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system-to-the-madness · 4 months ago

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Still Loved - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: : James Buchanan ‘Bucky‘ Barnes x fem!Reader Era: post-tfatws Genre: fluff Word Count: 6 039 Warnings: food, crying Bucky, Bucky’s having a bit of a crisis, mentions of Bucky’s past Summary: Bucky’s fully prepared to spend his birthday alone, but you have different plans A/N: Happy Birthday to our Bucky! spent like an hour looking up Brooklyn accent, feel like I know less than before, probably did it all wrong. Don’t come for me unless you feel confident enough to do it in spelled out Franconian German.

Bucky wasn’t entirely certain why he woke up with the feeling of dread having settled deep into his stomach. Not until he had turned and grabbed his phone from the nightstand anyway. The date caught his eye without him meaning to check it, and he froze.

The 10th of March had always been a day he had looked forward to, his favourite day of the year. As a child, he had known it would be the one day, where his Ma would take him out to a café, leaving his siblings with the babysitter. They’d sit in a window spot, eating cake and laughing until his stomach hurt. He remembered how every year the shop seemed to shrink, the table and the chairs became smaller, and eventually his feet would reach down to the floor. In the evenings his Da would come home to the family, all four children running to hug him, but on the 10th of March the hug Bucky got was especially long and tight. His Da would always be the one to bring the presents. Sometimes there were two or three small ones, usually small toys Bucky had seen in the shops, or books, once he could read. Other times there was one big present, a little machine he could assemble himself, a chemistry set or the pocketknife he had gotten for his tenth birthday. Really, those days, the 10th of March of every year until 1943 had to have been the best days of his life. Later, after he had met Steve, he still would let his Ma take him to the café, would still welcome his Da home, but in the afternoons, after class, he'd hang out with Steve, just taking walks and buying insane amounts of sweets on their way around the blocks.

Now… Bucky wished his bed would swallow him whole and spit him out tomorrow, preferably without his memories of this day. He wasn’t sure what the worst part of his birthday was now. That the whole world knew it was his birthday, and somehow expected him to do something meaningful that day? That everyone expected him to somehow make time so they could congratulate him for being born, when really he had had very little say in the matter? Or maybe it was for surviving so long? Yeah, he’d rather not be reminded of the conditions for his survival.

Maybe he didn’t like his birthday, because while the whole world remembered, nobody ever really made him feel as special as his family had, with his Ma taking him out to the café, his Da handing him his present with a knowing smile, Steve sheepishly giving him a rolled up drawing of a spot Bucky had commented recently on liking, his sisters giving him flowers they picked themselves or trying to put them in his hair.

These days, people shook his hand and said: “Happy Birthday” and kept moving along as if nothing had happened. Sure, he didn’t expect, didn’t want, the whole world to make a big fuss, but at least the few people he was closest to… Well, that wasn't a lot of people if he was being honest. There was Sam, for one. Sam, who had been sent on a mission to Alaska last night, so he wouldn’t be home for a while. Then there was Joaquin, if Bucky even cared to count him. Who had gone with Sam, for obvious reasons. Sharon hadn’t been in contact for months. And again, not necessarily the person he was closest with. That left…

Bucky sighed and sunk back in his pillow. Yeah, there was no way he’d celebrate his birthday in a meaningful way this year either. You were the one person he would always count on to have by his side, considering you weren’t nearly as often out of the city as Sam or Joaquin. But you had a deadline to meet for a project that had been going on for almost a whole year now, and Bucky understood that even if you could make time for something like his birthday, you probably would not be in the mood. If he were lucky, he’d get to see you tomorrow. Or on Wednesday. No, not Wednesday. That was too far away.

He sighed again, running his hand over his face. This was pathetic. Hadn’t he seen you just on Saturday? The two of you had played darts with Sam, and you had been world-record-breakingly bad at it, and somehow it had been the most endearing thing Bucky had seen since- well, since the weekend before that, when you had put some cookie batter on his nose and laughed gleefully, apparently absolutely ecstatic about the way he had raised his eyebrows at you and pressed his lips together. The second part had mostly been to suppress the urge to kiss you, but his point was standing: it was absolutely pathetic that he, a grown man of what? 108 years old could not even go half a week without seeing you.

His phone made a weird noise that faintly sounded like a cackle, which wasn’t surprising since the ringtone he had set for messages from Sam was a sound recording of the man himself laughing his ass off over a small mistake Joaquin had made. Grabbing the phone off his bedside table again, he opened the message, phrased in the usual nonchalant-sounding tone Sam loved to use. A few years ago, he might have been confused at Sam’s message, but by now he knew him well enough to understand that this was simply his way of showing he cared. Reading through the birthday message actually made a smile tuck at Bucky’s lips and he quickly replied with a heartfelt thank you, appreciating that Sam had taken a few minutes away from the mission to send him this message.

Realising that he couldn’t spend the whole day in bed, Bucky got up, making sure to disconnect his phone from the Wi-Fi so he wouldn’t be tempted to check social media, and made his way to the bathroom. A long shower, a hearty breakfast and two chapters of his current reading later, there was a knock on his door, making him pause mid-sentence.

Quickly he went through all the people who would check up on him in person, coming to a similar conclusion as this morning: There was nobody. Sam and Joaquin were on a mission, Sharon was god-knew-where and you were probably drowning in work and incompetent co-workers… Now that he thought about it, he could pick up some lunch and drop by your workplace. That would mean for one, he might help you destress a little over shared lunch, and two he would get to see you before Wednesday. But… would you even have time to talk to him, even if it was just twenty minutes over some take-out sushi? Or would that just add to your stress? He’d hate himself, if he made your day even worse than it already was by additionally stressing you out over insisting he was so self-centred that he ignored your needs over his wish to spend his birthday with you.

Another knock on his door made him interrupt that thought and hesitantly he got up. What if his address had been leaked to the public again, and these were some people whose families the Winter Soldier had killed? Or worse: fans? He appreciated the support, he really did, he just wished people wouldn’t come up to him and confront him with their sexual fantasies about the Winter Soldier, the will-less killing machine he had once been.

Checking the camera next to his entrance made him furrow his brows in confusion and quickly he opened the door.

“What are ya doin’ here,” he asked, irritated but unable to hide the smile that began pulling at his lips.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” you cheered, holding a bouquet of flowers out to him.

“I- uhm,” surprised, but now definitely smiling, he took the flowers and stepped aside, letting you in. “Thank ya!”

“You didn’t mention your birthday at all when we hung out last time, so I figured, I should check up on you,” you explained, following him into the kitchen after you had toed off your shoes in the hallway.

“Ya didn’t have to come,” Bucky told you, rummaging through his cupboards, looking for a glass that was big enough to fit the flowers. “I know ya super busy with that project.”

“Well, guess what?”

“Hm?”

“I handed it in-” you glanced at your watch, “about thirty minutes ago!”

“What? Really?” Surprised Bucky turned around to you, placing the flowers down and crossed the short distance to you, wrapping you in a rare hug. “Congratulations! Ya finally got it over with!”

“I do,” you grinned, hugging him back, and Bucky couldn’t help but hold you a bit tighter, feeling your warm body press against his, feeling your torso expand and deflate with each breath you took. He was inhaling the soft scent of your shampoo, his hands carefully resting on the thin jacket you were still wearing, and he had to remind himself, that this was a casual hug, nothing more.

“I’m so proud of ya,” he whispered against your hair, before pulling away slowly, hoping you didn’t notice the blush on his cheeks. “I thought the deadline was Friday though…”

“It is,” you answered, taking a step backwards, unable to meet his eyes, and for a terrifying second Bucky worried he might have made you feel uncomfortable, but then you were smiling again and the thought evaporated from his mind. “I put in some extra work last week, so I could finish it in time to spend your birthday with you.”

“Shouldn’t we- shouldn’t we celebrate that it’s over,” Bucky asked, “I mean, it feels like a pretty big thing. Ya should celebrate. With ya co-workers or…”

You scoffed. “Nah, thank you. I have seen enough of them. And I do intend to celebrate. Tomorrow. Today’s all about you. So, what do you say: Lunch? Unless you have other plans?”

Bucky smiled. “All free,” he let you know before finally deciding on a beer mug Sam had brought him as a gift from his last trip to Germany, knowing fully well that beer did nothing to Bucky’s super-soldier body and metabolism.

After he had arranged the flowers, all while trying to ignore the way you were leaning with your shoulder against his fridge and watched him, he put on a shirt that made him look at least a little more like he was planning on heading out and his leather jacket, and let you lead the way to a small restaurant.

It was almost impossible to find spots in Brooklyn that were not busy around the lunch time, but the restaurant you had chosen, in a small backstreet, seemed just far away enough from the big streets to avoid the worst of the trouble. It was a lovely little place, with a window nook, into which the waiter guided the two of you to sit, looking out into a slightly more crowded street. It was an Italian place, the walls painted with sceneries of the Mediterranean, small olive trees growing in pots next to the door, fairy lights in wine bottles strung along the ceiling, and soft, Italian music playing over speakers hidden behind fake vines.

The elderly gentleman with a strong Italian accent, Emillio, handed the two of you menus and made a big gesture out of lighting the candle on the table between you, even while soft spring sunlight was flickering in through the window.

When he had stepped away again, Bucky leant over. “How confused do ya think he’ll be, when I order in Italian?”

“You speak Italian?”

He shrugged: “Well, a little.” He leant back again with a smug grin, watching as you were furrowing your brows.

“Since when?”

“Some time in ‘43, I guess… See, we were stationed in Italy, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

As he was speaking, your amused smile slowly dropped, and an expression of thinly veiled horror began creeping over your face.

