#working. and i didn't even successfully do that for two of them

[goldensunset]

been trying to find a way to word this for a while but. in my opinion (aka this is just me rambling so don't fight me) a principle of really good writing is mastering the art of narrative threats, and what you actually want them to mean. if you put your characters in danger, you gotta ask yourself- do i want the audience to be merely curious, or actually afraid?

curious- it’s obvious that the storyteller is almost certainly not going to deliver on this threat. of course the main character in this children’s show will not die halfway through season one. of course they’re going to get that important thing back. the story wouldn’t work otherwise. so the question becomes not what, but how? is our hero going to successfully convince their enemy to change their mind? perhaps the shy side character is going to suddenly show a side of themselves they never have before and come up with a brilliant plan?

'fake' danger like this falls flat when the writer is trying so hard to legitimately get you scared but any observant viewer with an understanding of solid narrative structure knows a tragedy wouldn't work here. this type of situation is best executed as less like a threat and more like author and audience watching the scene together going oooh i can’t wait to see them get out of this somehow! like idk. it doesn't have to be about fear it can be about fun or tension or epicness! it's gonna be so cool to see them solve this puzzle and get out of this trap!

afraid- the storyteller very well could deliver on this threat! it would make perfect narrative sense for this important secondary character to die during this season finale, it would make it so much more fascinating to lose the thing everyone's hope was riding on here, it would be thematically fitting if these guys could never go home, etc. and the story as a whole has been serious enough- whether outright or implied- for a tragedy like this to fit in. so you get people going oh snap this could very well happen the danger is absolutely real.

imo it's best when you don't make it too obvious- it really could go one way or another. they might get out of that scrape fine but also if they didn't we can still imagine a working story. when the audience can foresee two different possible narrative directions and both are equally compelling and satisfying in their own way, and they therefore don't have a clue which way it could go? that's the good stuff. that's when the crazy anxiety and tension starts

(obvious disclaimer that you have free will etc etc you can do whatever you want in stories, including delivering on seemingly weak threats to catch the audience off guard. but that's shock factor. which is something different from what i mean by a threat, or rising tension. but you have to really really know what you’re doing if you go for that, otherwise it feels frustrating and unsatisfying

like from my own experience. if a character gets killed off at a weird time it's so offputting that i will be distracted just waiting for the part where they magically come back, just waiting for the story to make sense. and whether it comes or not, it's hard for me to pay anything that's actually happening at that point. unless what happens then is the story appropriately dealing with the emotional aftermath. so like if you don't give people time to prepare at least give them time to heal)

the reason i like say all this is that a well done threat is what's going to evoke the most emotion out of me. if a character is actively dying i am going to shed the most tears if i am willing to believe they will actually die and stay dead. or even if they do come back, that the writing is good enough for this event to still have material or psychological consequences for the foreseeable future. if all hope seems lost in a narratively appropriate moment i can feel the weight of everything on me just as much as the characters do. otherwise it's like hmmm so melodramatic but we all know where this is going nowhere so it feels cheap. i love serious emotions and danger but you have to use all that correctly or else it weakens itself!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[tunneldweller]

#I need everyone who wants to push independent really think about this #Yes Biden sucks #Yes he doesn't fulfill many of his promises #But #One man will load the deck with right wing judges who want me (and probably you too) dead and/or with no rights #There's a chain reaction to who is presidency #And we can't let some alt right fascist freak like. Continue to put judges in place that just mow down rights and are fully corrupt?? #Yes the two party system sucks #Yes it needs change #But we gotta prevent an inevitable disaster before we can actually fix shit

[nightingale-prompts]

The Nightingale Family-DC x DP prompt

(Shameless Addams family inspired prompt)

News travels fast in Gotham, especially in affluent circles. A new family has arrived in the city, old money at that. They had taken up residents in the old mansion overlooking the Historic Gotham Graveyard.

The Nightingales had a way of letting their presence be known. They were rarely seen in public. The eldest Jasmine Nightingale however had made waves working at the Gotham Asylum as a psychologist. She was often escorted by her younger brother Dan Nightingale. The public really started talking when Jazz was seen talking with Harley Quinn.

There were two children that lived in the Nightingale manor. They were elusive to say the least as the family didn't attend the parties of Gotham.

It wasn't until Damian Wayne got an invite from his classmate Danielle to visit their manor that someone saw the lives of Nightingales. This invite had been received after Damian carefully befriended the youngest Nightingale to investigate their connections.

That's how the Waynes ended up at a dinner party.

The manor was bleak to say the least and that's saying something in Gotham. The buildingbwas made from black stones and gargoyles perched on the roof. The garden was wilted and full of thrones that crept up the walls.

Bruce felt a sense of Deja vu as he approached the door and rang the bell. Tower bells rang out as the face of Jasmine Nightingale appeared. She was dressed in black dress pants and blazer. Her lips were painted to match. Her red hair had a striking white streak through it which had become a fashion trend since the family's arrival to girls wanting to seem mysterious.

"Good Evening. It is so nice to meet the infamous Waynes." She shook Bruce's hand. Behind her, the sounds of clanking metal was heard. "That is just my younger siblings playing. You don't you boys join while I talk to your father.

Despite only being a fresh-faced 20 year old Jazz carried herself like a confident adult. A certified genius in psychology who graduated early she also handled the inmates at the Asylum well enough that escapes are at an all time low.

"She's got it all" was what Harley said.

Bruce's admiration of the young lady was only matched by his suspicion. The house the Nightingales lived y had once belonged to the Al Ghouls. There was no telling yet if there was a connection.

He took a seat in the living room with Jazz tea already prepared. She poured two cups of black tea. Not black as in the type of tea but the color of the drink. Bruce cautiously sniffed the black liquid, it smelled earthy and acidic. Poison.

"Do you like it? I made it myself. I added the belladonna myself. It has a sweet taste so you don't need sugar. The kids have sweet tooths but we avoid added sugars. They love nightshade." She smiled drinking.

Bruce put the cup down. So they drink poison at a young age. They must be part of The League of Assassins. But why are they here?

"If you don't mind me asking. Why did you move to Gotham? Your parents-" Jazz put a hand up as she finished her cup.

"Mr. Wayne I'm sure you are no stranger to parents leaving before their time nor the concept that not all parents deserve children. Now I can't confirm or deny if that is the case for use but you can understand that it's a private matter." Jazz said sternly.

That wasn't an answer.

Upstairs Danny and Danielle played with Elle's new toys. Swords from Dan's trip to Portugal. He even sharpened them. They were currently tearing through the mansion.

Tim and Damian caught them while Danny had successfully pinned Elle to the ground.

"Dami! Help!" Elle yelled catching Danny off guard as Damian tackled Danny to the ground.

"Alright, alright. You can go next." Danny rolling Damian off him and passing him the sword. "Im taking a break."

Danny loved playing with his little sister but baby games are tiring.

"They let you play with swords," Tim exclaimed. This wasn't something he expected, sure it was normal for Damian but Damian is weird and was raised by assassins. Damian didn't do it for fun, it was training.

Damian and Danielle ran off while fencing.

"You must be one of the Waynes. Elle has been excited to have your brother over." Danny said politely if not a bit dismissive.

"Eh, yeah. Your sister said we should join you." Tim said a bit awkward. " You have another brother right?"

