Ashens says happily, pulling out the little game from underneath his bed. Bucky wants to ask him why he has it hidden, but he doesn’t. He just reminds him that they need to stay quiet, “plus, it’s the only game I have anyway. But it’s fun Mr. Bucky.”

“Haha, alright lets try it.” Bucky says.

They sit across from each other on the floor, setting up the little game and dividing their colored chips. Ashen’s goes first, dropping in a yellow one.

Bucky picks up a red one with his flesh hand and drops it right next to the yellow. They continue for a bit until Ashens notices Bucky isn’t connecting his colors.

“No, you have to try to get a straight line and connect it!” He laughs, “you suck at this."

“Oh, no! What did I do?” Bucky exclaims, laughing.

“You’re not very smart for an Avenger.” Ashens remarks.

“Okay,” Bucky points at him playfully, smiling, “That’s mean.”

“I’m sorry but it is true.”

“Cut me some slack.” Bucky says, smiling.

They play for a little longer until Ashens ends up beating him.

Bucky sticks his tongue out at the boy, but smiles. He eventually caught on to the game and let him win. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Mr. Bucky,” Ashen says after he slides the game back under his head. He brings his legs up to his chest and hugs them, "Will you tell me now why you are here to save me?”

Bucky licks his lip and sighs. He looks out Ashens' high rise window and then back to him again. “Not yet.”

“Should I be afraid.”

“No. I won’t let anything happen you. I promise.”

Ashens doesn’t say anything as he lets his Mike Wazowski slippers hit each other.

“Do you have any kids? Like my age?”

The question surprises Bucky, and for a moment a feeling of longing hits him. “No. I don’t.”

“Aww okay.”

Bucky stares at Ashens little sad face and his heart breaks.

“I always wanted to, though,” Bucky whispers, “But that was years ago.”

“When you were in world war one?”

Bucky smiles.

“Two, not one, but yeah,” it’s not a lie, Bucky knows that if his loved would’ve went a different way, he would have definitely had kids. To know he could never go back to such simplicity broke his heart, “Something like that.”

There was something, that even so many months later, still bothered Bucky. It was something so small, and it probably didn’t really affect you as much as it affected him, but it was something you said to him.

It was one of your many fights and the way you had spatted at him about buying you plan B after you had sex.

He didn’t want to burden you. What you two had done had been irresponsible. An atmosphere like this was no place and time for an unwanted baby.

You weren’t ready for one, let alone his.

At the time, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t want the baby, if you were to have gotten pregnant, he would have loved that child with everything. He was thinking about you.

He hated to think that he gave you that pill as a gesture to say that he wanted nothing to do with you.

If so, you were wrong.

He wanted you to be happy, just smart.

He cared about you.

And now, possibly more.

As he continues to watch Ashens giggling over his slippers, that feeling of longing washes over Bucky again.

He knows he needs to tell you.

+ + +

You still weren’t feeling well. Maybe it was your nerves. The end of the mission was getting closer by each day and you never expected you’d have to leave with a little kid. You still hadn’t met Ashens, but Bucky says he’s a delight.

Ashens has changed him. You took notice immediately and it made you happy. This whole experience would be good for him.

After Bucky had poured out his heart to you, you knew you needed to get away again. That was the dance now. You get pulled, you take a step back. You couldn’t let yourself go there anymore, no matter how hard it was.

Pietro would be the driving force to help you.

You just wish Bucky would stop doing things that he probably realized he wasn’t even doing. The way he touches your face and your hand, or some times the way he looks at you, was not appropriate for two fuck buddies who stopped…fucking.

You were still convinced that he wanted you two to go your separate ways at the end of this mission. Him indirectly saying he was going to walk out with you made you happy, it could’ve been Ashens that helped him have a change of heart, whatever it was, this thing between you had to dissolve anyway.

You couldn’t keep doing that to himself, even when he would blur your lines.

You really wished he would stop doing that.

That night you after the ball, you were almost sure that he was developing feelings for you - finally - it’s why you tried to get him to finally tell you why the kiss bothered him.

Bucky never told you the truth, and you were too tired to keep digging.

You were glad that was the last time.

It was over. All of it was over.

Your stomach churns again and you decide to make yourself some tea and head to bed.

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[buckybarnesdiaries]

otchet o missii

© @wintersthighs

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

part one ⸺ part two ⸺ bonus

request made by anon: Hi Maria you beautiful person you please be my friend 🥺 I kinda have a request but if it doesn't speak to you then you don't have to write it, could you write something where reader is an enhanced/ mutant (kinda like Wanda or Jean Grey so like crazy powerful and dangerous) and Bucky just will not let the government get near her because he knows they'll probably experiment on her to make her a weapon cause they're sus like that? It can be romantic or platonic no preference, if ya want, please and thanks sorry this was so long

word count: 1.165 words.

warnings/tags: none. dad!bucky being overprotective with his baby soldier.

author notes: re-posted because tumblr deleted it for no reason. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Soldat, stoy”.

(Soldier, stop).

Your eyes widened. Your heart raced. The time froze. That command clicked something in your brain, producing the spheres of flames concentrated on your palms to dwindle till disappearing. You had just one second to look around you, before turning at the firm tone of voice behind your back. You found yourself in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by different security forces, aiming at you with large-caliber weapons. Above your head, two helicopters were setting up a perimeter. The chaos spread around the long avenue. You didn't have an idea of how you ended up there, but you were scared like never before.

Turning slowly, your eyes landed on a pair of pale blue orbs. You didn’t notice the other people as a backup. A feeling of safety invaded you when he tilted his head confused, narrowing his eyes, trying to understand how it was possible that you were there. But before you could take a step closer to him, a twinge followed by an electric cramp shook your body. The last thing you heard before blacking out was an I got you, and a cold arm wrapping your abdomen.

BUCKY'S POV

Avengers Compound

06:03 pm, New York

“How do you know it’s not a trap set by Hydra?” Steve asked, reclining himself on his seat at the meeting table next to the rest of the Avengers.

“Because I trust her”. Bucky didn’t doubt replying, although he couldn’t understand why, hearing Stark clicking his tongue as he rolled his eyes.

“James, you don’t know her”. Natasha sighed, referring to the fact that being assassins together years ago meant nothing.

“I trained her. She owes me loyalty”.

“What’s that? Some kind of Stockholm Syndrome patented by Hydra?” Clint scoffed incredulously.

“Tell us what you know about her, Bucky. What you remember”. The captain asked his long-life friend, leaning on the table with both forearms rested against the edge of it.

The soldier gulped, deeply breathing, nodding his chin with his eyes lost somewhere on the dark oak. He explained how Vasily Karpov knew about you. An orphan with no family, no history, and a power of telepathy that allowed you to control the four elements as you pleased. Water, fire, earth, and air. From nowhere, your body could produce flames and throw them anywhere. Exactly the same you could do with water and air. Earth was different. Only by using your hands you could wild it as you want; creating earthquakes or holes, move it. The heroes around Bucky were stupefied. You were a potential danger.