“Shi- I’m so sorry,” you apologized, making it Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“What for? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“For- I mean- I completely forgot you were stationed in Italy and now I dragged you to an Italian restaurant-”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the way you looked around, half-panicked as if the sight of a wine-bottle might trigger a traumatising memory for him. “I appreciate ya concern, I really do, but it’s fine, ya hear? It’s all fine.”

Reaching over the table, he covered your hand with his, stroking the back of it gently.

“I love Italian food,” he reassured you, who only slowly began relaxing again.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid,” you groaned, turning your hand to wrap your fingers around his. “I should have thought about this.”

“No, trust me,” Bucky laughed quietly, leaning forward again, “It’s all fine. Apart from the fact that it’ll be hard findin’ a country in which I haven’t - worked, I do love Italian. And it’s romantic.”

He wasn’t sure why he said the last part, or why he thought it to be necessary to kiss the back of your hand, before placing it back down on the table. But the way you looked at him for a brief moment, before you averted your eyes as if you had seen something that wasn’t meant for you to see, was worth any possible embarrassment that could have followed. Because for a short moment, Bucky was sure he had seen a glimmer in your eyes. Not the kind of glimmer the girls in the ‘40s had had in their eyes when he had asked them to dance, the glimmer of a quick crush. But rather the glimmer that Sam always joked about being in Bucky’s eyes when he looked at you or talked about you.

The first few times Sam had teased him, Bucky had still reacted to it, worried you might find out about his hidden feelings for you, but soon he had realised Sam always made sure to do it without you noticing; he was a good guy after all.

But having seen this small spark in your eyes now, gave Bucky confidence like he hadn’t had in a long time. He had been good with the ladies once, he knew how to talk to them, make them swoon, and there had never been one who he had taken interest in, who he hadn’t gotten to take interest in him, too.

Oh, knowing he could probably get you to make a move on him without having to reveal his feelings first gave him a boost of confidence he knew would end in disaster. That left only the question of whether he wanted to. This was no date after all. It would be unfair of him to use what had been but a split second’s impression as a basis to turn a casual lunch into something you might not have intended at all. But did that mean he shouldn’t try?

Bucky was watching you closely, how you opened the menu and scanned the pages as if looking for something. You seemed nervous, biting your lip absentmindedly, and your eyes always flickering up, as if tempted to look at him. The good kind of nervous, he concluded, not the bad kind.

“I think, I’ll stick with pasta today,” you told him, finally looking up, allowing him a break from his racing thoughts.

“Oh, pasta sounds good,” Bucky agreed, “I think I’d like some carbonara. Haven’t had that in a while. At least if they don’t put cream in it.”

After Bucky’s unusually carefree and outright flirty gesture, the rest of lunch passed without any more incidents. Bucky ordered food and drinks for both of you in Italian, using the opportunity to ask whether there was cream in the carbonara (there wasn’t), and Bucky’s apparently fluid language skills were enough to draw several other staff members to your table, all of them Italian as it seemed and all of them in one way or another related Emillio.

As Bucky was talking to who he assumed to be the husband of the original waiter’s cousin, trying to explain that, no, you were not his wife, not his fiancée either, and no he was not about to propose to you, he could feel your eyes on him. Unable to help himself, he glanced over to you, finding you were watching as he was speaking in Italian, gesturing almost desperately to the clearly amused older man in front of him. You had tilted your head to the side a little, a soft smile on your face, your eyes taking in his gestures as if you were studying him. When he met your eyes, your smile broadened, and he lost his train of thoughts, stuttering over his own words, before quickly averting his gaze again. It was impossible really, how easily you made him lose his train of thoughts. All you had to do was smile at him and any rational thought was replaced by the thought of you.

The food was, for a lack of better words, otherworldly. It tasted better than anything he had eaten in a very long time, but he wasn’t sure how much of this credit should be paid to the kitchen, and how much to his company. You had eaten with a clear appetite, enjoying the meal as much as he did, sometimes closing your eyes in bliss at the delicious dish before you.

Of course, you had also tried almost killing him with a heart attack, as you had fed him some of your food with your own fork, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he had to remind himself that it wasn’t the first time. You often shared fries while walking in the park and yes, it had happened that you fed the fries to him, but usually Bucky followed up the action with a sharp stare over at Sam, as if daring the superhero to call out the gesture.

After finishing the meal, the plates had been taken away, and Bucky had ordered coffee and dessert for both of you, before you pulled out a small package you seemed to have hidden underneath your jacket.

“It’s nothing special,” you apologised, sliding the in flowered paper bound package over the table to Bucky.

“What is it,” he asked, a curious smirk pulling at his lips.

“A birthday present. From both Sam and me. As I said, nothing special, but… you know.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he reached out, taking the package. Judging from the weight and the size, and the way it felt under his fingers, he suspected a book. Suddenly his throat started to feel weirdly rough, and he quickly swallowed away the awkwardness.

“Ya didn’t have to get me anything’,” he quickly said, hoping his eyes didn’t look as wet as they felt. It had been a long time, a really long time since he had been given anything physical as a present that wasn’t meant to help him fulfil some kind of duty for the giver.

“It’s your birthday, of course we had to,” you disagree. “Well, I say we but Sam wasn’t really that involved in the process. I think he’s more the ‘let’s make memories together’ kinda guy.”

Bucky chuckled at your description of Sam, remembering how he had threatened him with taking him out for drinks after coming back from the mission he was on now. Running his hands over the smooth wrapping paper, Bucky pointed to it.

“Can I open it?”

“That’s what it’s for, sure!”

Encouragingly you lent forward, propping your elbows on the table. The light of the candle between you mirrored in your eyes and for a moment, Bucky was threatened to get lost in the light that seemed to pour out from you, but then he quickly turned back to the package in front of him. Carefully he tore at the scotch tape, making sure not to rip the paper too much. Sure enough, once he folded the paper away, he revealed a book. Flipping it, he curiously studied the title.

“‘The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring’,” he read out loud, showing you the cover as if you hadn’t been the one who had chosen the book for him. “By… wait, that name sounds familiar. Tolkien… Isn’t that the author of ‘The Hobbit’?”

“That’s him,” you nodded, smiling as you watched Bucky flip the book over so he could study the cover himself again, the dark blue fabric with the silver imprinted letters. “It’s… well, it’s like a sequel to ‘The Hobbit’, but following Bilbo’s nephew. You mentioned having read ‘The Hobbit’, so I thought you might enjoy it. The whole ‘Lord of the Rings’ is three parts, but I need presents for Christmas and your next birthday, too, so don’t you dare buying the other books yourself.”

Bucky nodded with a smile, fighting the urge to look up at you again, flipping open the book instead.

“Oh, it has a map,” he exclaimed, quickly busying himself with studying the drawings, running his fingers over the familiar names of the Shire, Rivendell, the Misty Mountains. “Maps are good.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” you told him, and finally he gave himself permission to look up at you again. Which turned out to be a big mistake, because you had that soft expression in your eyes again, which made his knees weak and made him want to reach out over the table, intertwine his fingers with yours, and kiss your hand again without having to hide the admiration he held for you.

Not long after, your coffee and desserts got served, giving Bucky something else to focus on besides the way his heart kept beating at a fast pace, almost as if your presence alone kept him alive. That you still kept looking at him so softly, laughed freely at his jokes, and reached out to touch his hand once or twice was not helping him.

As he was chewing on a spoonful of tiramisu, arguably the best he had ever had, he looked out of the window into the street beyond. It reminded him of the afternoons, in which his Ma had taken him to the café. The scent of black coffee in the air, the sweetness of a creamy treat on his tongue… sure, the street outside looked different, the clothes he wore, the company he kept. But at the heart of this memory there was always a window out into a busy street, the scent of coffee in the air, a dessert on his spoon and a woman he loved in front of him. Back then, it had been his mother, now you. You, who were so different from his mother, who he loved in such an entirely different way. But still he loved you, he loved you like he had never loved anyone before.

The realisation hit him in that moment, that yes, he had gone out with countless girls in his life, but none of them had ever even remotely meant as much to him as you did. What if he lost you, too? The same way he had lost everyone else he had ever loved, first his family and friends when he had gone to war, then Steve, when he had left him for the past? What if you left him too? What if his love would not be reciprocated? Was today just an outliner instead of a glimpse into his future? Would that soft look in your eyes fade again once he stepped outside this restaurant? Would the brush of your fingers against his stop meaning anything?

A soft touch against his cheek startled him back into the moment. Looking over, he realised he had frozen while looking outside, the spoon with the next bite of tiramisu halfway to his mouth. You had stood up from your seat, propping yourself up on the table with one hand, as you brushed at his cheek with the other, a concerned look in your eyes.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“I-” Only then he realised that you had brushed at a tear that had run down from his eye. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was thinkin’ of my Ma and… she would take me out to a café on my birthday, every year. It was just her and me, showin’ me that even though she had three small children at home, I was still important to her. I was-” Bucky’s throat closed up, and he averted his eyes, from where you had sat back down again, only dropped his spoon into his plate, and ran his hand over his face. For the second time in less than an hour, realisation hit him so hard, that he felt like all air was knocked out of him. “My family loved me so much. My Ma, my Da, my sisters- I was loved so much.”

It was embarrassing, to cry in front of you, in a public restaurant of all places, but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to help it. He had to be honest about his thoughts to someone, and you had always felt like the safest person for that. While he tried regaining his composure, you took his other hand, wrapping both of yours around his, and held it tightly.