"Oh, yeah. He travels alot but he's relaxing right now. He's probably swimming." Danny shrugged.

Tim had heard of Danny. They went to the same school but Danny was part of a program that allowed him to come to school when he felt like it. The program is for young engineers who want to work for Wayne Industries. He mostly worked on small experimental projects. So far Danny's superconductor tech was revolutionary but impossible to replicate. Danny somehow managed to make a more effective coolant than anything they had created in the lab.

"You have a pool?" Tim knew that the mansion didn't have a pool.

"Of water? No." Danny shrugged but gave no further answer.

"I see, so what do you do?" Tim tried to sound normal like he was talking to his friends and not someone he was trying to probe.

"Anything, everything. I was going to recalibrate my telescope but I have a laser to test." Danny walked off expecting Tim to follow.

Testing was just cut a bunch of things in half. Tim got some great info on making an explosive ice canister and foam bombs. Tim made sure to get his number to hire him to make some gear for him.

The Nightingale kids were absolutely lawless. They destroyed everything in their path.

Elle had dragged Damian to her room to show off her toys. She used to travel with Dan until she started school. She picked up a bunch of items. Cult artifacts, shrunken heads, voodoo dolls, cursed puppets, knives, swords, and the homemade taxidermy Elle made from roadkill. She also had a pet dodo bird named Ernesto who had a bed next to her bed. Ernesto took a liking to Damian and sat on his head. The way he shows his affection

Soon enough Dan came upstairs to check on Elle and Danny.

"You kids, need to get ready for dinner. Sharpen your nails and teeth." He said before going back to the kitchen.

"What does that mean?" Damian asked.

"You don't sharpen your nails. Well good luck at dinner." Elle said bemused.

Dinner was...horrifying. Watching the family chat happily as they ripped apart the moving food as it came to life. Damian was actually excited as he skewered the cheese and broccoli casserole that screamed at him.

"Father, why can't we do this at our home?" He asked.

[lay-z]

Simon Riley appreciates a healthy routine.

Neither Gaz nor Soap can quite tell what is stranger their Lieutenant declining to go for a pint after touching ground back on base or the sight of him furiously typing away on the cracked screen of his phone since they got some proper cell service.

They keep sitting in their respective seats on the plane, quietly observing Ghost and Captain Price for the past hours like they're some nearly extinct animals they shouldn't dare to startle; trying to gauge the latter's reaction, though that hint of a knowing smile barely hidden behind a coarse beard is only confusing them more.

It's as if Price has found the answer to a riddle that his Sergeants aren't even fully aware of.

Almost immediately, they lose sight of the sneaky Lieutenant as soon as the plane lands on the tarmac and once the tired soldiers receive permission to sign out for a long weekend after spending the last eight weeks deployed, travelling places no one else wants to go.

And of course, the lads think that Ghost has simply had enough of their bullshite, that the naturally aloof man is feeling too agitated and overwhelmed to linger, even though the mission was finished successfully. Perhaps he made arrangements with some working lady to get it out of his system (Soap's words, "Who else would the bloody geezer be textin' to, eh?"), or perhaps he's already being called in for a single op by Laswell.

They don't see the signs their Captain has picked up on a while ago when it comes to the closed-off Lieutenant.

The hushed phone conversations behind a closed office door, the more frequent rummaging for a phone that he usually didn't spare a glance at for hours on end, a spring in his step after suddenly spending more weekends off base, eating homemade biscuits from a Tupperware box that surely isn't his while doing his paperwork, pushing himself harder at the gym with a kind of natural energy that comes with higher testosterone levels, humming on his way back from a terrible training session with a squadron of rookies.

Yes, the signs are all quite obvious to a happily married man like John Price, because he remembers the honeymoon phase with his wife in the beginning of their relationship all too well.

Meanwhile, Simon manages the one hour long drive from base to your flat downtown in 37 minutes, and he takes the fact that he got caught speeding in stride. And what if he loses his driver's license? He's broken much worse laws in his lifetime than driving without legal documents.

The spare key to your home that you've gifted him with, feels heavier than all his tac gear combined as it rests in his jeans pocket heavy with meaning and responsibility, a reminder that he's found a new purpose in his life.

He sheds and leaves his gear and dirty fatigues in his truck, and he takes three steps at once as he rushes upstairs to your flat with single-minded focus, excitement and adrenaline equally coursing through his veins as if he's about to seize a hostile target by himself.

The familiar front door closes behind him with a soft click, and then he's greeted by peace and quiet.

Instead of finding fear or annoyance, Simon is met by raw happiness and adoration as he watches your eyes light up once you notice his presence all curled up and cozy on your couch.

"Hi!"

His socked feet make no noise as he approaches you over the carpeted floor.

"I didn't expect you for another hour," you tell him, even though he very well remembers what time he'd told you he'd arrive, though he had added two hours to that time frame just so he wouldn't disappoint you if he didn't make it.

"Your dinner is ah!"

Simon picks you up with practiced ease, and your little shriek of surprise dissolves in a fit of melodic giggles. Bulky arms wrap around your body and cradle you to his chest bridal style as he carries you towards the bedroom with simmering urgency.

The words he mumbles as explanation come out gruff and harsh, oafish even, but you can't help and feel utterly smitten by them: "Bed. Now."

You're dropped onto the mattress without warning, and the way you laugh again makes Simon's chest hurt with how hard his bloody heart flutters.

And then you're already reaching out for him right when he joins you, mattress dipping beneath his added weight as he drapes himself over the full length of your body; slotting his meaty thigh between your legs until he can lay down more comfortably on top of you like a weighted blanket.

"Can you rub my shoulders? Please?"

His voice is muffled as he nuzzles his flushed face in the crook of your neck. Sometimes, it still feels forbidden to ask for something so mundane from the person he would die for.

"Yeah, sure. Can I take off your mask?"

You can carve out his heart with a butter knife if you'd like, but he chooses to keep that to himself for now while the fact that you're asking for his consent again makes his head feel fuzzy and his arms tighten around your warm, welcoming frame reflexively.

Simon nods. "Aye, take it off f'me."

The cloth is gently removed when he manages to lift his head up before letting it drop back into the crook of your neck, and then your fingers card through his short, disheveled strands of dirty blonde hair; blunt nails scratching lightly at his skull until a full-body shudder runs along his spine.

It's heavenly.

It's more than he ever wanted and everything he never even dared to wish for.

It's a routine he's managed to build up with you from scratch.

Strangers to lovers, and he will never let you go now that he's sunken his sharpened claws into your willing flesh.

Yet he is but a tamed kitten in your tender embrace. Just a man enjoying and craving the simplest and purest form of affection right in this moment, stripped bare from his demons as you keep them off his back with your sheer, golden presence.

"You're safe now, Si. I missed you so much, baby," you coo into his ear, and his brain fills with cotton while he noses along your pulse point, breathing in your calming scent.

Then he feels the gentle press of your lips against his temple while your warm palms stroke and rub along his back, and he melts into a vulnerable puddle, exhausted eyes finally fluttering shut.

"Missed ya, too, pet," he murmurs gruffly, chapped lips brushing over your sensitive skin. "M'not gonna move f'a while, yeah?"

And Simon barely registers your answer when he's already drifting off into a dreamless slumber, allowing himself to cling to your body like a needy child while soaking up the warmth and comfort you're giving him oh so willingly.