Then, he told them about your skills. Karpov made him stay awake after killing Tony’s parents to train her. You were just a kid. And soon, you were a soldier with an angelic face who could kill anyone just by blinking your eyes. To tell the truth, the Winter Soldier was everything you had in this life. You two worked together, hand-to-hand, for more than ten years until he disappeared. With him out of the game, Hydra continued experimenting with you to replace him. But they reached a point where you couldn't bear the pain, losing control completely.

“Let me talk with her, please”. Bucky begged, touring his eyes around the people there.

“It’s too dangerous”. Vision affirmed, taking a position close to Tony.

“She. Owes. Me. Loyalty”. He repeated almost hissing, pointing out every word with his silver forefinger poking the table.

“You have five minutes before the Government brings her to the Raft”. Rhodes sentenced, crossing his arms on his chest. “Five minutes”.

Escorted by Steve and Wanda, who was the only one there that could control you, Bucky went down to the third sublevel. When the soporific made its effect and knocked you out in the middle of Manhattan, the Avengers managed to take you to their compound.

You were still stoned, but conscious enough to know what was happening around you. Everything spun inside the bunker. Your head hurt like hell and you felt a knot within the pit of your stomach that made you want to puke your guts. As the heavy door proffered a loud noise being opened you retreated to the farthest corner, placing your knees to your chest and wrapping your legs with both arms. Again, you were shaking. Terrified. About to beg for your life.

“Soldat, otchet o missii”.

(Soldier, mission report).

Your breathing became erratic as if the air wasn't enough to fill your lungs. You were at the edge of your crying, raising your hidden face from the gap of your knees. The Winter Soldier was standing some feet away from you. No expression on his face, as always, but with the small difference of a slight inkling of concern. He also looked skinnier, shorter hair, a grown beard. He looked healthier, free.

“Net zadaniya”. You whispered with a broken tone.

(No assignment).

“Soldat, otchet o missii”. He repeated taking a step ahead, hardening his voice.

(Soldier, mission report).

The command made you gulp a sob. Wasn’t he believing you? How could you lie to him?

“Net zadaniya”. You replied with no hesitation, standing on your bare feet and sticking your back to the wall. “Missiya ne naznachena”.

(No assignment. No mission assigned).

You noticed he wanted to turn to his partners, but he didn't. The soldier kept eye contact, coming a little more closer, invading your personal space without caring. He tilted his head forward, trying to find the answers to his questions in your orbs. But they both were emptied with the sole exception of the horror invading your chest and reflected on them. You didn't want to come back. You wanted to be released from Hydra's chain. You weren't an assassin, nor a monster.

“I wa… I was looking for… you”. Babbling, you confessed, being the explanation for why your mind took you to that place in concrete.

“Why?”

“Because you are the only person I have”.

His eyelids narrowed for a second, scanning your intentions, feeling frustrated by not finding anything hidden beneath your words. “Otchet o missii, soldat”.

(Mission report, soldier).

“Net zadaniya, Sergeant Barnes”.

(No assignment).

It was the first time you pronounced part of his real name since you met him many years ago and you could listen to his heartbeat increasing. Before you blinked, his metallic hand grabbed your throat and pinned you against the wall, watching the fury and the rage taking control over his grimace. Glancing above his shoulder, a redhead woman stopped the blonde man known as Captain America. Your gaze focused again on the soldier, loosening slowly the grip on your skin.

“Why don't you remember me?”

The last thing you knew about him was that the man behind him brought back the memories of his past life. His real life. But he was still looking at you with hate and revulsion. Of course, the Winter Soldier was conscious of who you were. What he had forgotten was how he felt about you. He didn't reply to your question, walking backward to the exit, leaving you there. Alone. Again.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

author notes: what do you think about, after the two parts explaining the story, continuing it to explore the evolution of their relationship? do you like the idea? lemme know in a comment or send me an ask!

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[peonyneko]

Better Connection - Shouto x Reader

Prompt: Reader trying to mooch off of Shouto's wifi and jokingly putting their own name in as the password, then being shocked that it actually works and they're now connected to Shouto's wifi…

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1,543?

(Fluff) [Slight crack?] (NOT BETA READ)

Prompts from: https://atsuzaki-playground.neocities.org/

------

I groan at the sudden loading screen of my laptop. I thought I paid the bill? I shake my leg in nervousness. This assignment is due tomorrow, but I knew I’d be too busy to complete it then. Should I wait until I get free WiFi at a cafe? No… I want to get this submitted now.

I groan out of frustration and slight confusion. I then attempted to submit the assignment from my phone. To my rotten luck, my phone also did not have WiFi. Not only that, the file was not compatible. Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s okay. You have one more day.

Closing my eyes, I lie back back onto my bed. I’ll just wait 5 minutes. In the meantime, I unintentionally eavesdropped onto the neighboring room upon hearing running down the hallway and into the room next door. Shouto and I moved in around the same time. He arrived at this apartment half a year before I did. At first, our conversations were dry and awkward. However, as time went on, they became smooth and comfortable. Our silent stares became frequent waves when seeing each other around the area.

There was a little bit of loud shuffling of bags and footsteps. My eyes widen at the sudden thump that rumbles my floor.

“Goodness,” I mumble. I wonder what that was?

My curiosity got the best of me so this time I got out of my room and into my living room. I slowly open the door and peek out. Ah!

“I accidentally bumped into him! Didn’t look where I was going,” Eijirou seems to be defending someone inside of the room. Hm…

“My apologies, Shouto! I’ll pay you back! I feel really bad,” I heard a strong voice. My eyebrow furrows at the familiar voice. What was his name again? Tensei? Wait. No! That’s his brother… Ten…Ten?

“You’re alright, Tenya. Thanks for the help with the new table.” Shouto responds. Right! Tenya.

“No! You must let me!” Tenya seemed firm about his decision.

“I’ll pitch in too. Partially my fault,” Eijirou raises his fist in strange determinations.

“Denied. No,” Shouto’s bluntness almost makes me laugh.

“The wooden sculpture was already pretty roughed up. Even a child’s punch would’ve toppled it over,” he adds.

I go back inside, once again, minding my own business. It’s good that no one was hurt. I rush back to my room and reload my page.

No connection…

I roll my eyes at the device. It’s been 5 minutes already. I huff in annoyance. Normally, I would be okay with going to a nearby cafe. However, today was not a day I wanted to step outside. My back ached from yesterday’s busy schedule. Tomorrow was another busy day and I needed to conserve as much energy as I could. I flop back onto my bed, rolling around. Suddenly, a thought swipes into my brain.

Shouto… has WiFi. More importantly, Shouto has the fastest WiFi in the apartment complex, especially because he is rich.

I bite my inner cheek, debating myself. Should I ask? Before I can get up, I think to myself again. What if he questions me? How do I respond if he says no?

Please, sire. Allow this peasant to use your golden WiFi.