“I’m happy that you had such a wonderful family,” you told him quietly. You didn’t tell him not to cry, didn’t tell him to calm down, he realised. You acknowledged his feelings, and that did not help his helpless love for you at all. “I’m happy you were loved by the people around you. And I’m so sorry that they’re gone now. But I need you to know that you are still loved. It can’t replace the way your mother loved you, or your father, or your sisters. But you are still loved.” You hesitated, and for a moment Bucky wondered whether you had read his thoughts, this nagging question of whether he was even still worth being loved after all he had done, after all the suffering he had caused. “And you are worth it Bucky, always have been.” Maybe you were destined to be with him, as his friend at least.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to calm down, before he felt confident enough to drop his hand away from his face again. All the time you never had let go of his other.

A few minutes passed, and he was back to smiling, thanking you quietly for being there for him, which you waved off with a smile, reminding him that you would always be there when he needed you to be. Besides, it was his birthday, and yes of course, you would be there for him on his birthday, too.

By the time you had finished your dessert and coffee as well, Bucky felt like he had lost all sense of time. And for the first time in a long time, he loved it. The lines between his old life and his new life were blurred by the feeling of your consideration for him, this feeling of being cared for so naturally being something he had not dared hoping he would ever get to experience again. At the same time, it seemed impossible to tell how much time had passed since you had stepped into the restaurant together. Had it been only twenty minutes or ten hours? And this morning seemed as fast as half a lifetime away anyway.

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Bucky quickly took the chance to pay for the meal, even though he knew you had wanted to invite him, which earned him a scolding and a pout from you, as you returned, but knowing smiles from the staff, who had insisted on not billing him for the dessert. In turn he made sure to tip them generously.

After you had calmed down from scolding him, and accepted your fate, you grabbed your jackets and headed out. The sun was shining, surprisingly warm spring air met you as you stepped outside, followed by the calls of ‘thank you’ and ‘come back soon’ from the waiters.

Bucky flipped up the collar of his leather jacket, as if subconsciously bracing himself for what was inevitably to come next: saying goodbye to you. You had spent already more than half of your day on him, had stressed yourself out the entire previous week to even make time for this, and while Bucky had spent half of his brain capacity over the past hour on finding a way to drag the inevitable out, he felt like it would be inappropriate for him to try and keep you around for much longer.

You had stepped out of the restaurant first, after he had held the door open for you, and now you were holding your face into the sun, eyes closed as you let the beams warm your skin.

For a moment, Bucky stopped in his tracks, just looking at you. You had never been especially guarded or scared around him, not even in the beginning, not more than one would be around a normal stranger anyway. Now, you were completely relaxed, a soft smile on your face, lashes resting against your cheeks, shoulders dropped casually. You were stunningly beautiful, Bucky realised, not for the first time. He wished he could take a picture of you like this, burn the memory into his brain to always return to this moment, you, standing in the sun, so relaxed and carefree, him, in his leather jacket, the book you had given him for this birthday in hand, the fabric of the spine weighing heavy against this skin.

“So!”

Tearing Bucky out of his happy little bubble, you turned to face him, eyes sparkling, happy. God, he loved you.

“Where to now,” you asked, turning to head towards the next bigger street, Bucky falling into step beside you. “I was thinking, since you’re interested in engineering, there’s this new, interactive museum in Manhattan, combining engineering and art, the Museum of Art and Technology. I don’t know if that’s something you’d be interested in, but it sounded kind of interesting…”

Bucky was only half listening to what you were saying, too distracted by the way your hand kept brushing against his with each step. Carefully he moved his fingers, prolonging the contact with the back of your hand for a few moments, and with the next time your skin brushed against the cool vibranium of his hand, you slipped your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around him in a manner that made his breath catch in his throat in the best way possible. In disbelief he looked up from the ground he had fixed his eyes on, surprised when he found you were already looking at him expectantly.

“What do you think,” you asked, clearly referring to a question he hadn’t caught, too distracted by the fact that you had just taken his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it were routine. He wanted it to be routine, wanted it to become routine. He’d never be able to forget the soft touch of your hand in his either way.

“Museum,” he asked back, the single word the last thing he had processed before getting distracted.

“Of Art and Technology,” you repeated, looking away from him again. “Wanna go?”

“Now?”

“Sure, now. Why not?”

“Ya don’t want to- go home or…” Bucky trailed off, keeping his eyes on you, watching how you were walking next to him, still holding his hand. Were you really as calm as you seemed? Didn’t it turn your whole world upside down that you were holding his hand?

“What,” you laughed, “do you? Already had enough of me, Barnes? Wait-” Suddenly you stopped, turning to him, your fingers loosening around his, but he held on; he wasn’t prepared to let go of you yet. “Do you want to go home?”

Bucky stared at you, just half-registering your question. There was a sudden vulnerability, almost hurt, in your eyes, which he didn’t like. He didn’t want you to feel anything but safe and cared for while you were with him. The spark in your eyes had dimmed, and the open, unguarded gaze with which you had been looking at him the whole day, began closing up as if you were preparing to be told off.

Quickly Bucky shook his head. “No,” he told you, maybe more forcefully than necessary. “I don’t. I wanna go to that museum with ya. I wanna-”

He stopped mid-sentence, not sure what exactly he was supposed to say other than that he wanted to keep spending time with you, that he was so infinitely glad that you had come to see him today, because it felt impossible to wait until Wednesday until he would allow himself to make up an excuse to see you.

But even those thoughts were lost when he looked at you, at how close you stood to him, still holding his hand, eyes widened slightly as if you were the one who was fearing rejection. Your lips were parted slightly, looking soft and sweet in the afternoon sun, their shape as perfect as if crafted by Michelangelo from living flesh. And that was where his mind stopped, like a cracked record, unable to move on from the thought of your lips, the thought of wanting to kiss your lips. He had wanted to do it for so long, had spent every minute in your presence wanting to kiss you. Why couldn’t being your friend be enough? Why did he have to want more than you had already given him? But he was selfish- for the first time in so, so long he was selfish enough to ask for something that was not offered to him.

“I wanna-” he repeated, unable to look away from you, “Can I kiss ya?”

Your eyes skipped between his for a terrifying moment, as if you were evaluating the honesty behind his words, and then you lent in, closing the gap between you, and pressed your lips to his, making his breath hitch and a shiver run down his spine. Closing his eyes, he gently tightened the hold on your hand, pulled you in until you stood chest to chest with him, and tried wrapping his arm around you without having to drop the book he was still holding. His whole world tipped over, gave the phrase of ‘falling in love’ a whole new meaning, but he didn’t mind it one bit, not with your hand on his chest, not with your lips, tasting of coffee and tiramisu against his, not when he could feel - not see, but feel - the way you smiled into the kiss.

When you pulled away, Bucky knew he was wearing the widest grin, not that he minded. It seemed like you noticed, too, because you reached up, and ran your thumb over his chin, along the lower line of his lips, scanning his face with what seemed like infinite softness in your eyes.

“Did you think I’d say no,” you teased, making him shake his head slightly.

“Can never know, love,” he offered with a smirk, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Where’d that nickname come from,” you teased, slowly pulling away, Bucky giving in only reluctantly.

“Oh, would ya prefer sweetheart? Honey? Angel?”

“Stop it,” you laughed, clearly flustered, making him grin wider. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Trust me, I haven’t even tried yet,” Bucky chuckled, pulling you into his side affectionately. “So, museum ya said. In Manhattan?”

Nodding, you began walking to the closest subway station, and while you started explaining about the museum, Bucky couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, his birthday could become his favourite day of the year again.

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 8 months ago

Note

Bucktommy drunken confessions🤭🤭

Please pick up your boyfriend, Howie texts just after 2 a.m.

Evan used his day off to help his brother-in-law assemble some furniture for Jee-Yun's new nursery – apparently, she’s outgrown her crib and is in dire need of some “big girl” room. For some reason, their DIY afternoon ended up turning into a boozy evening, and with Maddie on a shift and Howie obviously buzzed, it’s probably best to keep Evan from getting in his car. Luckily Jee-Yun is sleeping at Hen and Karen's tonight, because when Tommy arrives, her bed looks half-finished. The two men, on the other hand, look all the more done.

Howie's hair is tousled as if Jee-Yun has driven her Barbie truck through it, but he’s tipsy at most – Tommy knows that man can drink. Evan, however… well. Evan presents a lot of his chest; his shirt is half unbuttoned like in a 70s porn – it’s a nasty comparison, but Tommy likes the view.

“Here comes my boyfriend,” Evan croons, his cheeks flushed.

A quick glance at the table confirms that the men have switched from beer to tequila. Tommy heaves a sigh. Evan’s not on shift tomorrow, but he’s also not used to Tequila, Tommy knows that from experience. He will have to stay with him tonight - which isn't a bad thing, of course, but there are better ways to spend your time than listen to your loved ones vomit.

“Come on,” he says, ”I'll put you to bed.”

“Awesome, get ready for something!”

“Ew, I don't want to hear that,” Howie says, but Tommy just grins. “Don't worry, I don't think that's going to work today.”

“I don't want to hear that either!”

Tommy has a hard time getting Evan into the car and half expects him to fall asleep after he's forced him into the seatbelt. This man can sleep anywhere and in the most uncomfortable positions, and he always looks incredibly adorable. Even drunk, like now. But he doesn't fall asleep. He looks at Tommy with that amorous gaze he usually gives after other activities, and out of the blue, he goes, “Did you know that koalas are much lazier than sloths? They sleep almost 20 hours a day!”

Tommy threads his way into traffic, which is never really light even at night in L.A., replying, “No, Evan.”

“They eat eucalyptus...”

“I knew that,” Tommy interjects.

“Yeah of course, you’re clever,” he praises. “But koalas are the only mammals that can live off eucalyptus alone, it's poisonous to other animals.”