He's home.

[writersdrug]

My brain is open to your bartender Ghost thoughts

Give me them all 🙏

Lordy this au isn't even an hour old and I have so many thoughts

He doesn't really know what to expect when you come in the morning after the interview. At eight am sharp, he watches as you trudge inside, wearing ripped tights, shorts, knock off combat boots, and a baggy shirt that's messily tucked into your waistline. It looks like you had put on eye liner last night and gone to bed, black lines smudged in a perfect "bedhead" look.

"Really?" He asks, arms folded and muscles buddging. "Come t' the interview in a skirt 'n dress shirt, n' show up t' the first shift lookin' like a wannabe biker chick?"

You scoff, pulling your hair up into a bun. "Didn't realize I'd be walking into the asscrack of "The Devil Wears Prada"..."

He huffs and shakes his head. You hve tough skin - good.

He had Soap come in early that day - poor man usually worked between 4 pm 'til whenever Ghost decided to close. He's still rubbing his eyes and yawning when a pen and spiral notepad are shoved into your hands, Simon pushing you towards towards the cook's table with a hand on your back.

"Hey, welcome to the 141." You say, no attempt at politeness in your tone. Ghost huffs fondly, appreciating how you cut through the bullshit. "Any appetizers today?"

"None o' that keech," Soap says, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his brow. "Canna have a rusty nail 'n th' smash grunded, wel doon 'n with the bun scud - cannae stand th' aoli. Chips oan the side."

You stare at him, eyes wide in disbelief, before turning to Ghost. "Do they all sound like that?"

He grunts. "If they're drunk."

"Are you drunk?" You ask Soap.

"Feck if I know, tryin' tae figure it oot myself." He groans.

Ghost helps you decipher the words Soap had vomited out. You successfully punch it into the POS, only needing a few pointers from the giant over your shoulder. For the rest of the morning amd afternoon, he taeaches you which button on the soda gun was which, the difference between tonic water and club soda, how to run the industrial sanitizer - with a "ye best make sure that shite is rinsed 'fore ye stick em in there" from Soap - where the new kegs go when Gaz brings them in, where to find napkins and condiments in the walkin, how to cut fruit for the bar, and lastly, how to split your tips.

"But why do I have to pay you?" You ask Ghost, sitting at a table with your calculator app on your phone and a basket of fries between the two of you. "You make loads of tips just pouring liquor."

He chuckles, watching you pop a fry into your mouth. "'N you get a cut of sales from the kitchen, since you're part of it."

You perk up at that. "I do?"

"Seven percent." He confirms. "A decent payout on weekends."

"And Soap doesn't get tips."

"Johnny boy gets paid by th' hour."

"I don't?"

"If ya do well enough, ya won't have to." He says, resting his meaty forearms on the table. "You'll be walkin' out with hundreds."

You chew your lip nervously; Simon's eyes linger on the movement, shifting his weight - the polyester seat creaks beneath him as he observes you fretting silently, the silence only broken by the sound of Soap prepping in the kitchen. "Don' worry too much 'bout it. You're young - jus' keep a smile on 'n you'll be fine. Soap 'n I got your back tonight, but I'm not pickin' up your slack after the week passes."

The fry you're steering towards your mouth falls to the table as Simon stands up. "Tonight?!" You exclaim, shimmying out of the booth.

"Yep. Sixteen hundred."

You glance at your phone. "That's in an hour!" There are kegs stacked by the front door, unpolished and enrolled silverware on the bar top, and half of the chairs are still stacked on the countertops.

"Best get to work then, hmm?" Ghost says, grabbing a container of lemons and moving behind the bar.

[sourle]

What if killer reader were visibly in pain after the whole transformation into a killer, as in limping or using their dominant arm less or somthing

Reader IS in pain. Mentally.

Though i think Taph's the one who felt the most guilt.

Watching you getting stunned by either Chance, Guest, Shedletsky, or Two time while screeching in pain. You're already hurt, but with the add on stunned you're hurting a lot worse.

When he's low and is at your mercy, he tries to comfort you. Holding you close, STILL trying to get sense into you.

I talk A LOT about Taph, let's get the other survival, shall we?

Injuries

I kiss the scar on her skin

WARNINGS: DESCRIPTION OF INJURIES, GORE(?), BLOOD, ETC.

Note:

Noob

They felt guilty

They think one of the reasons you become like that is because of them. Which is true.

Noob felt bad whenever you screech or whine in pain.

He tried to reassure you once.. didn't end well.

Elliot

He felt slightly guilty

Whenever you whine or screech in pain he holds the urge to throw his pizza at you. To try and heal you.

He regrets never healing you, maybe if he did you'll be alright.

Even so he relatively moves on from it quicker than the others.

Shedletsky

He felt bit guilty

He held back whenever stunning you, hearing you screech in pain and whine makes him do so.

He's the second to be quick on moving on.

He kept the doodle you made of him at all times

He tried reasoning with you. Didn't end well.

Builderman

He knows this will happen, he knows it's coming.

He moves on quickly and he has no remorse about your pain.

Call him heartless yes but he did try to reason with you.

Sometimes plan for Taph to distract you half of the round or use him to get to your sense.

Though if you show you have no interest in reasoning, he'll focus on helping the others survive.

Dusekkar

A little birdie told him it's gonna happen. Sooner or later.

He's the one comforting Taph in his grief the most.

He too grief about you. Though not as much as Taph.

Whenever you wail in pain or cry out he's the second to be brave enough and comfort you.

He almost successfully convinced you to stop in one round but thanks to Shedletsky thinking we're about to attack Dusekkar.. yeah.

(idk what else mb soups)

Two time

The spawn warned them about it.

They're not surprised, they become more manic thinking the others might also turn like you.

They would stare whenever you wail in pain after they backstabbed you. You remind them of someone dear that they hurt.

Chance

He would instantly sword to never use his gun on you again.

They felt bad, even worse when he's the main reason you switched up.

They shouldn't have left you, they should've helped you. Maybe then you would still be the same.

He did apologize once, he was spared with only 1 hp left.

They don't know if that is a forgive or not.

Guest 1337

He tried to ignore it.

He's quick to move on from you transforming into a killer.

Whenever you cry or wail he would pause, and held back to charge or punch you for a bit.

Only a bit though if he thinks you're dangerously close to killing someone he has no choice but to stun you.

Taph

Full on crashing out whenever you cry

He doesn't have the heart to hear you wail in pain

The moment you let out a sob he will appear and hug you

Bro fr gives you a Taph bean, he does not explain where he got it.

007n7

He felt bad and guilty, even as he's not in the round.

He wished he was, to help you.

The third to be brave enough to comfort you, he tried. He did but sometimes it doesn't work.

It almost once. Thanks to Builderman's turret nearby. Yeah, you can guess no one survived.

Note: urhrhuh KillerYFAT!Reader needs a hug

[miyukisu]

I Might Bite .ᐟ

❤︎ | Resorting to dirty measures like biting your superior during sparring usually doesn't end without you having a taste of your own medicine... (2.6k wc) ╰ feat. Hoshina Soshiro (Kn8) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 2 | kinktober masterlist

tags - subordinate! reader, biting, marking, spanking, pussy slaps, humiliation & punishment, Hoshina's kinda mean, fingering, p in v, creampies, swearing

minors do not interact

The recent uptick of kaiju attacks over the city has every member of the JAKDF on edge. No one knows when the next attack is coming or if they'll live to see their next birthday. The atmosphere in the Tachikawa base specifically felt odd. Most were hopeless, but then there was you.