I press my hand on my temple. I groan before I swipe my phone off of my pillow.

“Let's use the high IQ skills,” I joke to myself as I open my phone.

He wouldn’t mind, right? That is, if I can access it. He won’t. How will he know?

I click on the name ‘Shouto.T’ and think to myself.

Shouto111? Incorrect.

MidoyiraIzuku? Izukuno1? Both incorrect. I chuckle to myself. Good ones. He was great friends with Izuku and would mention that Izuku got him to accept himself and his life.

Hm… I shake my head. Foolish. It can’t be my name.

After giving it a few more playful and hilarious tries, I realized that I was giggling to myself… about Shouto’s WiFi password. I cleared my throat and straightened my back.

Come on. All you have to do is ask, I told myself. Yet again, I look back down on my phone. I smile to myself. Whatever. For giggles.

I insert my firstname into the empty space and hit connect. I laughed a bit too hard, until I realized the once empty space held a checkmark.

Connected.

My laughter comes to a stop and I choke up. I’m connected. Wait! I’m connected?!

My body was frozen in place. What? How- Wait. Huh?!

I quickly snap out of it and fling my phone onto my pillow, which makes a louder than expected thump. Then, I grab my laptop. I insert the same password into his WiFi. Once again… Connected.

I was stunned. Too stunned to even be excited that I can submit my assignment. What do I do with this information? Do I ask him about it? No. He’ll ask how I know. Then, he’ll ask why I put my name. Then- Ugh!

Shaking my thoughts off, I solve the problem that had been gnawing at me for the past 30 minutes. I successfully submit my assignment and close my laptop. Suddenly, I hear my doorbell ring.

I quietly make my way and open the door. There stood the boy that managed to alway make my heart flutter.

“Hi, Shouto! Is everything alright?”

“Hi. Yeah, I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I heard a loud noise,” I tilt my head in confusion. Then, I remembered the force I threw my phone at.

“Oh! Sorry. I uh… Got shocked and threw my phone,” I chuckled. He shakes his head in understanding.

Suddenly, he grabs his phone, “By the way… Do you mind me asking something?” He shows me the screen of his phone. No. Don’t tell me this rich boy… I shake my head ‘no’ and look at the screen. Don’t tell me he knows who is connected to his router…

“How did you know my WiFi password? Am I that obvious about it?” His index finger points to my phone and laptop, which clearly are titled with my name. I look at him with a warm face and wide eyes.

“Well… No, but… Well… I didn’t expect it to work. Okay, so, I needed to submit an assignment and my WiFi wasn’t working. I swear I pay my bills, by the way. I was going to ask you but-” my stop myself from giving out more information.

He lightly laughs and looks at me.

“This wasn't how I expected you to find out,” he says. To confirm my thoughts, I press into his vagueness.

“Find out what?” I asked.

“Oh. That I like you. That’s why I put you as my WiFi password,” he said it loud and clear from the doorstep.

Both of us stood in silence for a few seconds before he clears his throat.

“I understand if this is awkward and weird. I can go if you’re feeling uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“No!” I blurt.

“A little confusing, but I was shocked. That’s all,” I told him.

“If I asked you out today, would you agree?” He looks at me with calm eyes that almost cover up his anticipation.

“Well…” I felt nervous. I definitely wasn’t opposed to it.

“Would you like to come inside?” I asked, which brings up a shine in his eyes.

“Yes! If that’s alright with you,” I nod and let him come inside.

-

“Poor WiFi service? Must be rough,” he unintentionally lays out the drastic difference in WiFi performance.

“To be fair, you’re the one with the fastest WiFi in the building. I thought it wouldn’t slow down with one extra- two extra devices,” I replied

“You have a point. How did you even know your name was the password?”

“Well… I did try your name, Izuku’s name, your full birthday, and-”

“Izuku’s name?!” he looked so worriedly confused, which made it hard to continue since I laughed too hard at his expression.

“Yes…” I composed myself and continued, “I played around and tried my name. It somehow connects. You know the rest,” he nods.

“So that’s why you threw your phone with such force. That’s… impressive. I heard it from my living room,” Shouto says.

He then looks at me with the same eyes from earlier.

“Will you go out on a date with me?” His smooth voice matches the calmness emitting from his body language. If I were to say no, he would accept it without taking it as an insult.

I smile, “Yes, Shouto.”

He sighs in relief, “I thought the password would’ve scared you away.”

I shake my head, “If anything, I’m glad we were able to confess.”

He reaches out for my hand, but stops and looks up at me. I nodded my head indicating my permission. He then intertwined our hands. Warmth makes its way around my face.

“I like this… We should hold hands a lot,” my heart flutters at his comment. His gentle smile and bright eyes toward our hands warm me up even more.

“We should.” I confirm.

At this moment, I was glad my poor internet connection led to the connection of our feelings.

----

Thank you for reading!

[twistedmusings]

Congratulations Rin-san! Your writings are amazing you deserve them

As for the prompt drabbles, may I have ["You came back." "I promised, didn't I?"] for Floyd/gn!MC ? Thank you in advance 💕

A/N: You know what I love? Fluff scenarios that start with angst. I love it. It’s like eating ice cream and getting brain freeze only for the next bite to literally cure your depression. I hope this way okay q wq 

Warnings: None! 

Floyd Leech 

Floyd wondered just what Shrimpy was doing right now. 

They usually popped around the Monstro Lounge around this hour. With arms full of books and a tired smile that spoke of staying over until closing time to finish an assignment. 

An assignment that would end up forgotten as Floyd ignore all his responsibilities to sit down and talk with them. 

Shrimpy was one of the few reasons he sometimes went to classes. Nevermind trying to tease Goldfish or finding another forgotten anemone that needed to be squeezed, if Floyd’s eyes landed on his Shrimpy’s figure he would drop whatever he was doing and trot over to wrap them up in his arms. 

When was the last time he had even given a hug? 

Right. In the Mirror Chamber. 

After Shrimpy told him that they would come back. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe them but Floyd was not stupid. He wasn’t one to raise his expectations or believe that the impossible could happen. Besides he had tried. He had even gone and made a contract with Azul to try and get Shrimpy back to Twisted Wonderland! But Azul would only shake his head and say that Floyd knew better than anybody that he wasn’t a miracle worker. 

 So that is where he is at, with his head on the Monstro Lounge bar while all these dumb emotions made him feel like he had just gotten beached.

“Floyd.” 

A pen is placed on the top of his head, Floyd grunting as he hears his brother’s voice. 

“Did you finish your report?” 

He just grunted in reply to his brother’s question, which earned him a prolonged sigh. 

“It’s due tomorrow. If you don’t turn it in Mr.Crewel will--” 

Hands slam down on the low lit bar, Floyd raising his head and letting out a frustrated scream. 

“AH! I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE ABOUT SOME STUPID PAPER OR WHAT DOGFISH-SENSEI WILL SAY! I JUST WANT SHRIMPY BACK.” 