“Fascinating.”

It's not so much these random facts about koalas that he finds fascinating. It's just Evan, sitting there with that slightly glazed look on his face, completely relaxed. Knowing that he creates this relaxed atmosphere for this man, that he’s the one where he can be himself and let go… that’s a valuable treasure.

Evan goes on babbling for another fifteen minutes, including a dozen thank you’s for picking him up, and Tommy just enjoys his voice like a pleasant background noise. Every now and then he throws in something that always makes Evan's eyes light up. They’re almost to the loft when Evan says, “I love you,” in such a matter-of-fact tone, it makes Tommy almost wrench the steering wheel.

“That's lovely,” he answers, and he means it, but all he can think is tell me again when you're sober. Evan is too drunk to really understand what he has just said. It's something Tommy’s been dying to hear, something he was too afraid to say himself.

They somehow make it into the elevator, but as they stand in front of Evan's door, Tommy has to unlock it. Evan trips over his own feet, he almost crashes into the door. Tommy just shakes his head. His back will regret it in the morning, but he shoulders Evan without further ado. His boyfriend squeals with delight, even when he puts him down on the couch - there's no way he'll make it up the stairs with the man on his shoulders, and the bathroom is down here anyway.

“Oh man, I'm d-dizzy,” Evan sighs.

“I'm sure you are. Lie down, I'll get you a blanket.”

Tommy wants to get up, but Evan holds him back.

“Wait,” he says, suddenly with as much seriousness as a drunk can muster, “you didn't say it back.”

“What?”

Tommy thought he’d already forgotten, but this is Evan, he should have known better.

“I said I love you, but you didn't say anything, so maybe you don't love me, that's fine, I guess,” Evan rambles. “Anyway, I'm glad I said it, because it's true.”

Tommy couldn't even resist those Bambi eyes if the man asked him to run into a burning building without any protection. It's unreasonable and irrational, but he's head over heels for Evan, and he knows it. And then, suddenly, there's nothing holding him back, even if he only says it because he can convince himself that his boyfriend will forget about it in a few hours.

“I love you too, Evan.”

“Oh my God, really?”

Evan jumps up from the couch with a vigor as if he hadn't just said he was dizzy, and he sprints - not very elegantly - into the kitchen. He’s back in the blink of an eye, after pulling open a drawer and rummaging around in it. He pulls Tommy onto the couch, practically sits in his lap, looks at him with those doe eyes and says in a solemn tone, “Give me your hand.”

“Evan...”

“Give me your hand!”

Tommy’s learned early on that it's easier to give in to this whirlwind of a man, so he holds out his hand. Evan pushes something on Tommy's ring finger, having to do so three times before he finally hits.

“What are you doing?”

Tommy squints at his hand. It looks like ... a keyring, without a key of course; Evan has a junk drawer in the kitchen where he keeps things like that.

“It's a promise,” says Evan. “One d-day, Thomas Kinard, I will marry you. Just don't forget that!”

Tommy grabs the ring and replies dryly, “Don't worry, I won’t. It's so tight, I don't think I'll be able to get it off.”

“Got a ring cutter for that.”

He smirks, and Tommy can't help his lips to curl into a fond smile. He’s already aware of the ring cutter, even if he was surprised the first time he found it.

“Main thing is for you to say you'll marry me,” Evan says with his Bambi eyes, “one day, with a real ring. In a sh... a tchu... well, a church.”

He looks like a man proud he got that one word out right, but at the same time, he looks as serious as a drunkard can be. It doesn’t seem like something he’ll actually have forgotten in a couple of hours, rather like it’s been on his heart for a long time. It's a big deal, and Tommy doesn't want to answer lightly just to appease him. His own heart has long been far from casual, concerning Evan.

“But,” Evan continues, waving his arms, ”if it's really too tight for you, we'd better cut the thing open quickly. I’ve seen a guy, finger swollen as big as an eggplant, couldn’t get his wedding ring off his finger.”

He struggles to get up, but this time Tommy holds him back.

“Leave it,” he says, looking at the ring.

It’s just a simple, brass-colored keyring, but at the same time, it’s way more. As Evan had said: it was a promise. A promise did not necessarily have to come true, but it was still something to cling to. Something to look forward to.

“Fine, we can do it tomorrow,” Evan slurs, just before he leans against Tommy - to fall asleep on his shoulder.

“Let's do it tomorrow. Or maybe I'll keep it,” Tommy whispers into Evan's curls.

#thank you for that prompt nonny!#BuckTommy #Buck x Tommy #bucktommy fanfic #my fics #tevan #kinley #911 fanfiction

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 years ago

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Flirts

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: Your cousin's two friends are definitely flirting with you

You meet them at a party - although calling it a party is a bit of a stretch.

You meet them at a get-together. You let yourself into your house with your key and hang your jacket up on your hook, grabbing Patri's up from where she had thrown it on the floor and placing it on a hook as well.

You toe off your shoes and ignore the chatter from the living room in favour of grabbing a drink. You sigh deeply when you see the dishes in the sink.

"Patricia!" You yell," I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don't care if you're friends are here, but I need these dishes cleaned up tonight."

You can hear your cousin swear at the use of her name as well as quiet giggling from her teammates.

You linger in the doorway, arms crossed over your purple scrubs. "I mean it," You say firmly," They've been in the sink since last night."

"Yeah, Patri," Pina teases, nudging her with a foot," Go and clean up after yourself."

You roll your eyes. "You can help, Pina," You say," Seeing as I know you ate my leftovers last night."

The pair both huff but do as you say. Your eyes rove over the assembled football players. You recognise a few of them personally but some from only when you've seen them on tv.

They watch you in silence, some of them wide-eyed.

"How is Nala?"

Alexia's face lights up. "She is good. Better now that her fur has grown back!"

You let out a laugh. "Well, if she hadn't gotten gallstones then I wouldn't have had to shave her." You glance down at your phone, checking your calendar. "I'm still seeing her next week, right? To get her stitches removed?"

"Si," Alexia says," Gracias, y/n, for having her seen so quickly."

You shrug. "Well, when there's a dog as cute as Nala getting them seen quick is my first priority."

Alexia beams at you before saying to the rest of the group," This is Patri's cousin. She's a vet, the one that saved Nala. y/n, this is Ona, Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid. They all play for Barca."

"Of course," You roll your eyes," It's nice to meet you all." You move to leave but one of the girls on the sofa catches your wrist - Mapi, you think.

Her eyes shine with something you're not familiar with as she exchanges a look with Ingrid, whose lap she is sitting in. "You cannot stay?"

You glance at the clock, not exactly sure why you're entertaining this girl who's clearly in a relationship. "I have a surgery tomorrow."

Her girlfriend moves her head to look at you. "What kind of surgery?"

It's like they both knew how to draw you in, ready and incredibly willing to listen to you talk about the pulmonary stenosis you were correcting tomorrow.

At some point in the conversation, Mapi and Ingrid had separated, moving to different ends of the sofa until you were sandwiched between them. As you spoke, detailing the work you did as one of the few cardiothoracic veterinary specialists in Spain, Mapi's hand came to rest on your thigh and Ingrid propped her head up on her arm and used her hand to gently brush your hair out of your face.

Madre Mia.

They were flirting with you.

●～●～●～●～

You thought it was a one-night occurrence, the innocent flirting and the affectionate touches. You thought that they would remain Patri's teammates who you would occasionally see at games and far away from your actual life out of your cousin's spotlight.

But they start appearing everywhere.

Sometimes together.

Sometimes alone.

Ingrid at your favourite coffee place.

Mapi hanging around the park near your house.

Both of them 'bumping into you' while shopping.

It gets progressively more and more until your day is ruined by not seeing or hearing from them. It's completely seamless the way that they've inserted themselves into your lives.

You're sitting in the crowd at El Clásico when you start to realise that this might be a bit more serious than you originally thought.

You're introduced to Jana, Bruna and Frido as Alexia approaches, extremely happy to announce that Nala is much better than before.

"Oh, I know who you are," Frido replies," Mapi and Ingrid won't shut up about you. You're the vet."

You're a bit confused that Mapi and Ingrid have been talking about you to Frido, even more embarrassed when she reveals that you're all they ever talk about now - the fact that you've made it rich as a cardiothoracic specialist but still helped Nala with her gallbladder despite it making you little to no money compared to your usual work, the fact that you know all the secret backroads and hole in the wall shops around the city.

Everything and anything you've even mentioned in passing to them has been reported to Frido, who laughs slightly at your shell-shocked face.

"They're obsessed with you," She says," And I know for a fact that Patri's been helping them bump into you. You know, Mapi said that she was worried about asking Patri for your number."

Your cheeks colour. You hadn't realised that you meant so much to the couple, who seamlessly brought you into their orbit without even thinking much about it, seducing you into their lives with sweet words and soft touches.

Your mouth opens and closes for probably the whole of the match and it's not until you're let onto the field to congratulate your cousin and Pina, that you finally manage to gather your thoughts.

Mapi crashes into your back at speed, nearly bowling you over but Ingrid's already there, ready to catch you. You're pushed into her front and, with Mapi at your back, you're held hostage between them as they speak to you.

You don't exactly want to escape them though, content and happy between them.

"Bah!" Mapi complains when she pulls away and spies your Patri shirt. "Do you have to wear that?"

You laugh in disbelief as Ingrid moves to settle her arm around your shoulder while Mapi threads your fingers together. "She's my cousin. I think she would be upset if I didn't. Besides, what was I meant to wear up in the Barca box? White for Madrid?"

Both of them make a face.

"Or mine," Mapi says with a silly grin and a blown-out look in her eyes as if she's imagining it," Or Ingrid's. Actually, definitely Ingrid's. You'd look hot in her shirt."