You weren't the strongest by any means, but you believed that if it came to being persistent—you'd be the best. It showed; after all, you trained your ass off even in your off hours.

There were times you bled and shed a tear, but you never stopped. Your fellow officers often told you to slow down. But there was one person who always watched from the sidelines—silently observing how you improved every night that you would sneak away into the training rooms.

It was none other than your superior, Hoshina Soshiro.

The vice captain didn't seem all too interested to be invested in the lives of the officers. Frankly, he had better things to do. But the rookie that worked themselves to the bone had successfully caught his eye. There was something about them that reminded him of himself. In many ways, he was drawn to that fiery spirit.

Not a lot of recruits had your determination and he was more than willing to foster that. What kind of vice captain would he be if he didn't help you in honing your skills?

────────────

You stared, dumbfounded, at the fox eyed man in front of you.

"Ya heard me right the first time," he insisted.

You gulp down. "Well... I'm certainly not going to refuse your offer, sir. I was just making sure I understood what you said."

"I told ya—I'll help ya train every night. I meant it."

Finding out that your superior knew you have been violating the curfew had you expecting the worst. But Hoshina's reaction was rather unforeseen.

Instead of making you run laps or do cleaning duty—he offered to train with you during your night sessions. It made sense; training with someone better than you would allow you to improve at faster speeds. The choice was a no-brainer.

"Alright... thank you, sir."

Hoshina simply nodded before walking away from you, satisfied that you were cooperative with his ideas.

"Sir!"

He turns around with a small smile. "Yes?"

"When do we start?"

"Have ya skipped a day before?"

"...No, not really."

His smile widens. "Ya have yer answer then."

────────────

Labored breaths filled the training room—though, most of it came from you. Hoshina barely broke a sweat throughout your entire sparring session. It wasn't shocking anymore at this point.

You estimate that it's already about two weeks since he has started joining you in your training. Not once have you won against him.

At first, it felt quite motivating—knowing that you had so much to improve. But as days go by, it becomes depressing how you can never even land a good hit on him.

You weren't fit to face a kaiju with how things stand and it crushed your once blazing spirits.

With your chest heaving and your vision blurring, you continued to anticipate his next move. You figured he'd at least cut you some slack after seeing the massive difference in skill, but he was merciless. You didn't even fight back as he tackled you to the ground.

Hoshina Soshiro wasn't just talented with a blade, but also with his bare hands. Who would have thought he knew grappling as well? He easily put you in a rear naked choke and you felt your airway quickly constrict.

He taught you that if you couldn't even handle basic hand-to-hand combat—then you'd be nothing doing anything else. Besides, before ending your session with the usual bare knuckled fighting, he trained you with swords and other weapons... in which you couldn't beat him in either.

Going up against him was futile. You absorbed his teachings like a sponge, but when it came to applying them—all hope is lost.

You were going to pass out soon; you could feel it.

Despite telling yourself that you'd always fight fair and square—you realized that this wasn't the time to be righteous. Virtues, principles—whatever the fuck it is—chucked out the window.

You bit down on his arm—hard. Did you draw blood? Perhaps. But that hardly mattered to you. He finally let go, failing to defeat you completely. Hoshina hissed, checking out the fresh wound you gave him.

Neither could you move or speak. In fact, you kept your back leaning on his chest. Doing anything other than breathing was a bit too much at the moment.

"Ya play dirty, don'cha?" he whispered darkly into your ear.

The thickness and intimidation laced in his voice was enough to reinvigorate your entire being. You took the deepest breath possible before peeling yourself off of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course ya didn't mean ta do that, right?" he cuts you off, lifting you off of the ground with his impressive strength.

"What shall I ever do with ya? Li'l thing bitin' her superior."

You could only stutter out a pathetic apology as he carries you in his arms.

"Nah, don'cha apologize now. Ya must be sick of me treatin' ya like a ragdoll hm?"

He was right, of course. But you weren't about to admit that to him.

Hoshina carried you over to the side of the room where the long metal bench was. Even out of fighting, he continued to treat you like a doll with the way you effortlessly flipped you over. Your stomach pressed against his lap with one of his hands resting on your nape.

You weren't sure where his other hand was, but you soon found out... the hard way.

A sharp slap made its way to your ass. It had you sucking in more air than usual.

"Not even a single yelp huh? Think ya can handle more? Ya need to be punished after all."

Another slap and then another on the other cheek. Tears were starting to brim in your eyes. With the next slap, you finally yelped in pain. Hearing your sharp breaths, he caressed your poor behind in a soothing manner.

"Think ya've repented enough?"

God, you didn't want to sound weak, but a few sniffles escaped you. His question racked your brain, yet not a single good answer came for it. It was a trap and he was steadily luring you in.

You figured—silence was the best response. However, that pissed off the vice captain even more. Hoshina let out a long and deep sigh. He didn't want to do this; he swears. But you just had to push his buttons.

"Not speakin' huh? How many times will ya disrespect yer superior after I've been kind enough ta be trainin' ya every night?"

If you've learned one thing about him these past few sessions—it was that he never gave you time to react. Only now, you're discovering that it applies to things apart from fighting as well.

He slid you off his lap without warning. Soon as you flipped yourself over, the vice captain was already hovering over you with a stern expression on his face.

He inched closer, slowly but steadily. His eyes never left yours and it seemed to have you in a trance because you failed to realize how he had already caged you between his thick arms.

"Sir..." you managed to say between shaky breaths.

"So you can speak?"

Your eyes finally stray from his face, feeling flustered by the proximity.

"Ya should use that mouth of yers fer talkin' —not fer bitin' ," he said. He leaned in to the point that you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck. It was tantalizing—almost paralyzing. "I think ya should get a taste of yer own medicine," he added.

No time was given to protest as he sunk his sharp teeth into your neck. You gasp, hands finding purchase on his arms. He suckled on the tender skin, sure to leave a mark that you'd have to cover up in the morning.

Then another bite came. Your fingers dug into his flesh. It was painful, but oddly arousing. The intoxicating scent he radiated coupled with his fine looks were a recipe for disaster. But the only one being ruined was you.

Perhaps he felt satisfied after two bites, settling on wet kisses scattered on your neck instead. He kept getting lower and lower until he was met with a barrier.

"Lemme get this out of the way, a'ight?" he says before gripping the soft fabric of your black tanktop—ripping it apart. He smirked at the sight, a flimsy lacey bra.

He pushed it up before smashing his face down on your chest, sucking and lightly biting at a sensitive bud. Your hands went from his biceps to his hair, almost pulling out the strands from the roots.

He bit, tugged, and marked you all over again—like he was staking claim. Hoshina made sure to give attention to the other one as well, sucking on the swell of your breast while using his fingers to toy with the other.

Truth be told, he was too excited and immersed in devouring you that he only now became aware of your sounds. It was delightful to say the least. It made him smile as he nipped at the sensitive flesh.