Jade blinks at the sudden outburst of emotion, shaking his head as Floyd scratches at his. 

“Floyd. They’ve been gone for six months.” 

The merman rolls his eyes, what a nice doting brother he had.

“Shut up Jade.” 

“What I’m trying to say is that you are going to have to pick yourself back up. You are about to enter your third year--” 

Jade’s teeth click shut as Floyd let’s out another scream. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ANYMORE! EVERYTHING HAS BECOME SO BORING NOW THAT SHRIMPY IS GONE. I’M DONE! TELL AZUL THAT I’M QUITTING.” 

“Well isn’t that unfortunate.” Azul’s voice rang out through the Lounge, “Guess I get to keep the gift I got for you to myself, right Floyd?” 

Floyd grits his teeth as he turns around to cuss out his former ‘boss’, doing his best to channel all of his sadness and loneliness into rage. If he did that then surely he wouldn’t cry...

Yet all of that tension and anger melted as he looked into your eyes. 

Azul smiled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “Well [Y/N]-san? Does that mean you are my present now?” 

You were about to retort with a witty remark, having thought of one ever since Azul had sent you off to your own world with a rather sarcastic comment. This was payback time! 

But your vision was immediately blocked, arms pressing you against a broad and warm chest as Floyd immediately hugged you and dragged you as far away from Azul as he possibly could. It was you, after all. Floyd dragged you all the way back to his seat while his arms kept you firm against him. 

There wasn’t any way that this wasn’t you. The way you laughed as you pressed your palms against his chest in an effort to pull him away. You would always do that when he distracted you and the pressure felt so familiar that it almost brought Floyd to tears. 

It was you. It was you! 

“Floyd.” 

Your voice. Floyd didn’t want to admit it but he was starting to forget it. If he had forgotten the way you called out to him, then he really wouldn’t have known what to do. 

He pulls you away from him slowly, his arms sliding down to your waist so that he can still keep you pressed to him. You looked up at him with a soft smile, reaching out to cup his face in his hands as he pushed into your touch. 

“...you came back...” 

How pathetic. His voice was cracking. You, however, barely paid attention as you brought him down to kiss his eyelid, helping one tear finally trail down Floyd’s cheek. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” 

That’s right. You promised. How could Floyd think that you wouldn’t go through with your promises? You were the most interesting thing he had ever met, after all! 

Only you could surprise him like this. 

[parragone]

wip weekend

featuring; Kapkan and his nieces, Alyona and Ludmila

I'm attached to this little family and I might draw them later

note; Kapkan briefly alludes to his experience in the Beslan siege toward the end

She seemed to eye one of the questions on her screen with apprehension before she scrolled up rapidly. “So, this assignment is to talk to a family member who isn’t your parents about their lives,” she said, “And you’re obviously my best uncle with the best stories, so is it okay if I ask you some questions? You don’t have to answer if they get too personal, I can just put ‘no appropriate answer’ in the short section.”

“What sort of class is this?” He asked as he leaned against the back of the couch. 

“Social studies,” Alyona answered with a cheery smile. “Part of the class is to look at our own family history to help us understand ourselves. Class is super boring, but the activities mean I can nag the adults in my family, so…”

“Oh, then you’ve been driving my brother nuts,” he laughed. “Alright, let’s start your questionnaire.”

“Okay, first - what’s your full name and job?” Alyona clicked into something on her screen. “Simple answers work, they don’t expect you to out yourself as James Bond or anything.”

“Ah, the basics. Basuda Maxim Nikitovich, soldier,” he said after a moment of consideration. “Ground Forces, if you must be specific.”

After a moment of typing, she nodded. “Okay, so, what’s your earliest memory?”

He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch as he furrowed his brows. When it came to early memories, he had many, but he struggled to name one as his earliest. “I think, if I am honest, it would be the day they brought Pyotr home and told me that this potato in a blanket was my baby brother. I refused to believe that a baby looked like that until, with all the fury of a newborn who did not know his own volume, Pyotr unleashed this god-awful wail that lasted for nearly an hour.”

“He screamed for an hour?”

“Made your grandfather lose his mind,” Maxim laughed. “And we became best friends from that moment onward. I think I was three, then.”

“Wow, okay,” she said as she typed the story out. “My uncles bonded over being mean to my grandfather as children.”

“It is the sacred duty of every child to ruin their parent’s sleep schedule and break their parent’s things,” Maxim said with a solemn nod. “What’s the next one?”

“The next question is sort of weird,” she responded. “When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Oh, this is fun. When I was young, I told your grandparents to their faces that I wanted to, and I quote, ‘go live in the woods and never come back’ so I could live as a mountain man. I threatened it in the same way other children threatened to run away to the circus,” he said with a small shrug. “I actually did it for nearly a week when I was fifteen, but a snow storm made me come home early. I suppose it influenced my choice of being a soldier, but really, there was no choice back then. Soldier or factory work, they would tell you. And they were right.”

“Wow,” she said quietly, eyes wide. “Is that why dad works in the factory?”

“Yes. Your father never had the stomach for a military life.” He had a bitter smile as he shook his head. "It's much easier to choose something new now. What are you going to be, again? It was either pancake scientist or unicorn doctor-"

"I want to be a brain surgeon!" She folded her arms and puffed up proudly. Maxim winced inside as he recognized his brother in her pride, but said nothing to deter her. Alyona had chances none of his generation did.

“Alright, alright. Next question, Alenka.”

Alyona looked down and, with some apprehension, bit her cheek. She scrolled down, far enough that he knew she had skipped a question, and nodded as if she had successfully avoided something. “If you had three wishes, what would they be?”

“Oh, a hard one. Hm.” Maxim furrowed his brows as he tilted his head back. “I think… Hm. I don’t think I would use them, really.”

“No wishes?!” 

“None at all. The world is the way it is because that is how it must be,” Maxim confirmed with a small shrug. “If I had to use a wish, I think I would wish to see a dodo bird.”

Alyona scrunched up her face, but typed on her laptop anyway with a self-confident nod. “Weirdo uncle.”

“Definitely. Say, what’s that question you skipped?”

“I didn’t skip a question!” She turned red and straightened up in the way she always did when she was lying. “I swear!”

“Mhm. So if I were to steal your laptop away and look at your assignment…?”

His niece started to protest before she huffed sadly and looked at her screen. “I just don’t want to make you sad.”

“Go on, Alenka. I’m a big boy, I can answer a question.”

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Okay. The question says, ‘When did you decide your child’s name’, but you don’t have any.”

“You’re right,” he said with a nod. 

She stared at her screen for a while as they sat in silence, and Maxim stared at the play pen as he pondered how to proceed. There were a lot of things he tried to shelter Alyona and her sister from, with some easier to hide than others. Alyona had been four when the siege happened, and she had no idea how close she had come to growing up without him. 

“Uncle Maks, why don’t you have children?” She half-closed her laptop as she asked, bright eyes curious and tinged with worry. “Do you not want any?”