Your cheeks flush - a regular occurrence when you're with the pair of them.

"I think yours," Ingrid replies," She would look equally as good in it." She winks at you. "But I wouldn't be opposed to you wearing mine either."

Your cheeks grow hotter and you bury your head in Ingrid's chest to try and hide your blush.

Mapi doesn't let you though. Her fingers capture your chin and she pulls you to face her. Ingrid rests her own chin on your shoulder and her hands go around your waist, securing you in place.

"Don't look away, amor," Mapi says and her voice drops to some form of purr that you're too busy overthinking to put a proper name to," We like to see when we make you all pretty and red."

"It's our favourite thing about you," Ingrid whispers in your ear and you have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying out in public," How you react when we hold you close and don't let go."

●～●～●～●～

You hide out in your house after that interaction, pacing up and down the halls like you're crazy, which completely freaks Patri out.

All those times, you had thought that it was a harmless game to them, flirting with you, buying you gifts, taking you out on things that we're most definitely dates now that you think about. You thought it was just them spicing up their relationship with each other, spoiling you to make the other jealous so they could go home and have epic sex - you almost shut down completely when you think about how good Mapi and Ingrid would be in bed.

But, clearly, your growing crush had been mutual and that's enough to make you go into a complete tailspin.

You don't see them for a few days anyway - travelling to Valencia to perform an open heart surgery on some philanthropist's poor dog. When you come home, it's with a very welcome stowaway.

"No," Patri gasps as she says you stroll in with Honey in your arms.

It turns out your new client (who also was so thankful for you saving his eldest dog's life) had gifted you one of the newest from his Shiba Inu's litter.

She was undoubtedly small, practically a runt but you fell in love with her the moment she climbed into your lap as you took a refreshment break after surgery and licked your nose.

"Si," You say to Patri, who is already taking pictures," Her name's Honey."

Patri's friends all end up coming over, cooing over Honey who takes it so well that you've got no worries about her socialisation.

That's when you next see Mapi and Ingrid.

Mapi walks up behind you, arm automatically around your waist. "You look good as a mama," She says as you both watch Alexia coo over your puppy," She'll be in great hands."

You grin. "Safest hands in Spain," You joke, lifting them up," If you go by my lack of complications after surgery."

Mapi rests one of her hands against your palm. Hers are bigger than yours, and rougher from days of lifting weights and doing pull-ups in the gym. Yours are softer by comparison, used to precision needlework and lightly holding a scalpel to make the tiniest of incisions.

"You have nice hands," She says after a moment and she watches your face redden. She leans in. "I wonder what else they're good at."

You catch the implication and an embarrassing squeak slips from your lips. Mapi grins like a wolf and pulls away, hand dropping but keeping an arm around your waist, pulling you into her body.

Ingrid appears in the next moment. She shares a tender kiss with Mapi and winks at you as they pull away.

"Motherhood suits you," She says, her accent causes something to stir within you," You're glowing."

You fix your eyes on Honey, who's running around trying to see who will give her treats next. "It's not like I was pregnant," You try to defend yourself but from the corner of your eye, Ingrid peels away from Mapi to join you at your other side. Her arm closes around your shoulder, fingers drawing patterns on the exposed skin of your arm.

"Hmm," She says dismissively of your statement," How was the surgery? Good? Seeing as you came home with a cutie like Honey."

"Rich guys are generally annoying but this one was pretty cool. He has a lot of animals but he cares deeply for them all." You frown. "I think he's keeping me on a retainer now. I didn't think you could do that for vets, just lawyers."

"You clearly seduced him, amor," Mapi says," You're good like that, getting people to fall for you."

Ingrid's tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Yes, she's very good at that."

●～●～●～●～

It all comes to a head just two weeks after El Clásico.

You've left Honey at a friend's house and Patri's dragged you out to a club with some of her friends.

You're completely sober though, Patri's only way home, but you still end up dancing.

Somewhere along the night, Mapi and Ingrid (equally as sober) join you.

You're sandwiched between them again - Ingrid at your back and Mapi at your front.

Ingrid's hands are on your waist so even if you wanted to fall out of their orbit, you can't.

Your dancing gets more and more sensual as time goes on until you catch Mapi's eyes.

She's grinning like she usually is when you're caught in Ingrid's grip - like a wolf. It happens in slow motion for you.

She leans forward, ever so slightly and your heart beats erratically in your chest. Your lips connect and fireworks go off in your brain. You move on instinct, kissing back and the guilt appears only as she pulls away.

Your eyes widen in alarm and you dart them towards Ingrid, an apology already on your tongue.

You had a crush on both of them, that's true, but kissing Mapi in front of her girlfriend was crossing a line that you shouldn't have crossed.

But Ingrid's grinning down at you and steals a kiss as well, flicking her tongue into your mouth with ease. Her hands move up to your face, leaving Mapi to hold onto your hips.

Your knees feel a little weak when she pulls away.

"You were right," Ingrid says to Mapi although her eyes are still on you," She does taste good."

The implications of that makes your heart skip a beat. They've been talking about you together, about how you react to them, about how you taste.

"You're so dense, amor," Mapi says to you as recognition of every interaction you've had with them suddenly starts to make perfect sense," So book smart, the best vet in the country but so dense. We've been flirting with you for months now."

"Since we saw you that night at Patri's," Ingrid continues," We just knew we had to have you." All those dates. All those little gifts." Her hand comes to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder. "We're gonna treat you so well, elskling. You just have to say yes."

"Gonna make you our girlfriend," Mapi says as open-mouthed kisses are pressed against the other side of your neck," Gonna take you home with us tonight, if you'll let us. Just say yes."

You don't even have to think about it.

"Yes."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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subwillsolace · 1 month ago

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okay hiiii my loves......my mood swings have been truly insane the last few days so i havent written much.........but here is a little treat to show u what i have been working on (see if u can guess 👀) and what i am planning to have finished by tomorrow <3

He busies himself with checking Nico's bandages to avoid his soft look, batting his gentle hands away. But Nico is persistent, and Will is -- tired, too tired to have the energy to shove him away a second time. Plus it has been two weeks so Will is -- well, Nico is kind of alright he guesses. He has cool hands anyway. And Will is hot.

"I asked you to do one job," he says, when Nico's hands get a little too comfortable in his hair. "And what did you do?"

Nico opens his lying mouth. Will slaps him on the thigh, bulldozing over his wounded pout.

"You fought werewolves again. By yourself. Yeah, that's right." He huffs at Nico's guilty look. "That's right, I can tell. I put a tracker on you. Chew on that."

Nico smiles and Will knows that he does not believe him but joke's on him, isn't it. Will huffs again and pulls the tray he assembled earlier so it is right under Nico's chin, propping up his cot so he can sit up. He is careful to move slowly, careful not to jostle his stomach. He is too focused on the bandages around his middle to watch Nico's smile get soft. It is carefully hidden behind a proper mask of contrite apology by the time he looks up again, holding a paper cup carefully between two fingers.

"It's not unicorn draught, you prick, because people who bleed out on my favorite rug do not deserve accelerated healing. You get nectar." Will falters a little. "It might be nice, anyway. You've probably been eating -- I dunno. Squirrel or some shit. That or McDonalds for twelve days. Dumbass."

The look in Nico's eyes tells him he's right and the gentle hand that lingers on his as Nico takes the cup helps him calm. He's not -- that mad. Really. Well, he is, because he had the one job, but he did in fact manage not to die. Will lets his shoulders sag, lets his next sigh come out softer.

He brushes Nico's dark hair back as he fits the straw in his mouth, lingering over the dried blood splattered on the underside of his jaw. Will hasn't had much of a chance to wipe the blood all off him, and it seems no one else has remembered. He is scraping off a droplet of it as Nico swallows, as he pauses.

"Taste okay?"

#i feel like i am clinically insane like the switchups ive been having are buck wild #hormones are No Joke #but anyways

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bookloover35 · 2 months ago

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The Dice Of Destiny- Eddie Munson x fem reader.

Eddie Munson had never been big on birthdays. Growing up, his celebrations had always been lackluster, often overshadowed by family drama or just getting lost in the chaos of his life. But this year? This year felt different. This year, there was you.

He still couldn't believe it. You, the sweet, smart, and effortlessly cool girl who had somehow found your way into his chaotic, metal-head heart. You'd become his world, and when his birthday rolled around, he was more excited about spending the day with you than anything else.

The night before, Eddie had been up late in the garage, assembling the Dungeons & Dragons campaign he'd been working on for weeks. His long hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and his usual black band tee was replaced by an oversized flannel, sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos. He was hunched over his campaign notes, muttering to himself when you walked in.

"Hey, nerd," you said, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin.

Eddie looked up, his eyes lighting up. "Hey, sweetheart. What's up?"

You grinned and walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the table. "Just thought I'd remind you that there's something special about tomorrow," you teased.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

With a soft laugh, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "It's your birthday, you goof."

Eddie smiled, but the happiness didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm not much for birthdays," he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

You softened, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "Well, I am," you said with a wink. "And I've got something for you."

Eddie blinked in surprise. "You didn't have to get me anything, really—"

"I know," you interrupted with a smile. "But I wanted to."

You stood up, disappearing into the other room for a moment before returning with a small, wrapped box in your hands. Eddie's eyes widened. "You got me something?" He sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued.

"Open it," you said, handing him the box.

Eddie carefully peeled off the paper, a look of confusion mixing with excitement on his face as he opened the box. Inside, nestled in black tissue paper, were a set of dice. But not just any dice. These were special. Dark, with intricate skull engravings on each one, their edges smooth but sharp like something out of an ancient tomb. The skulls seemed to glow faintly under the dim light of the garage, as if they held some sort of hidden power.