You began to arch your back, needing more of him. But he took this as a sign to go even lower, planting more kisses that trailed down your stomach. He was giving you whiplash with the alternating softness and harshness of his touch.

He looked up at you and saw your dazed expression, unable to even look back at him. This was fine; this was the only time he'd permit a subordinate not looking him in the eye.

For once, you were able to catch your breath and make sense of it all. You returned your gaze to the man above you. He was hovering over you again, looking down with a feral glare. His large hand gripped your thigh.

"Ya know... fer someone bein' disciplined... ya sure look like yer enjoyin' this."

"I'm not," you retorted. But both of you knew the truth.

"Ya challengin' me? Let's see then, shall we?"

He made quick work of the zipper on your pants before pulling it down and throwing it off to God knows where. His eyes opened slightly, zeroing on the damp patch on your panties. Of course, he was right.

"Would ya look at that—yer pussy's all soaked from that. How naughty."

"I... I... um..."

He huffed. "Ya what?"

Slap. He had slapped your pussy. The stinging sensation had you arching your back off of the cold metallic surface of the bench. A soft groan fell from your lips.

He landed another slap. "Look at how wet ya are right now. Ya shouldn't have lied huh?"

As if to soothe you again, he began rubbing his thumb over your poor cunt. "Didn't mean ta make her cry."

Hoshina smirked at his own joke—because who else would appreciate it? Definitely not you; you were too fucked out to even catch everything that he's saying.

He hooked a finger in the gusset before pulling your panties out of the way. The sight of your dripping cunt made his dick twitch. He had already been especially frustrated this week and the cute little subordinate he trained every night wasn't helping. Her little stunt was essentially the final nail in the coffin.

There was nothing else he wanted more but to fuck you senseless already. But he was a refined man; he had patience.

Hoshina pushed in two digits at first and it almost made him shudder with how tight and warm you were. Patience be damned; he was crumbling all too quickly for his liking.

"Fuck... yer suckin' it in."

A string of soft moans left you. It was music to his ears and he wanted it to be louder.

He began fucking his fingers into you at a faster pace. The muscles of his arm tensed and the veins on his forearm were popping out. A loud and vulgar moan reverberated through the training room. You could only hope that everyone in the base was asleep because there was no way you could be quiet with what he's doing to you.

You tightened around his fingers before unravelling completely. Your pussy fluttered, cumming on to his fingers shamelessly. It almost felt like a task to him—only getting it out of the way to get to the main event.

Hoshina pulled out his fingers, sucking them clean. He would have loved to get a taste of it on his tongue, but all restraint had been lost. He had to sheath himself in you or else he'd actually lose it.

"Take a deep breath for me, a'ight?" he says while unzipping his pants, only barely pulling out his leaking cock from its confines.

Maybe you should have listened because the sudden intrusion of his cock knocked the air out of your lungs. It filled you up nicely, hitting every spot with just one fluid motion.

He groans, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His fingers were practically white with how hard he gripped the bench supporting the both of you.

"Coulda fought me with this instead. Maybe ya coulda won," he teased. He began slowly fucking into you, perhaps a reprieve after his previous actions.

Your hands held on to his back, softly digging your nails into the chiseled flesh. A satisfied groan poured from his smiling lips.

The string of moans coming from you urged him to go faster. He had enough of being slow and soft. He snapped his hips at a maddening pace almost immediately. Your leg fell of the bench, hanging off and allowing him deeper access into you.

He never faltered for a second—even as he leaned down to leave marks on your neck again. You held him closer to you as if you never wanted him to leave... and he wasn't; at least, not until you've cum all over his cock.

His ragged breaths filled your ear as he continued to rut into you. Hoshina was tough, ruthless, and precise—much like on the battlefield.

A familiar clench squeezed his dick. "Ya close? Ya gonna cum on my cock? C'mon, do it," he goaded.

His thumb began circling your swollen clit. After holding on to the cold bench for a while, his touch felt freezing. The warmth you felt inside contrasted with the cold touch of his thumb. The sensation was almost numbing with how good it felt.

"Wanna cum with me? How romantic of ya," he teased again. "Fuck... I'm cummin' —take it all. This is still part of yer punishment. Got that?"

You responded with a breathless moan. That was all it took before hot ropes of cum filled you. The warmth seemed to push you over the edge as well, milking him for all he's worth. And like he said—it would be romantic. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Ya learned yer lesson yet?" he asked, but not before capturing your wet lips in a kiss.

Hoshina let a shaky breath out as he pulled away. He knew it would be good, but he wasn't expecting for it to be this good.

"Shit... was only plannin' one round. Guess it wouldn't hurt ta discipline ya more."

He lazily rubbed his still hard cock. "C'mon, get on all fours fer me and I might not make ya run laps in morning's training." He watched intently as you followed, lining up his dick against your entrance. It was going to be a long night.

"Good fuckin' girl."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note slightly longer I guess because I like Hoshina more lol

[erwinsvow]

we need more moment where shy!reader was studying and practicing new things to show rafe!! ik that girl is so kinky and it’s always the shy girls <33

YESS omg i srsly love that drabble when i reread it im like she was cookin.. i feel like shes the type to try to prep herself with a dildo bc she can never take all of rafe but imagine he found it n was like ?!!?

really—your boyfriend was too big. it was excessive, and though you could never find the words to tell him to stop or slow down—mostly because you didn't want him to—he always did anyways.

no matter how much you insisted that you could take all of him, rafe didn't like to listen. so you were stuck in a conundrum, and your choices were either lying to your boyfriend that it didn't hurt or accepting the fact that he'll never be as rough with you as you want.

you were willing to sit down and accept a lot of things without a fight—but this was not one of them.

one discreetly wrapped delivery later, you had yourself your very own rafe-sized dildo—a pretty pink color and of such a size that it had your insides churning with anticipation. about half an hour later with the use of some lube and lots of work, you were successfully able to fit about three-fourths. it wasn't perfect, yet, but it was a work in progress.

you didn't want to overdo it and end up insanely sore either, and you were beginning to realize even half was enough to have you cumming over and over again. so much so that you almost forgot about the date you had planned with rafe for that night—scrambling to get up and get ready.

that night, after a nice date and way too much ice cream, you realized you were too fucked out from your afternoon activity to go for another round for rafe. it was no big deal—except it happened the next day. then the day after that. and the one after that.

you had mastered the rafe-sized dildo, and you could take the entire thing after week of practice. but it also meant that it had been a full week without your boyfriend fucking you—something that hadn't happened since you had lost your virginity to him.

a little too clueless around rafe like always, you hadn't realized anything was wrong. rafe was on edge—pent up and unable to keep taking out his frustration on the golf course after almost breaking one of his clubs—but you didn't really notice.

you were waiting for tonight, after another date to show him your new-found skills, but of course, he didn't know that.

getting ready in your bathroom, blasting music and doing your makeup, you don't even hear the door open to your bedroom. rafe came to get you early, knowing you would need more time but way too antsy to wait alone in his car.

he sits on your bed, listening to the muffled music from behind the closed door. he's not impatient with you and hardly ever like this, but the current situation had left him more desperate to see you than usual.

leaning against your headboard, he feels something under your pillow. lifting it to move whatever it was—knowing you, the book you had been reading last night—his jaw clenches when he sees it. a dildo. not just any dildo—a huge dildo. under your pillow like you'd just been using it or something.

the pillow stays in his hand but he has an overwhelming urge to chuck it across the room. was this the reason the two of you hadn't had sex in a week? were you finding pleasure from some stupid toy instead of him?