“Oh, Alenka, I would love to have children. Tima and I have even discussed it.” Maxim took a deep breath and chose his next words carefully; she wasn’t old enough to understand the worst of the world, and he wanted to keep it from her as long as he could. “When you were very young, I had to do something very, very hard. Part of that was seeing many dead children around your age. I would love to be a father - it is something I have wanted for a very long time - but I haven’t healed from that. So instead, I keep you, your sister, your cousins, and your friends safe from anything I can.”

“So you might have children someday?”

“One day, I hope to.” He nodded quietly as he met her eyes and gave her a small smile. “They would be adopted, but it is something I want. For now, you and Ludmila are the closest thing to daughters I can have.”

“Then I have to stay super, super safe.” She nodded, eyes serious. “I’ll make sure I’m never, ever in danger.”

“No, no. Not at all,” Maxim sighed softly as he reached over to brush her hair from her face and pat her cheek. “No, Alenka, all you must do for me is be happy. If you can find one good thing to write to me about, it makes my work all the easier.”

[secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer]

Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it! 

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me. 

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded. 

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

 Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

~

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

~

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

~

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

 I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life." 

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

[nameless-shrimp]

THE TASTE OF TEARS || OSAMU DAZAI

PAIRING: Osamu Dazai x GN!Reader

TYPE: one-shot

WARNINGS: angst, swearing, murder

SYNOPSIS: After being sent on a mission with your partner, also known as your lover, you didn't expect that day would've been your last.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: feeding some sweet good ol' angst to all of you, hehehe. maybe i should be stopped. tbh this is kinda bad because i was so tired when i wrote this but here ya go!

The thought of you vanishing from him hurts his heart more than you actually think. This man is in love with you, and would go through so much with you if it meant to be with you for the rest of his life; he had done so much wrong, but he was willing to become someone better—greater, even, just for you.

Dazai trusted your capability despite your lack of gifted abilities but he didn’t like the tone of voice you gave off when you were assigned a task from the boss of the Armed Detective Agency; a group of terrorists was settling in Yokohama, and their explosions have been talked about, not to mention the sudden kidnappings.

“Are you sure you want to take care of this?” He questioned, eyes fixated on you as you stared out of the window; out of all days to rain, it had to rain today.

“We were assigned to take care of it,” you forced a smile. “I don’t have a good feeling about it though.”

Dazai looked at you; hazel eyes twinkling, and he forced a smile right back at you. His face showed no emotion, like discarded, wrinkled pages from an old book falling along with the leaves of autumn on a dull, fall day. Usually, his emotions were an unread letter, but you knew your lover all too well—that face of worry and discomfort, and you only placed a small kiss to his forehead while he kept his eyes closed, in hopes that if there was a guardian angel beneath the clouds, that it would protect you at all costs—only you, not him.

When Ranpo had to deal with one case file after another to ensure the safety of the kidnapped civilians with Kunikida, you were assigned with Dazai to take care of the whereabouts of the terrorist group. However, Dazai didn’t like the gut feeling in his stomach, and it settled within him so deep. It became unbearable, even, as if his insides were being ripped apart—it was unlike him to lose so much confidence in a mission.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured him, a smile glowing in your eyes and he had to force one back to you. “I love you. We’ll be okay.”

And those words spiraled through his head, nonstop, especially at the sight of the empty space next to him after he realized that you had vanished from him within a matter of seconds. He swore he had just blinked and the two of you stepped inside an abandoned, run-down building, and his heart began to quicken his pace.

He realized that the terrorist group had its own abilities, and luckily, with his own act of manipulation, he was able to let a few of the members fall to their knees in defeat as he used his ability to nullify the enemies’ own.

However, he hadn’t realized that you were taken by some of the members, and within a flash, Dazai couldn’t bear to see a rope tied around your mouth and he could only stand there in awe—suddenly, the manipulative, suicidal man was at a loss for his own words; the mission didn’t matter anymore, none of it did, and he could only stand there in front of you—unsure if he should plead for the sake of you being let go or if he should strategize a plan to get you free.

It didn’t matter; none of it did, anyway. Because when you felt a piercing pain through your stomach as the taste of iron pooled your mouth, you felt your body quiver as it hit the cold ground.

Dazai didn’t know how to act right then and there. He stood there, frozen, mumbling your name before his brain clicked at what had happened and he ran to you; eyes tearing up as he watched the palms of his hands get tattooed with the red liquid dripping from your stomach and—no, no, he couldn’t go through this again, but it was happening.

“Osa… Osa—”

“My love, don’t talk,” he said quickly, placing a palm on the open wound and he blinked quickly, in hopes of getting the image of red out of his head but it remains to be stained in the current moment. “Save your breath. I’m getting you out of here; we’re going to Yos—”

“Osamu, st—stop,” you pleaded, sweat trickling down your forehead. “It hurts—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he gritted his teeth, keeping one palm on the wound as he placed another hand behind your neck as he cradled you in his arms; and when did that deep feeling in his heart become so lost in the color of dark red and dirty concrete? He wasn’t sure—but then he knew, because you were in his arms, critically injured, heaving out deep breaths as tears decorated your reddened cheeks.

“I’m scared,” you cried out in pain as he gritted his teeth, not minding the shuffling of the enemies behind him scattering away from the situation. None even they mattered, and the only thing that mattered was you—lost in that book of ripped pages stained in red. “I-I don’t think I can—”

“Don’t say that, please,” Dazai cried. You looked at him—you knew your lover all too well, and that was that he never cried. No matter what saddening thoughts swam through his mindset; he never shed a tear in front of you—not until now, and then, he let out a choked sob as he kept his forehead on yours. “Please hold on. I will call Yosano and I’m going to take you back right away.”

“Osamu, it hu—hurts,” you sobbed, choking on your breaths as you felt blood dripping from your lips.

“Baby, I know; you’re gonna be fine,” he kept you tucked into his chest further, not minding that his trench coat was getting soaked with that liquid he despised so much at this point, and he fiddled in his pockets for his phone. “Breathe baby, breathe; you’ll make it.”

“Osamu,” your voice croaked.

He gulped at your sudden change of vocal tone. “Stay with me, my belladonna, okay? I promise I’m getting you out of he—”

“Osamu, promise me…”

“No, stop talking, you’re not—”

“That you’ll forever be the good man that you—”

“Love, stop talking like that!” He shouted out loud, dialing the number to Yosano on his phone as quickly as he could while his tears were dripping down his cheeks. “You’re not gonna die, you’re not—you’re not—you won’t—you can’t—I won’t fucking let—”

You closed your eyes and nuzzled your face further into his chest and you weakly raised your hand to place it on his, allowing him to drop the phone in the process. Part of him was already accepting defeat; he didn’t like it one bit—yet a good part of him was clinging onto the fine line of hope that you were still healthy and smiling as you always were; that damn beautiful smile that he adored to the fullest and now his heart was forever lost in a pile of ripped pages.