Eddie picked them up, his jaw dropping. "These... these are... amazing."

You chuckled, watching him closely. "I thought you'd like them. I know you've been talking about needing new dice for your campaign, and I thought these would be perfect for the Hellfire Club's next adventure."

He was silent for a moment, turning the dice over in his hands like they were treasures from a forgotten era. Finally, he looked up at you, his face full of awe.

"Y/N... these are incredible," he said, his voice full of wonder. "I've never seen anything like them. How did you even—?"

You smiled softly, shrugging a little. "I have my ways. Plus, I know how much D&D means to you, Eddie. And I just wanted to give you something that felt... right."

Eddie set the dice down gently on the table and pulled you into a tight hug. "This is the best gift I've ever gotten, no joke," he muttered against your hair. "You know me so well."

You grinned and pulled back to look him in the eyes. "I'm glad you like it."

Eddie cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he gave you a soft smile. "You're the best thing in my life, you know that? Best birthday ever."

You blushed, your heart swelling with happiness. "I'm glad you think so, Eddie. I'll make sure this birthday is one you'll never forget."

That night, the two of you stayed up late, rolling the new dice on the table, making plans for your next D&D session with the Hellfire Club. Eddie's eyes never left you, a grin never leaving his face as he told you story after story, each one more ridiculous than the last.

The dice in his hand clinked against each other as he set them down. The skulls seemed to glimmer with an almost eerie light as if they, too, were part of a larger story. And in that moment, Eddie Munson knew that, for once, everything was exactly as it should be.

He had you, and that was more than enough.

#wattpad #wattpadstories #wattpad story #my own words #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n

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yuurivoice · 2 months ago

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A few quick update notes because idk where to conveniently post all of this publicly.

Still mowing through Cameos. I'm about 1/5 of the way through them. Will be working late tonight and tomorrow.

Charlie 4/20 & Bunny Finn Easter probably not happening, or coming later than intended because I've been fighting my brain and body the past week and shit just is not happening on time.

I'm trying to work around scheduled downtime in the coming days as my current booth needs to be disassembled and the new big boy booth is assembled on Thursday. Trying to receive a big ass shipment has also proven complicated, so that's fun!

Other shit still in the pipeline, but maybe there'll be one thing scheduled in the coming days that we can scream about.

Anywho, hell of a time for my shit to go off the rails, this is why I don't like taking commissions at all, even if they're simple...because life happens and I don't like keeping people waiting when my brain and body are so unreliable sometimes.

Most people were able to follow the rules, and those who didn't haven't gone so far out of bounds that I needed to outright reject any of the Cameos, but it definitely does add to the amount of thinking required. The entire reason I went the Cameo message route is because I can pretty easily just see a two sentence prompt and improvise an in-character message covering that subject while keeping it fresh and unique to each character. I literally had someone use the same prompt for three characters and surprise, I could easily give them all a unique vibe without it sounding too similar...hell yeah.

It has largely been a good, fun experience, I just struggle with the sheer mass of all of them (there's 70+ now) and next time I may have to limit the amount of them if there's any hope for me to actually keep turnaround times manageable.

That's a lot of words for what probably sounds like the opposite of a problem (it is a very good problem to have, obviously) but I just wanted folks to know I'm not slapping these on a printing press and churning them out, or reusing sound bytes for similar prompts, etc. Each one is unique and I try to keep a fresh slate in my brain when I tackle them to avoid two people getting a thing that is too similar.

So while yeah, those quick turnaround times were REALLY AMBITIOUS AND UNREALISTIC lol the slower time allows me to do my best and make sure people get a real genuine take out of the character. If I sat down for six hours and did as many as I could, I think by the third hour I would find myself struggling to avoid saying the same shit again and again because many people want similar things. The biggest one, comfort. Because shit is scary and times are hard and a lot of folks feel like they're fighting and fighting and fighting and don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. So I don't want to just...have a bunch of talking points delivered the same way a dozen times within an hour. I want to give y'all something better than that, at least.

Again, the Cameos were an experiment, so I expected some hiccups along the way. It hasn't been bad at all, and it really is nice to be able to give people the exact thing they need to hear at the moment. There's just a lot of it!

Whew. Big yap. Enough procrastination. Thanks for your patience!

#yuurivoice

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pankowcrumbs · 3 months ago

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Bookshelf X Tom Hardy

MasterList

The floor was littered with wooden planks, a pile of discarded instructions, and at least six screws that I was pretty sure weren’t supposed to be left over. My arms ached, my head pounded, and my vision blurred slightly as frustration built up in my chest.

It was meant to be simple. The man in the Ikea video had done it in less than fifteen minutes with a smug grin and no swearing.

Meanwhile, I’d been at it for two bloody hours.

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. My breath hitched as I sniffled, wiping furiously at my face.

This was ridiculous.

I shouldn’t be crying over a bookshelf.

But it wasn’t just the stupid bookshelf, was it?

It was the exhaustion of the past few months. The quiet flat. The missing warmth beside me in bed. The late-night calls that never lasted long enough. The way I had counted down the days for Tom to come home, desperate for things to feel normal again.

He wasn’t even meant to be home until tomorrow. I’d wanted this done before then a little surprise, something small but meaningful. A reminder that I could handle things on my own.

Except I couldn’t.

And now I was on the floor, legs folded awkwardly beneath me, staring at a half-assembled bookshelf like it had personally wronged me.

I let out a shuddering breath, rubbing at my tired eyes. "Stupid. Stupid shelf."

"That’s not a very nice thing to say about the poor thing, love."

I froze.

The voice was low and familiar, tinged with amusement and something softer beneath it.

Slowly, I turned my head towards the doorway.

And there he was.

Tom.

Dressed in worn jeans and a grey hoodie, hair tousled from travel, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His tired eyes met mine, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

My own lips parted in surprise. "You’re home?"

He dropped his bag by the door, stepping closer. "Yeah, sweetheart. Got an earlier flight." His smile faltered slightly as his gaze flickered over me. "Didn’t expect to come home to you crying on the floor, though."

I hastily wiped at my face, sniffling. "I’m not crying."

He arched an eyebrow. "No?"

I huffed, gesturing at the disaster in front of me. "I was just… struggling."

A slow, amused smirk tugged at his lips. "With a bookshelf?"

"Don’t you dare laugh at me, Hardy," I warned, pointing at him. "It’s deceptively complicated."

His smirk softened as he crouched down in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees. "I’d never laugh at you, love."

I sniffed, hugging my knees to my chest. "I just… I wanted to have it done before you got home. You weren’t supposed to be here yet."

Tom’s brows knitted together. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to prove I could do it on my own," I admitted quietly.

He studied me for a long moment before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "Sweetheart, you don’t have to do everything on your own."

I frowned. "I know that, but—"

"No ‘but’s," he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. "I love that you’re stubborn, but you never have to prove anything to me."

His voice was gentle, coaxing, full of warmth. It unravelled something tight in my chest.

My throat felt thick. "I just missed you," I whispered.

Tom exhaled softly, shifting closer until his arms were around me, pulling me into his chest. "Come here, love."

I melted against him instantly, my fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he pressed a kiss to my hair. His scent warm, familiar, home filled my senses, and I felt myself relax for the first time in weeks.

"I missed you too," he murmured, rubbing a soothing hand down my back. "So much."

We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, breathing each other in.

Then, finally, he pulled back just enough to tilt my chin up with his fingers. "Now, tell me the truth," he said, voice teasing. "Did you even look at the instructions?"

I huffed. "Of course I did. They’re just vague."

He glanced at the crumpled booklet beside us. "Vague, huh?"

"Very."

His lips twitched. "Or maybe you just need a bit of help."

I pursed my lips, reluctant to admit defeat. "…Maybe."

Tom grinned, pressing a kiss to my forehead before moving back slightly. "Alright, love. Let’s do it together, yeah?"

I sighed dramatically, as if the idea hadn’t already lifted a weight off my shoulders. "Fine."

He smirked, rolling up his sleeves. "Right. Let’s see what we’re working with."

With Tom now in charge of deciphering the vague instructions, the process became significantly less painful. He sat cross-legged beside me, fitting pieces together effortlessly while I handed him screws and tried not to feel too smug about his struggling with one particularly stubborn panel.

"Why is this not clicking in?" he muttered, furrowing his brow.

I smirked. "Oh? Struggling, are we?"

He shot me a look. "Careful, love. I can still make you do this on your own."

I grinned. "You wouldn’t."

"Wouldn’t I?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he finally got the panel into place.

"Alright, alright, you win this round."

I beamed, passing him another screw. "You were gone for months, Tom. I think I deserve more than one round."

He glanced at me, something softer flickering in his gaze. "I hate being away from you, you know."

I swallowed, my heart flipping. "Then stop doing films in the middle of nowhere."

He chuckled. "Believe me, if I could, I would."

I studied him as he worked, noticing the exhaustion in the lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders still held tension.

"You should be resting," I murmured.

Tom glanced up, smiling softly. "Nah. This is nice."

My heart warmed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmured, reaching over to squeeze my knee. "Just being here with you."

Something about the way he said it made my chest ache in the best way.

I placed my hand over his, squeezing gently. "I love you."

He stilled for a fraction of a second, then his whole face softened. "I love you too, sweetheart."

My heart swelled, and for the first time in weeks, I felt at peace.

With Tom’s help, the bookshelf was finally finished. We stepped back to admire our work, both grinning with satisfaction.

"Look at that," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Perfectly constructed."

I smiled up at him. "Thanks to you."