"rafe?" you ask, stepping out of the bathroom and staring at the scene in front of you with big eyes. you're distractingly pretty everyday but even more so today with a short skirt and done-up face for the date he's not sure if he'll be taking you on.

your face burns with humiliation—stupidly realizing you hadn't put the damn thing away after last night. rafe is looking at you and then looking back at your bed, his fist tight around your pillow.

"um, i-"

"do you wanna explain? i'll give you five fuckin' seconds to explain-"

"no, it's not what it looks like-"

"really, kid? what it looks like is you're fuckin' this stupid thing instead of me. y'know, i'll just fuck off and you can have fun-"

rafe stands, not really angry but still sounding like he is. it's more pent-up frustration bubbling up, but you rush over to him anyways, looking so panicked he feels bad the second he said anything. he can't stay mad at you for longer than a minute.

"it's not what it looks like, i swear-"

"what is it then, huh?"

"i was just practicing! i was just trying to get better for you. see, it's yours." you motion to the toy still on the bed.

"huh?" rafe asks, looking between you and the bed.

"it's you. see. it's like... your size. um-" you get flustered again, shutting up in the fear that you've just said something to rafe that you should have kept to yourself. "i'm.. sorry?"

"no you're not."

"no, but i feel bad. are your feelings hurt? i'm sorry."

when rafe glances back at you, tearing his gaze away from the bright pink that's beginning to hurt his eyes, he realizes how sad you look, thinking you've done something to upset him.

"no, m'fine. just.. tell me next time. it was a jump scare."

"okay.." you stay still infront of him, awkwardly playing with your hands waiting for him to say something. you're a little concerned rafe's still upset, but he doesn't seem to look it, rather looking at you expectedly.

"what?" you question immediately, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"what? get on the bed. you've had enough practice. time for the real thing."

[nkjemisin]

Fiction is not reality

Got three or four asks lately about an old Le Guin-inspired short story, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight." Did somebody post an article or something? I haven't gotten any alerts that would explain the sudden interest. (Did see one annoying AI-written summary that hallucinated new characters into it and said I'd written it in 1973, when I would've been one year old. Don't use AI for lit crit, folks.)

Anyway, rather than answer them individually, I'll post this as a collective response.

All of the asks were about the story's meaning, in one way or another, so I'll start there -- but. Y'all. The author is usually the worst person to ask about what their work means; haven't you heard that the author is dead? We're too close to our own work to do good analysis. I can tell you what inspired it, or what I was thinking while I wrote it, but that doesn't mean I put all that into the story, or successfully got across whatever did make it in. Pretty often my writing doesn't mean anything; it's just something I need to get out of my head.

The asks seem to center on whether I actually intended Um-Helat to be a utopia, and -- no. I thought it was pretty obviously a dystopia, actually, like Omelas... but then I constantly run into people who describe Omelas as a utopia, so maybe the problem lies with people's definition of "utopia." (Personally I don't believe utopias are possible IRL. Anytime you've got more than one person in a society, their respective visions of an "ideal" society will vary, and sometimes conflict.) I was exploring my own struggle with envisioning a society free of bigotry, and Le Guin's narrative -- which gently pokes at the reader's skepticism and jadedness -- spoke to me in that moment of need. So I decided to do some poking of my own, from a different angle, to see if that helped clarify anything for me. I liked the result enough to publish it in How Long Til Black Future Month, tho it's since been reprinted in many places.

That said, a couple of the asks went to a weird place, and I feel like I need to address it. You folks do know that a story's narrative voice is not the same as the author's voice, right? So for example, in "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," the omniscient first-person narrator of the story is not Le Guin. What that narrator believes is not necessarily what Le Guin believes, or vice versa. She didn't tell you about the abused child in Omelas because she thought it was A-OK to abuse kids as scapegoats/representations of the evils of the world. Likewise, I didn't tell you about the traumatized child in Um-Helat because I think it's A-OK to stab possible bigots. The narrator is another part of the story. It's fiction, not an essay, or a confessional.

It feels weird to have to say this, because it seems so obvious to me... but we are on the "piss on the poor" site, after all, in a time when critical thinking is under literal attack from The Powers That Be, so I guess I gotta. I do not stab people, not even bigots. I am not pro-stabbing or pro-childhood trauma. I am somewhat pro-transdimensional-travel, but that's neither here nor there.

Oh -- and sidenote, but I've been ridiculously busy lately, and I'm working through the backlog of asks very slowly. If you've sent in something, I will hopefully get to it within a month or two. Hopefully.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hey! Can I make a request for a s/o that tries to get Arlecchino/Yelan/Eula/Shenhe to laugh?

(Genshin Impact/H:SR) Arlecchino, Yelan, Eula, Shenhe, Herta, Hanya, and Fugue's S/O trying to get them to laugh

HERTA JUMPSCARE!

Arlecchino is more amused by the fact S/O is trying to get her to laugh rather than anything they directly do.

Which is to be commended, whether out of bravery or some form of perceived death wish by others.

(Arlecchino) "...S/O, what are you doing?"

S/O was currently dressed in a ridiculous duck outfit, with many of the children at the House looking at them in disbelief, laughing and also wanting to play with them.

(S/O) "Um...being funny?"

She glances the outfit up and down, the only expression being made was the raise of a single eyebrow.

(S/O) "Is it working?"

(Arlecchino) "In some capacity, yes."

Arlecchino replied in the most deadpan voice imaginable.

She isn't entirely made of stone, but because it amuses her, she doesn't really change her usual stoic expression at S/O's shenanigans.

She does however find it somewhat sweet.

Result: Task failed successfully!

Yelan is pretty easy to amuse, though not in the way most people imagine.

She can "laugh" along to what people say, but that's usually to blend in to her job.

When it comes to actually genuinely laughing, she has a different means to do that.

Letting S/O roll her dice.

(S/O) "HOW IN THE HELL DID I GET SIX ONES IN A ROW?!"

Yelan immediately bursts into laughter from their anger, seeing this was the sixth time they had rolled, and decided that she was going to stay home instead of going out for dinner.

(S/O) "Did you weigh these damn things?!"

(Yelan) "Of course not, that's just how they roll."

(S/O) "MY FOOT!"

They usually tried to get her to laugh at some dumb jokes, which sometimes works, but this is a surefire way to get her almost wheezing. Not that S/O was actively trying here, but it counts!

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Eula's heart was not made of stone, despite what she told others (Even as a joke).

Especially when it came to S/O, her cold, standoffish personality crumbled the moment they gave her any type of affection.

Moreso when they actively tried being stupid to get her to giggle.

(S/O) "Eula!"

She looked up from the book she was reading, only the two of them inside her living room.

(Eula) "S/O? What is it?"

(S/O) "Check it out!-"

S/O was wearing an outfit Amber had personally made them, beaming at them with a smile.

Bearing a rather striking resemblance to-

(S/O) "Mark my words, vengeance will be mine!"

Herself.

(Eula) "...Pfft!-"

Eula immediately folded, laughing with one hand going to her mouth.

(Eula) "How long have you been holding onto that to make a joke?"

(S/O) "About a month."