“Osamu, you’re wearing the shirt I gave you…” you murmured, feeling yourself become more tired.

His hands shook as he threw his arms around you. Osamu Dazai broke down; a silent cry, no audible noise was heard from his mouth—his breaths were choking his throat and all he could produce were quiet tears. “Don’t go, please…” he pleaded, while he shook his head.

“Never stop being a good man, Osamu,” you whispered, finally laying your head back. “I love you.”

“Y/N,” Dazai cried out before he noticed your eyes closing and the breaths that were fanning his skin were no longer felt. “Baby?” He bit his quivering lip, already feeling his eyes sting more as he shook his head, clutching your lifeless body closer to his chest. “Baby, wake up. Y/N, wake up,” he shook your body and he kept his teeth gritted, his voice beaten down by his own words and not your faint breathing.

His head began to shake uncontrollably. “Belladonna, wake up,” he spoke closer to you and he shook your body again. “You can’t… you can’t—please, don’t go.”

Osamu Dazai was someone that never broke down, and in fact, he was a locked-up chest with bottled-up emotions, and not one person was able to access the key, except for you. But with your body lying in his arms and the hurling scream that left his lips, he was finally able to taste the salt of his tears for the first time.

[nightshade-minho]

-Free Rent- (7)

Danceracha x fem!reader

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It has nothing to do with the real Stray Kids or JYPE. If you don’t like it/are uncomfortable, kindly scroll past.

WC: 2.6k

(What even is this pic lmao)

Warnings: foursome, use of sex toys, ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, use of pet names, punishment, tying up, groping, cum play, multiple creampies, humiliation, degradation, one spank, objectification, double penetration, anal.

It was so early. You’d just woken up, the pale sunlight falling on you, making you blink. You were painfully aware of your drenched panties, sticking to your folds. Shifting, you sighed. The boys had been quite busy for a few days now, with assignments and practice. You hadn’t had sex for three days, which was a surprisingly long time, considering they all had incredible libidos.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. This is a bad idea, you thought, as your hand slowly drifted to your clothed pussy. You rubbed yourself slowly, the prospect of getting caught turning you on more. 

Then again, none of the boys would be awake at this hour, right? 

Wrong.

Hyunjin yawned, making his way to your room as he hummed. He’d noticed at dinner last night that you’d looked off, like you were frustrated. He wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alright. He felt like he hadn’t been doing much of that lately.

He reached your room, his hand coming up to knock on the door. He froze when his ears finally picked up the soft whimpers coming from inside your room.

Slowly, a wicked smile formed on his face. Was that why she’d looked so frustrated? 

He decided to wait a little longer, ignoring the tent forming in his boxers. He carefully listened, waiting until your moans grew louder and shakier- a sign that you were close.

He threw open the door at that very moment, grinning as he leaned against the door frame. He chuckled as your eyes widened, scrambling to cover yourself with the blankets, your orgasm ruined as you tried to calm your beating heart.

“H-hyunjin...”

“Hi, princess. Good morning, I presume?”

“I...I-”

He came closer, calmly lifting the blankets off you and smirking.

“Ah~ I get it now.”

You pouted up at him, pulling your fingers away and sitting up a little as you tried to give him your most innocent expression.

“Jinnie, I was just-”

He laughed, taking your hand and holding it. “Don’t try and make excuses baby. You know you’re not allowed to touch yourself...”

You whined. “But I haven’t been getting any attention for the past few weeks! I felt needy...”

“Oh yeah? Well...you’ve got to learn to be patient, sweetheart. Fortunately for you, I know just how to teach you a lesson.”

You quivered as his hand started travelling up your arm, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck to him.

“Hmm, a clean canvas...perfect.”

He moved closer on the bed, pressing his lips to your neck. The feeling of his hot tongue against your skin was making you dizzy. You clutched his arm, moaning softly.

“Hyunjin, please...”

“Please, what?” He spoke against your neck, still nipping at you.

“I...” you trailed off, scared to say anything that might make him madder. 

He pulled away, humming and shaking his head. “It’s like you’re forgetting everything we taught you.”

You shook your head, eyes widening. “N-no, Hyunjin! I haven’t! I’m still your good girl, I promise!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. I don’t think so.” He stood up, going to the box in the corner of the room and rummaging through it. He took out some ties as well as a vibrator, coming over to you and tying your hands to the headboard.

He spread your legs, flicking the vibrator on and pressing it to your clit. You mewled at the feeling, trying to shift so he would apply more pressure. He kept teasing you, running the tip of the sex toy over your labia and grinning as you whimpered.

“Pathetic. What do you want, my little slut?”

‘Y-you...please?”

“Hmm...I don’t think you deserve my cock just yet, though. A fake dick should be enough for a brat like you.”

“Am not a brat!” You whined, tugging at your restraints.

Hyunjin pulled the vibrator away, frowning at you. “You’re just asking for us to punish you, aren’t you?”

You squinted at him, confusion spreading across your features. “Us?”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I don’t think I alone would be able to carry out the punishment you deserve. Who should I call? I need someone who can put you in your place....”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Minho and Chan are right next door...”

You shook your head. “N-no, please...you know their punishments are harsher!”

Hyunjin nodded. “Exactly. But they also have a tendency to hog you so...” He paused, before grinning. “I know! I’ll call Felix.”

You whined. “But...but-”

“No buts, my love. Now, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” He presses the vibrator against your entrance, slowly pushing it in. You gasp and throw your head back at the vibration, whimpering as Hyunjin blew you a kiss before leaving.

You wait for what seemed like hours but  in reality was only a few minutes before the door opened...however, it wasn’t who you expected.

“Minho?”

The man in question frowned as he saw your spread-eagled form. His eyes traveled from your tear-streaked face to your stuffed pussy, your legs shaking as you tried to say something.

He came closer, shutting the door behind him as his lips slowly twisted into a smirk.

“I could hear footsteps leaving from your room, so I decided to come check on you...I’m definitely glad I decided to, now.”

“M-Minho, it’s not what it looks like...”

“It looks like someone decided to punish you. What did you do now?”

He came over, standing in front of you with his arms crossed, an infuriating smirk on his face.

“I...well...” you gulped. It would be easier to just tell him the truth.

“I was...touching myself, and Hyunjin caught me...”

“He did, did he?” Minho glanced around. “Where is he, then?”

“He went to g-get Felix...” your words trailed off into a moan as you felt your orgasm building up. Minho noticed the way your legs started shaking, grinning as he climbed onto the bed and tugged the vibrator out of your pussy, humming as he ran a finger over its wet tip.

“Minhoo...”

He glanced at you sternly. “Shut up. You don’t deserve to cum just yet.” 

He tilted his head, observing the vibrator before flicking it off and pressing it to your lips. “Open.” He commanded, tapping your thigh. You whined, obeying him and letting him slip it into your mouth. 

Just then the door opened.