He hummed. "Thanks to us."

I rolled my eyes. "Now you’re just trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

"…A little."

Tom chuckled, pulling me against his chest. "Good."

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, the flat finally feeling full again.

Then, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, Tom murmured, "Next time, love, maybe leave the DIY to me, yeah?"

I huffed, but my lips twitched. "Fine. But only if you promise to never leave for that long again."

He exhaled softly, holding me tighter. "Deal."

And just like that, everything was right again.

#fanfiction #reader #x reader #one shot #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x oc #tom hardy x reader #hardy #tom x reader #tom #tom hardy

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forgingtheblade · 7 months ago

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TECHNOBLADE BASE OUTFIT—SHIRT!

WOO YEAH SHIRT TIME let’s all play nice and pretend i didnt make this in like august. thanks

the process was ultimately pretty similar to the pants, just with less dyeing! i drafted a pattern using a tutorial for a bishop sleeve shape on youtube to design the ruffled sleeve, and stitched a half mock-up.

then came assembly which happened in parts due to a fabric quantity snafu… after it was assembled, i added in hand-stitched eyelets for the laces.

the dye job here wasn’t so much an intentional dye job as it was a byproduct of something i needed for another step—tannins. tannins react with iron to create a dark brownish color on fabric, which is a reaction i used on both the shirt and the pants! on the pants, i used straight up iron, while the shirt utilizes a mud dyeing technique from Mali. a fermented mud slurry is watered down and used as a paint effectively, and when let dry entirely and rinsed off it leaves a dark color behind where the mud was applied!

the actual design i used here is a technoblade quote—“one day we’ll look back on where we started, and be amazed by how far we’ve come,” translated into my friend @corpseofsuturedseams’s PIGLIN CONLANG which is FUCKING AWESOME, and then written out in the script it designed to go along with the language!!

ultimately, i didn’t quite let the mud dry completely enough when I went to wash it off and it bled a little, but I really don’t hate the effect that has. I’m super happy with the design as a whole, and with that, the base outfit was done!

next up is the stuff i made for my second critique this semester, which is where things start getting really exciting in my opinion—the head and ‘paws’!!! keep an eye out for those write ups soon*

*soon in the mcyter sense. could mean tomorrow. could mean two months from now. i’ll catch up eventually. maybe.

#info #cosplay #sewing #technoblade #dsmp #ctechno

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xbomboi · 1 year ago

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yapping about Briar. fellow Briar enjoyers assemble.

okay okay i don’t make it too obvious (or maybe i do, i wouldn’t know) but briar is my personal favorite character. i think about where the stories of all the characters would go and what their arcs would be a lot, but hers in particular is really important to me.

so i wanna talk about it.

first of all, she’s narcoleptic coded, right. we all know that. but her mom on the other hand reads to me, like, an alcoholic mother? and her dad is just willfully ignorant. either way, there’s a huge sense of neglect going on in that family. i mean go figure why briar would be the one doing most of the work raising her brothers. and of course she’s a party girl, because who’s gonna stop her? her parents? see yeah exactly.

so i don’t think it’s unreasonable to say she doesn’t have very strong parental figures in her life, at least not at home. but, and now you have to really hear me out about this one, i think baba yaga could take up a parental role in her life.

i know it isn’t much, but the seeds for her having at least a hint of a connection with baba yaga are there.

in the webisode “Stark Raven Mad”, baba yaga scolds briar for rambling about her party, and then as the commotion picks up she’s still exercising authority over briar in particular.

then there’s thronecoming, wherein, when briar is sulking at the dance, upon noticing the picture on the projector, she asks baba yaga for answers, who provides them.

and then skipping all the way to epic winter, after the girls become a little creeped out by her mannerisms and book it, briar is the one who makes sure to peak back in and give a parting remark.

so i think there’s potential there to be explored. her feeling neglected at home and then finding solace in another adult at school would be neat.

but the fact that it’s baba yaga is important, so just put a pin in that and we’ll circle back to it.

now, i think out of the core four, she was (at least at first) the hardest to actually pin-point what the future of her story could look like. with raven, i think it’s pretty clear her journey is just continuing to combat the prejudices of the world as she fights for change, apple is now pretty much on a path to figuring out her own future as ruler of a kingdom and what that’s going to entail, and maddie is the goofball that’s there to have fun and be supportive along the way.

then there’s briar. and, let me be clear, no, in my mind that girl is not sleeping for 100 years with where things are heading; in the main universe of the story, briar will be free of the sleeping beauty destiny.

but it’s like, if she’s not gonna sleep, what more is there to actually do with her? what direction COULD her life go in? because if she’s no longer fated to sleep 100 years of her life away, then she can’t just party like there’s no tomorrow anymore. she’d need to decide what she actually wants to do with her life.

and i think i have an idea.

i mentioned her narcoleptic coding at the start with intent to bring it up again. see, you might notice that a lot of the fairytale aspects of ever after high can be read as allegories for real-world problems. for example, hunter and ashlynn’s relationship is treated in their world the same way society may look at queer couples or biracial couples. or how raven’s mom being trapped in a mirror is their world equivalent to not paying child support.

with that kind of correlation in mind, i think treating briar’s curse as a condition could open up an interesting opportunity. i think, in their world, curses as a whole could be viewed as a separate branch of medical specialization, with briar spearheading this notion of thought.

we know briar is well-versed in chemythstry already. in the webisode “Briar’s Study Party” she makes note of the fact that she’s been studying forever-after, and she demonstrates enough knowledge in the subject to enthusiastically teach it to her friends, who all end up acing their tests on it as a result.

i think this is something she could potentially make a career out of. i think she could come to the conclusion that she wants to be able to help break curses for people everywhere, and could pursue learning to develop potions and elixirs to do so.

which could happen under baba yaga’s tutelage.

picture this: briar declares her newfound goal, to which baba yaga offers to teach briar all she knows in order to achieve what she’s set her sights on. briar—with an ounce of hesitance—accepts, and baba yaga officially takes her under her wing with the intent of mastering sorcery.

obviously, she wouldn’t lose who she is in this. she’s still gonna be an impulsive, adrenaline junkie who desperately needs a screentime limit on her mirrorphone. but in this process, she’d be rounded out by baba yaga and would in turn mature a bit from the experience. she’d get serious about life, but she wouldn’t let go of who she is at heart.

this could lead to her becoming the resourceful one in the main group. like on adventures, she’d be able to pull out a potion or whip something up (because i’m not going to let raven’s magic make her too o.p. she’s gotta have limitations) as a solution to problems. she could really have a role that proves useful and important to the story.

that’s my ideal pitch for where to take briar’s character.

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haruka-norikoyo · 1 year ago

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Monoma x reader who’s Mirio’s younger sibling Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not much romance in this part, mostly focused on the brother sibling dynamic of Mirio and reader. But I do have a third part ready to go! Well, that one’s not centered around reader and Monoma’s relationship either… nor was the first part, now that I think of it..?

Part 2/?

* * *

��Everyone listen up! Form an orderly line and promptly make your way to school grounds!” Iida announces despite being the only one not in the line as Sero calls him out for. “…the dilemma of a class rep…”

You yawn, stretching your arms over your head. You stop right before your classroom, seeing Neito leaning against the wall by the lockers. Your face lights up upon seeing him, casting a bright smile at his direction, which he returns lovingly. Not for long, though, as Kaminari nears.

“I heard! Class A!” His sweet smile disappears, replaced by the demeaning sneer your classmates know him for. He dramatically projects his voice like he’s in a play. “Two people! Two people didn’t pass the provincial licensing exam in your class!” “It’s class B’s Monoma!” Sero exclaims as if Neito is a surprise boss of an RPG dungeon.

Kaminari backs away slightly, paling at the very sight of him. “…He’s as crazy as usual.”

You sigh with an exasperated smile. Ah… all my friends think my boyfriend’s insane… You wonder what their reactions will be, once the cat’s out of the bag. Mina in particular, who has a vague inkling that you’re dating someone— you swear, she can smell romance anywhere— would flip the moment she finds out.

Kirishima steps in, smiling in friendly challenge. “I bet you’re the only one in your class who didn’t pass, huh? Like with the final?”

Neito continues cackling, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Which is it?!”

Ah… he’s so cute… You feel like walking up to him and squishing his cheeks, but you compose yourself. You can’t just steal his moment by giving in. Though your expression makes it obvious that you’re having cuteness aggression. It’s a wonder how no one put two and two together with the amount of times this happens.

“We…” Neito waits for the rest of his classmates to show up for dramatic effect. With his usual flair, he turns, smiling triumphantly. “…all passed! We’ve pulled ahead of you, class A.”

Todoroki apologizes with a gloomy aura. While Kirishima attempts to cheer him up, Tsunotori walks up to greet everyone.

“According to Vlad teacher, we will all be having same classes this semester. I’m looking forward to it!”

You beam. Ah, that means I’d be able to have classes with Neito..! You turn to look at him to convey your excitement, but he isn’t looking, much to your disappointment. He’s too busy whispering something to Tsunotori to notice your annoyed gaze.

She nods, and looks back at Kirishima and Kaminari saying, “Touch me, and I’ll pummel ya till your mama don’t know ya!” much to the boys’ concern.

Hm? I feel like I’ve heard that phrase before. Like, specifically… You think about where you’ve heard it as Kendo knocks out Neito, cutting his manic laughter off.

Your classes are blocking the way for other students, so Iida immediately herds your class back into a single file line to make your way to the assembly.

***

“Say, I heard from Midnight-sensei that the rooftop’s sometimes open after school hours. Wanna check if it’s open today?” Neito asks.