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Shenhe is stonefaced like, 99% of the time. She understands some humor, but trying to get her to emote any other time is a fool's errand.

One that S/O still attempts!

Jokes were out of the question, so were a bunch of other the usual methods.

Instead, they try a tried and true method!

S/O tickled Shenhe, and her hand instantly caught S/O's wrist within half a second.

(Shenhe) "What are you doing?"

(S/O) "Trying to make you to laugh!"

Shenhe gently released their hand, and tilted her head curiously.

(Shenhe) "...Very well. You may try again."

Shenhe, mentally, is happy with S/O just doing couple shenanigans with them, though she never showed it.

Result: Failed, kinda...?

Herta can laugh, though it's not exactly anything that S/O, much less other people, can comprehend.

And trying to get Herta to laugh can both be the easiest and hardest thing to do.

Trying to tell a joke or show her some dumb picture?

Vetoed, blocked, denied, not funny, didn't laugh, also you're stupid-

In other words, normal humor doesn't really work on humor.

But in an experiment?

(S/O) "H-Herta?! Am I supposed to be feeling so...floaty?"

(Herta) "Yes yes, normal side effects besides...Oh yes, spontaneously imploding."

(S/O) "SPONTAENOUS-WHAT?!"

Herta's laugh immediately fills the room, with her waving a hand dismissively.

(Herta) "Relax, I'm joking...Mostly."

(S/O) "So...any idea when I'll come back to the floor?"

(Herta) "Hm, most likely in a few hours. Worry not, I'll get my puppets to tie you down to a railing."

Her smile persisted, so that was at least some comfort.

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success! Now, get back to drinking those elixirs, Herta needs results!

Given Hanya's life experiences and role as a Judge of the Ten-Lords, humor is pretty hard to come by.

Though that does not stop her S/O from trying!

...And failing pretty miserably at that.

(Hanya) "S/O? What is that?"

(S/O) "I...think it's for a bath, but it's consisting of peppers?"

(Hanya) "You do not intend for us to use that, do you?"

(S/O) "Mostly for me. I was betting someone that I could get you to laugh if I used it."

(Hanya) "I do not think that harming yourself in such capacity would get me to laugh."

(S/O) "Only one way to find out, eh?"

Though S/O was smiling, Hanya was not so easily amused.

...

(Hanya) "Well, your scream was certainly unexpected."

(S/O) "Agh, and so was this burning sensation...! Did it work?"

Hanya had the faintest smirk on her lips.

(Hanya) "I didn't know your pitch could get that high."

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Fugue was still able to find pleasures from her past life just as enjoyable, chief among them being S/O.

And though they had only the faintest idea of what she was fully going through, getting her to smile was their top priority.

Even if the result made them look like an utter idiot.

That was worth it just to get her to laugh and have that light in her eyes again.

Fugue eyed the bowl S/O had gotten with a suspicious look, noting the red broth.

She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but something in her conscious was screaming something was wrong.

(Fugue) "S/O...Is that spicy?"

(S/O) "Sure is!"

(Fugue) "Can you eat spicy food?"

(S/O) "Kinda? I'm not allergic but it'll make me sweat a lot!"

Before she could question it further, S/O took one bite of the noodles with a pair of chopsticks, before their eyes shot open.

(S/O) "H-HOT! HOT!"

Fugue was stunned for a moment, only to begin laughing afterwards, watching their exaggerated reactions as they rushed to grab water.

(Fugue) "If you just wanted to entertain me, S/O, you could have just brought me to a show."

After rushing back to their seat and drinking the entire can, they gave her a tired smile.

(S/O) "Hah, where's the fun in that...?!"

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

[theeroins]

If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.

Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)

“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.

“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?

now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..

(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)

Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.

You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.

Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.

And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Hi hi hii! I hope all is well with you :3 I really enjoy your Boothill fics, they bring me so much joy! If it's possible, could I request something?

I've had this idea in my mind about mechanic!reader overworking themselves, not eating, sleeping, or hydrating as they should be as they can forget to tend to their own needs at times...(sadly you can't solely sustain yourself on candy and sugar)

Then Boothill comes to visit them and finds mechanic!reader in an exhausted state, basically forcing them to eat actual food and rest up.

a/n: 1.8k w.count - cw!!: mentions of being awake a long time and not eating!!

boothill just finished up two different jobs he was on, one solo and another pitching in to help a pal that was conveniently in the area. after such hard and capable work, he figures he's owed a quick pass by your shop. that, and something in the back of his head was nagging at him to swing by- and it wasn't because of his neuro-chip.

stepping through the shop's entrance, the door pushes open and the bell above the door chimes. before he can open his jaw and call out to you, searching you out in the premise, he instead starts yelling in shocked noises.

from above, a small mass of something emerges from the shadows of the ceiling. the exposed pipes that line the walls are the perfect place for something small, like critters or rodents, to trek and hide on.

the cowboy half expected a racoon or something to land on his head. what he didn't expect was the feeling of metal bashing into his face instead of a mass of fur and talons.

"son of a-!" he almost fully curses. taking two steps back in lieu of the 'attack', he raises his hand and grabs the metal clinging onto his face and hair. "get offa' me!" he hisses.

the sound of familiar beeps has him using his grip a bit more carefully. working on cooling down his insides that had been fired up into a friendzy, boothill successfully pulls ore off of his face to look at him properly.

"the hell do you think you're doin', eh lil fella?" the little assistant robot that usually stuck to you like glue flails in the air as boothill holds him between his finger and thumb by the sides of his rectangular head.

the expression the robot has on its face was accompanied by it's flinging arms and legs: [＞﹏＜]!!

"ey, ey, ey, lil dude, chill out."

boothill marches to the desk that acts less like a reception desk and more like a display counter. setting ore down, its flailing stops but the squeezed expression stays put. the cyborg bend at the waist, laying one of his arms over the counter to get- more or less- eyelevel with the little helper with the other going to his hip.

"okay, what's the problem. where's your fixer?" boothill asks. its a joke between the two of you that you act more like ore's guardian than owner. so, in regard to your identity, to ore you became his 'fixer'. ore points one of its metal coated arms behind him and one of its legs stomps. "in that back?" ore nods. "alright, let's go check on 'em shall we?"

ore, instead of taking a ride on boothill's shoulder or being carried in his palm, hops from the counter and rushes around through the doorways that you always keep propped open during shop hours. boothill struts his way through the shop, leisurely following the fella.

as he makes his way through the shop, boothill finally notes the lack of noise he's so used to hearing. no knocking on metal, or drilling of tools. no hint of work, not even your murmuring echoed through the building. it was just quiet.

well now he's just starting to worry.

adding a half-step to his stride, boothill follows the beeping provided from ore and finds himself coming through the cracked doors of your far back work room.

ore is already up on your desk thanks to your installation of small metal-sheeted pullies you made for it. its standing by your head that rests on your arms, folded over your desktop. both of its arms push against your skull, fretting in digital sounds.

walking in, boothill makes his way to your back, placing a gentle touch to the space between your shoulders. his free hand pushes against your desktop, leaning over to try and see if your face was peeking out of your arm pillow situation at all. you were out like a light, but you should be sleeping in bed.