Your eyes shot past Minho, landing on Felix and Hyunjin.

“Still mad about me waking you up, Lixie?”

“Hm, not anymore...” Felix licked his lips as he watched Minho fuck the dildo into your mouth.

“I thought it was just gonna be the two of us, though...” Felix said, entering the room and sitting on the bed, eyes still trained on you.

Hyunjin chuckled. “I thought so, too.”

Minho sighed, not ceasing his actions as he replied. “The more the merrier, hmm, Jinnie? I can’t believe you were thinking of punishing her without me...”

Minho shoved the dildo as far down your mouth as possible, making you gag. He pulled it out finally, setting it down and humming lowly as he got off the bed, pulling a chair close to the bed and flopping down on it. “Go ahead, you two. Show me how you were planning to punish her...”

Hyunjin gritted his teeth, getting on the bed. “Sure, hyung.” He grabbed your chin, smiling at your tears and drool-streaked face. 

“Hmm, don’t cry, angel. We haven’t even started yet.” He smirked, glancing at Felix. “Look how fucked out she is already...”

Hyunjin groaned as he spread your thighs, your glistening pussy exposed to the three men in the room. “So wet, like always...”

He moved to press a kiss to your clit, his tongue swiping over your folds before prodding at your entrance.

“This is what you were hoping for, hmm? So desperate for punishment. It’s almost laughable.” He slid his tongue into you, shallowly fucking you with it as his finger moved to rub your clit. You scrunched your eyes shut, the pleasure feeling too heavenly...however, you knew you wouldn’t be allowed to cum anytime soon, so you tried your best to stave off your orgasm. 

“Kitten, open your eyes.”

You peeled them open, looking at Minho. He was sat back on the chair, slowly pumping his cock as he watched your quivering form, Hyunjin continuing his ministrations. When you tore your eyes away from Minho to look at Felix, you found him in a similar position, hand wrapped around his length.

“She loves being watched. It’s so cute.” There were low chuckles in the room and you struggled to keep your eyes open, the humiliation turning you on even more as you felt Hyunjin’s plump lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as his fingers reached your pussy.

He shoved two fingers in without warning, making you scream as he continued his onslaught.

You felt your orgasm approaching, whimpering as you clenched around his fingers, hoping he would take mercy on you and let you cum. But of course, he pulled out just before you fell over the edge.

“Tsk, not yet, slut.”

Hyunjin sighed, moving aside and allowing Felix to move closer. Somehow he’d gotten completely naked, and was now rubbing his cock against your folds.

“Want a cock in your pussy, hm? You’ll have to beg for it.”

Eyes glassy, you succumbed to the thick pleasure in your brain. 

“P-please, need your cock, want to be stuffed with it...” you cried.

Felix clicked his tongue. “Alright, since you asked so nicely...”

He slammed into you, his cock filling you up perfectly, tears pricking at your eyes as he set a relentless pace almost immediately. His fingers came up to caress your boobs, fingers running over your nipples as he angled his hips to hit you deeper.

Your eyes fluttered as you felt yourself drown in the pleasure you were feeling, loving the feeling of his hands on you. You could hear shuffling sounds from behind him, but it didn’t matter. At the moment, all you could think about was Felix and his length, driving into you over and over again. 

However, you were quickly forced to open your eyes when you felt the head of Hyunjin’s cock pressing against your lips. You opened your mouth, softly suckling on the tip and prompting a groan from the man as he slid his length deeper, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly.

At this point, you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone see Minho approach. You barely registered his wicked smile as he tapped Felix on the shoulder, making him pull out, followed by Hyunjin. You felt Minho slide in behind you, pulling you onto his lap.

“You want to be stuffed with cocks in all your holes? We’ll grant your wish.”

Your eyes were trained on Felix stroking his cock slowly as Minho prodded your anus with a lube-covered finger, slowly pushing it in and forcing you to break eye contact as you bit your lip.

After a few seconds, he added another finger before scissoring his digits gently, kissing your shoulder through it all.

“Ready, love?” You nodded, chewing on your lip as you felt him pull his fingers out, replacing them with the head of his cock.

Felix came forward, tapping his tip on your clit. 

Minho slowly pushed in, holding your waist as he sheathed his cock in you completely. You whimpered, head lolling as Felix lined his tip with your entrance.

They watched you, making sure you were fine before Felix slammed into you, grinning sadistically at your scream.

The two of them started fucking into you wildly, whispering dirty words which you could barely comprehend.

Wait, where was Hyunjin?

Your question was answered almost immediately as you felt Hyunjin’s cock on your cheek. You turned your face, taking him into your mouth again as you felt your body shake.

“Mm, what a good girl...” Hyunjin said, stroking your hair as the three of them began thrusting almost at the same time.

“She likes having all her holes stuffed...wants cum oozing out of all of them. Isn’t that right, kitten?” Minho asks, slapping your boob and groping it right after, Felix groaning at the sight.

All the sensations were proving to be too much to you, as you felt waves of pleasure rake through your abdomen. If you were denied your orgasm once again, you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore.

They seemed to have mercy on you for once though.

“Clenching already, baby? You close?” Felix mumbled, brushing a strand of hair out of the way and holding your left breast even as Minho continued stroking your right nipple, kissing your neck.

You whimpered in response, the vibrations causing Hyunjin to moan, fucking into your mouth harder.

You whined loudly as Felix pinched your clit, your orgasm ripping through you suddenly.

You felt tears prick your eyes as they resumed their thrusts, riding out your orgasm. You dropped your head back against Minho’s shoulder, the stimulation making fresh tears run down your cheeks.

“F-fuck..I’m going to cum...” Felix said, his grip on you tightening as his strokes became deeper and rougher. Judging by the way Hyunjin clutched your hair tighter, pulling slightly, you could tell he was close as well.

Felix came first, spurting his seed deep into you as he struggled to keep himself up, burying his face in your neck as he moaned. Soon after, you felt Hyunjin cum down your throat with a groan, pulling out halfway through and causing the liquid to leak down your chin. He gripped your chin, nodding in satisfaction as Felix pulled out slowly, his eyes sparkling with desire as he dipped a finger in the mess between your thighs.

Merely a few seconds of calmness passed by before Minho was fucking into your ass again harshly, his fingers coming round to stroke your clit as Felix mumbled praises, Hyunjin patting your head as you felt your lower half burn.

“F-fuck- such a slutty kitten for us, hm?” Minho breathed shakily, his finger coming up from your clit to poke at your navel.

“She’s a good slut for us. Isn’t that right, princess?” Hyunjin said, the pad of his finger running over your cum-covered bottom lip. The final straw was when Felix shoved two fingers into your pussy with no warning, making you scream as you felt another orgasm wash over you. It was so sudden that you felt yourself convulse, Minho’s cock plunging into you mercilessly throughout it all.

The way you were clenching around him drove him crazy, twitching as he finally came, fingers so tight around your breast that you were sure it would leave marks.