Among the crowd of everyone that attends UA, you were able to slip away from the line Iida was hoping the class would make. Now, you walk side by side with Monoma among the second years and third years, away from the eyes of your classmates.

“Ah, sorry. I can’t today. I have plans with my brother, you see. Wanna do it tomorrow?”

“Oh, ah, mm… your brother… Y-Yeah, we can do it tomorrow…”

You tilt your head in confusion as Neito averts his eyes, now walking all stiff. “What?”

“What what?”

“What’s got you all nervous?”

“Hah, please, I’m not nervous,” he shrugs, visibly shaking.

You scoff, chopping your hand over his head. He always complain about it giving him PTSD from the amount of times Kendo would do that, but he doesn’t say a word now. “Do you know how long we’ve known each other? Don’t act like I’m stupid.”

“Wha— I’m not! You’re the most intelligent person I know and you’re—”

“So what’s got you nervous?”

You lean into him, and he leans back. You scrutinize his tense smile. It’s as if someone is holding him at gunpoint. This isn’t like him at all.

“(Y/n)-chan!” a cheerful voice calls out.

“Ah, would you look at that! Your classmates. I would love to walk all the way with you, but it seems they have come to part us once again, my dearest.”

“Neito, that’s not my classmates—” He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before promptly speeding away like a deer who just spotted a lion, leaving you dumbfounded in the crowd of second and third years. “…what the hell was that?” you wonder aloud, your hand reaching up to your cheek with a small blush.

“(Y/n)-chan!” the cheerful voice calls out again, making her way towards you. “It’s been a while..!”

You snap out of your confusion, smiling as Hado jumps up and hugs you. “Hado-senpai, hi.”

“Hey hey, you know—” She asks you questions left and right about was said at the assembly. What you thought of All Might retiring, the work study, and about the problem children rumored to be in your class. Behind her followed Tamaki and your brother. “Hado… don’t bombard them with questions like that…” Tamaki meekly says, causing her to huff and hug you tighter.

“Oof…” you wiggle yourself so that your not suffocating in Hado’s embrace, smiling at the boys. “Tamaki-senpai. Nii-chan.”

They both offer you a wave.

“Hey (y/n), how’re the dorms?” your brother asks.

“Tis great. Bakugo and Midoriya ended up fighting, though. Which honestly, doesn’t surprise me too much…”

Hado finally releases her grip on you, allowing you to breathe properly. She’s strong as hell, you know? “Aha! So it is students from your class who’re the problem children! I was right!” “Don’t sound so happy about it…”

“Ooh! And and— were you walking with someone just now? I thought I saw someone leave. Oh, but you’re really far away from the first years, why’re you all the way over here?”

“Yeah (y/n), tell us,” Mirio leans in. His smile is the same as ever, but there’s something menacing to it at the moment… You grimace. You had been purposefully vague about details of your dating situation with them, considering Mirio’s history with boys that have a crush on you. “Well, I mentioned having a boyfriend, right?”

Hado nods. “Mhm! The super secret one that you refuse to tell us about!” She huffs, still salty that you hadn’t told her after all this time.

“Well, actually, he goes to UA too. I was with him just now,” you shrug. Hopefully if you act casual about it, they’d be casual too. “Haha, romancing in school grounds, (y/n)? What scandalous behavior.” Mirio seems to have mellowed out quite a bit though, once he started attending UA. He can’t exactly be a hero while sneaking around at night to scare kids just cause they have a crush on his little sibling, can he? …right?

Still, you grumble at his teasing. “Scandalous? We were just walking beside each other.” “Ah! But since you’re all the way over here… Don’t tell me he’s a second year? Or no, third year? Ah, is it someone we know?!”

“That’s all I’m gonna say, Hado-senpai…”

“No fair!”

“It’s not our business, you know..?”

“Oh come on Tamaki, I know you wanna know too!”

“I mean, as long as he makes (y/n) happy, right?”

You huff, “I’ll be heading to class…”

“Oh, yeah sure. We should probably be going too. See ya, (y/n)-chan!”

***

Three days later, Aizawa speaks to class 1-A about the work study, stating that there will be guests who have experienced it first hand that’ll teach you about it.

“The big three!” the class echoes what Aizawa had said.

“The students who are closest to being pros…”

“Ah, (y/n), heyo.”

“(Y/n)-chan, surprise..!”

You blink as two of the three wave at you, Tamaki being filled with too much anxiety to greet you. “Nii-chan, you could’ve told me you guys were coming.”

“NII-CHAN?!!!???”

As it happens, your brother and his friends are the ones to do so. Now, you’re always happy to spend time with your older brother, however…

“Come on (y/n), I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Jiro says as the class walks to the gym. “We have the whole class jumping him. We’re not small fries, you know?”

You grimace, already feeling your stomach hurt. And you haven’t even started! “You don’t get it. We’re gonna die.”

“Don’t say that (y/n)! You’re making me nervous!” Hagakure exclaims.

“You should be.”

“That guy’s your brother, right? I’m sure he won’t go too hard on you,” Tokoyami says like the only child he is. One would’ve thought Dark Shadow would be like a sort of sibling to him, but you suppose it isn’t the same since that’s his quirk.

“Yeah, he’ll try to hold back, but he doesn’t know how to.”

Your classmates around you shake their heads, chalking it up to any usual sibling thing. But they have not been through the horrors of training with Mirio, no. This is but a glimpse.

Jiro, who had been the most dismissive of your terrified mutterings, screams as Mirio’s clothes slip off. She was promptly knocked out like the rest of the long ranged fighters. But he also decided to tie her back to back with Kaminari with her own earphone jacks as if flashing her wasn’t enough.

…your brother’s a psychopath. And now he turns to you, crumpling your classmates at his wake. “Pleheeheese. Stop slowly walking like thaaaat…” You cry out, backing away bit by bit.

“Come on, (y/n)! Show some spirit! You’re in the hero course now!”

“I wanna drop OUUUUUTTTTTT!!!!!”

Of course, he’s chanting motivational messages to you as he steps closer to your demise. Kirishima uses this as an opening to lunge at him while distracted, but he immediately gets knocked out. While your friend gets the life punched out of him, you charge in. For the split second, you’re out of Mirio’s view. You’re close enough to power your quirk—

“Using your classmate as a sacrifice? That’s mean, (y/n).”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S MEA— ACK!” Your whole body shoots back as Mirio’s fist connect with your stomach.

“POWER!!!!” he yells, voice booming through the gym of your fallen comrades.

He basically emotes over your body— sprawled on the gym floor with your soul seeping out of your mouth.

***

You’re still curled up into a ball when his footsteps approach you. “…I hate you.”

“I love you too my flesh and blood, now get up,” Mirio says enthusiastically, picking you up by the collar like some kind of cat. He turns to the rest of your classmates. “I tried to make it so you won’t see my willy. Sorry if you got a peek.”

“A ‘peek’ you say. Jiro was violated.” Begrudgingly, you stand on your shaky feet among the rest of your classmates, whom are the same condition. He gave a hero like speech on what it took to make his quirk noteworthy, and what it’ll be like in the work study compared to the interns. You won’t be guests this time, you’ll be treated like real sidekicks. Your classmates found it inspirational while you’re still grumbling in pain. “You’ll be going now?” you ask, as Mirio, Hado, and Tamaki move to the gym door. “Yep. We were invited to go to class 1-B too.”

You smile wryly. Will Neito be okay? Mirio was able to hold back on your class, but there’s still a chance that he’ll get carried away now that he’s not worried about hurting you. Then again, it’s not like he knows he’s your boyfriend, it’ll probably be fine.

“Well, we’ll be off now. See ya later alligator.”

Tamaki smiles and waves at you.

“Bye (y/n)-chan! Mirio’s gonna pummel some more kids till their mama don’t know ‘em!”

“You make it sound bad. I held back, didn’t I?”

You chuckle at their fading conversation, waving at them until they left the gym. You stand there for a moment before heading back to your classmates. “That was pretty valuable information, but my stomach still hurts…” Jiro complains. It took a few minutes to untangle her earphone jacks from Kaminari earlier. “…and so do my ears.”

You look at her apologetically. “Yeah, nii-chan’s sometimes got a twisted sense of humor.”

“I feel bad that class B will face him next.”

Mina pipes in. “You think he’ll really pummel them till their mama don’t know ‘em?”

“What’s with people saying that phrase..?”

That phrase… Yeah, that’s right, you did hear it from Mirio at one point. It’s pretty gruesome, but not exactly out of character for him to be out of pocket. And it’s the same thing Neito taught his American classmate to say. You stand there as your friends chatter.

Wait.

The same thing as Neito?

No way, right?

There was that time when Neito seemed terrified at the mention of your brother a few days ago too.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. If being in the hero course has taught you anything, it’s to trust your gut.

“AH!” you shriek, causing your surrounding classmates to jump.

“W-Woah! What is it Togata?!”

“(Y/n)! You scared me.”

“He’s gonna kill him!!!” you spare no time for explanation, bolting it to Aizawa. “Sensei!!! Sensei, please, can you excuse me from class?! It’s an emergency! An emergency!” Aizawa’s eye twitches at the ruckus you’re making, but he can’t afford to simply brush it off. “What? What’re you talking about?” You’re stressing him out.

“I’ll be back!”

“What?! Togata, explain—”

“No time!”

And you were out the door.

“…can someone tell me what’s going on?” Aizawa looks around at the class, who were as dumbfounded as their teacher. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Everyone, head back to class. I’ll go see what’s happening…”

#my hero academia #monoma neito #monoma x reader #bnha monoma #mha monoma #mirio togata #bnha mirio #x reader #class 1b #class 1a #mha #bnha #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #y/n #Fluff

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