Minho panted as he released you, gripping your waist and slowly lifting you off his cock, Hyunjin letting out an appreciative groan at the sight of your leaking holes.

“You’re prettiest when you’re like this...” Felix said, kissing your cheek.

You whimpered, eyes closing and unable to speak. when you felt yourself being removed from Minho’s lap, the man turning you around to face him as Felix got off the bed, Hyunjin taking his place behind you and dragging you so that you were on all fours, ass in the air. You looked back at him questioningly.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow stroking your ass. “You didn’t think this was over, did you, princess?”

Felix chuckled, stroking your hair and brushing it out of your face as you nodded hesitantly. “Maybe we should invite the others to watch this pathetic sight...” He mumbled. You shook your head frantically, pouting before looking down.

Minho tilted your chin up with his finger. 

“Oh no, kitten. The fun’s just started. You wanted to cum? We’ll give you what you want, won’t we, Jinnie?” He glanced up at the other boy before grinning back down at you as Hyunjin started caressing your ass gently, before coming down on the flesh all of a sudden and making you yelp.

“Now, be a good toy for us, won’t you?”

[egelantier]

disco elysium

i fall into a proper gaming binge every half a year or so, and then forget that computers games exist altogether. my last bout of addiction was hades, a gorgeous roguelite about trying to get out of the underworld and dealing with family, bigger on the inside than it seemed outside. now i've spent a week headfirst into the beautiful madness of disco elysium, and i'm nowhere close to done. middle of the second playthrough, at least a couple more ahead, maybe three, maybe five - this kind of not closer to be done. finally, almost a decade later, there's a spiritual successor to planescape: torment, perfect, unique and compelling like nothing else. i'm head over heels in love.

(and a note: it's very much a game that can and should be played by non-gamers. it's a true click-and-pointer; the entirety of its action happens through dialogue. give it a try.)

in disco elysium, your character wakes up in an absolutely trashed hotel room, coming off a bender of epic proportions, fucked up beyond recognition, and fully amnesiac. it turns out you're visiting a (very much not) sunny town of revachol, a slowly decaying remnant of revolution and consequent war, and, well. you're a cop, and you're here to investigate a murder. namely, a murder of somebody whose dead body is still hanged in the backyard…

this is a horrendous mess, and you are a horrendous mess - bloated, amnesiac, confused, weird, pathetic, with a host of warring impulses and demands fighting for space in your head - but thankfully there's a pillar of stability and light in your dark world, waiting just downstairs: lieutenant kim katsuragi, your assigned partner from another station, a man with godlike sense of dignity and practically endless amount of quiet patience for your bullshit. together with him, you can investigate a crime, try to stop a small civil war, solve a couple of questions of the universe, and maybe, if you play your cards just once, dance a truly epic dance together in a shot-up church. there are also cryptids, karaoke, board games, collecting bottles for money, a mystery of a crashed police car, discovering your own feelings about the homo-sexual underground, and many, many other things.

(the gameplay: you have four sets of stats (intellect, sensitivity, physicality, interacting with objects) and, depending on how you distribute them, you play a wildly different character every time. there's no way to fail: your detective can be dumb as a bag of rocks but able to get by on intuition and muscle memory, or smart and horrible with people, or empathetic and weak, or - the combinations are endless. the game is conducted via a combination of red stat checks that you can do only once, and white checks that you can try, fail, up your stats and retry again. aside from a handful of cases, a lot of time it's easier - and funnier - to accept failures rather than try for a perfect go every time. you are a hot mess, after all. there are ten game days, a variety of sidequests and tasks, and almost endless variability in how you approach them. everything is connected, except for that one door.)

(there's also a political system, where you eventually pick up your political affiliation: a communist, a libertarian, a fascist, and a wishy-washy uncommitted liberal. the game has a lot of things to tell you about all your choices, most of them funny, some of them horrendous. there's no innocence here, and no way to weasel out of the consequences of your worldview; and you could also see that it was done by eastern europe people.)

and the thing is. the thing is, it's very much the kind of a game where you perform a field autopsy on a three days old corpse while a couple of preteen kids are watching avidly and offering their color commentary, and at some point you have to rummage in the corpse's mouth and feel its brain stem. a lot of very, very bad things happen or happened - to you, to the people around you, to the town around you, to the world around you. where in fallout you rolled into town with your stats jacked high and your blaster in hand, and solved ancient disputes and established peace, here the weight of the history is very, very heavy, and you're very, very small. you can't solve the decades of violence and war and trauma and colonization and poverty with the power of your save-scumming and pithy one liners, alas; but you can solve a murder. you can help a sweet and worried old woman. you can put your cheek to a kid's fuzzy plush toy, when offered. you can tell a person, gently, that their loved one is dead, and lie about how drunk they were when they did that. you can replace a taxidermied bird you broke. you can sit on the swing with your partner, waiting for the low tide, and whistle together - two birds on the wire…

it's the gentlest, kindest, sweetest, most hopeful game i've seen in the last decade. it's a goddamn manifesto to human spirit, and to how only - well, love - holds the world, always falling apart, together. a huge part of it is your relationship with kim, because believe me, whoever you are, most of your playthrough would be dedicated to chasing kim's approval and to winning his trust. but it also sneaks into all the cases, all the dialogues, all the little throwaway details. everybody is human; everybody is awful; everybody is holy, even you. oh, even you.

(there are storylines you can or can not discover. about why harry is such a mess - and it's awful and i loved how it was done, with empathy and grace and no judgement; about the state of the world, a bit of eldritch horror so throwaway and beautiful i would read entire volumes just about that; about the city of locusts; about a small girls' memory of playing in the reeds; about the scar of the revolution. suliram, ram, ram…)

(it's also brilliantly, awfully, absurdly, hysterically funny. Art Cop run alone makes me just about die. every failure is funnier than the other. you can be as weird as you want to - in fact, the game encourages you to be as weird as you want to be - and the world around will react accordingly, outperforming you in sheer absurdity. there's a war-and-peace sized amount of dialogue and description in the game, and it's written by some damn genius of pratchettian caliber.)

and, and and. honestly, the best way to get sucked into this game is not reviews, it's random quotes and screenshots, out -of-context spoilers - it's more or less impossible to resist. but please, oh please, give it a try.

>Someone's been walking around in your dreams lately, looking for something. Tidying up, rearranging. Storing away all the unrealized dreams, putting old pains in boxes. The worst nightmares have settled down for a while. A spot of light on the bedroom door after the dark. The fluttering of eyelids in the spring sun. A thought that arises, only to disappear again. And yet there's a pattern emerging…

>What if you didn’t lose your memory? What if something in Martinaise came and stored it all away. For you to slowly open one box at a time. So you can choose which parts to keep. Keep almost none of it. Only the flowers on the windowsill. Only the distant sound of a radio. Lose all the actors, the dark shadows, leave only the still lifes, the blissful distant wash of waves. If everybody knew -- you never did. She’ll be coming soon. That is all.