"ey, sugar," boothill softly calls. his hand rubs against your back, rustling your shirt to try gently coaxing you awake. it gets him no where. "hey," he tries again. with a bit of a harsher shake of your shoulder, you bolt upwards. with a gasp from both you and boothill, ore stumbles backward onto its metal backend from the force in which you eject him from your skull. you whip your head back and forth, blinking wearily and rapidly before you finally register boothill's arrival.

"the hell, when did you get here?" your voice is groggy and rushed, and if the ranger hadn't just jostled you awake from your desk, he'd find it pretty cute.

"does it matter? why the hell you sleepin' at your desk? you have a bed."

"what? oh, no, it's fine." you rub your palms into your eyes, blinking back the black splotches it causes when you pull them away. "i just dozed off in the middle of something."

"uh huh." boothill is unconvienced. "you wouldn't be neglectin' your needs just for some work, now would yah?"

"what? no. no, i'm fine. perfectly healthy."

"i didn't ask if you were healthy." you don't offer him anything more and he sighs. shifting his weight, he puts on hand on his hip. "ore," he beckons the robot and it answers with a beep. "when's the last time your fixer here took care of themself?" there's a spinning dial on his digital screened face before a number pops up.

[21 hours ago !!]

boothill's jaw drops in disbelief.

your jaw drops in betrayal.

you jump from your stool, palms against your worktable while ore's 'face' lights up with exclamation points [!!!!!] before scampering away from your ire.

"are you serious right now?" boothill bites as you look over your shoulder at him. his arms are crossed, and a frown settles on his lips. it's rare you're on the receiving end of a scolding since it's usually you telling him off for being reckless or the like when he comes in for repairs. you kind of hate it to be honest.

"it's fineee," you draw out, huffing as you run your hand over your face. you have a headache, and standing up so quickly didn't help.

boothill clicks his tongue. clearly you were in no mood to listen. it dawns on him that ore's little attack from the entrance was probably him trying to persuade potential clientele away so you could rest. but seeing boothill come through the doors, the robot instead took his arrival as his saving grace.

boothill is a hardened galaxy ranger. but he also happens to be a big softie too.

"have it your way," the cowboy shrugs before pushing you away from your workstation by your shoulder. getting just enough distance between you and your job, he bends at his knees, hooks one of his arms around your side and hoists you up. you find yourself face first against his back with his tattered, red scarf brushing your cheek.

you feel and hear the contraptions and hinges in his body hiss and work to accomodate your weight over his shoulder.

"boothill!" you push your palms against the dip of his back, pushing your body up as much as you can as he starts carting you off.

"ore, be a lil' helper and grab your fixer something to put in their stomach. one of them small shakes or somethin' will do." ore, with its marching orders, obeys and dashes off once again. you almost regret that you programmed ore to obey boothill too.

in truth, boothill would prefer food in your stomach, but ore is about 2 fists tall. a prepackaged supplement from your fridge will have to suffice.

you don't fight him as much as he expected as he marches to your room where he rolls you off his shoulder and onto your mattress. landing with a soft thud, you dont have time to recover before he's throwing a pillow from the floor at your face.

"umph! hey, quit it!" you hiss, pushing the pillow aside. the ranger takes a seat at the foot of your bed as you shuffle to sit up and bring your legs in so he doesn't crush them. his knees are perched apart and his arms crossed. he watches the door, saying nothing, waiting for ore to come in. "are you really upset about this?"

"do i seem happy?" he shoots back.

"you dont need to get lippy with me," you bite as he rolls his eyes.

"i apparently do. not taking care of yourself properly? you can't be doing that, sugar." his scolding tone softens the more he talks. seeing how high strung he is about this, you feel almost guilty. you start picking at the fabric of your shirt.

ore soon brings you in something to consume that's better than nothing at all and helps sooth the post-sleep irritation in your throat. you didn't realize how scratchy it felt until you were forced to.

you're not sure when it happens, but at some point boothill has you laying down properly in your bed with a new change of clothes. and not too much later, you're sleeping before you could even try to fight back.

ore takes the empty container that was once full of your meal substitute and trots off to discard of it. boothill sits at the edge of your bed, where he's been planted the whole time. the cowboy observes you from a lean, his elbows resting on his metal knees.

you're breathing easy, which is good, but he still grimaces at the tiredness gathered under your closed, relaxed eyes. with your face washed of muck and soot, he can see your fatigue clearer.

boothill groans quietly, lowering his head as one of his hands comes to brush the hair off the side of his face and ruffle the strands together, definitely knotting it up. when he brings his hand back down, he winces when some strands pull from his scalp- his whole head is sensitive, so he should've known better.

when it seems like you're down for the count and won't wake up the moment he leaves you alone, boothill stands from your bed. the blanket is rumpled from where he's been sitting, and the impression of his presence is visible to his one good eye. oddly, it's comforting.

lifting his hat, he swings it down off his head and sets it gently on your bed side table that's littered with all sorts of odd and ends. along with a barely working alarm clock that has one of the digital numbers flickering in and out. you'll have to rewire that soon. he leaves it with you as he dismisses himself to let you rest.

beyond your bedroom, ore beeps and bops with noises as boothill sits at the reception desk. his legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the desk with his arms crossed as he... talks? with ore.

any customer that walks in is met with a mean glare and a harsh 'get out' before he's shooing them out the door.

his nine-mililmeter is only on the desk next to him for some.... extra incentive.

a/n pt.2: i tried incorporating a few of ore's expressions with emoticons. is that lame? too cheesy? who knows. i love that little robot tho. [anyways sorry this rq took so long anon hnnnnng]

[the-anxious-stargazer]

Missing Your Warmth || Ava Starr

Pairing: Ava Starr / Ghost x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader wakes up in the middle of the night missing Ava's presence and does not realize that she had woken up from a terrible nightmare. What will she do to comfort her?

Words: 1.6k

Warning: mostly fluff and a bit hint to my next work because Ava deserves all my gay love for her :<< also i wrote this right when ant man and the wasp came out but somehow never had the courage to post it... welp guess Thunderbolts* brought back some writing energy in me! ^^

[Masterlist]

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━ ☆☆☆ ━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

Chilly nights were those kinds of things Y/N never liked. She had problems when it comes to cold weathers in general and usually she preferred to just stay inside her room covered with her thickest blanket, fuzzy socks and her girlfriend beside her. It made her sleep much better when her body heat kept her comfortable. But not tonight. Y/N had woken from her slumber when she felt a missing warmth beside her and concern quickly rushed in. Her joint pains were ignore when whimpers were heard close and it caused her to look for the brunette in their shared bedroom. When Y/N turned behind she saw the source of the noise,

Ava.

The woman was standing next to the wide window staring at the creepy woods while fidgeting the hem of her top. Y/N already knew by the way she curled to herself that she was going through it. She got out of bed and slowly made her way to her spot. Her arms around her girlfriend's waist, yet failed to secure her body when she started phasing through her touch. Ava let out a little gasp when she felt the arms around her and when she turned to face the person, few tears were present. The brunette always tried to present herself strong when her pain emerged, but only times she thought she's by herself did she let herself be vulnerable to the world. It was still a working progress for them to open up for each other especially for Ava's side. Y/N couldn't help but frown at the sight of her girlfriend's sorrow. She then attempted to wipe her tears and a smile took place when she did successfully.

"You should've woke me up, love." Y/N softly let her know before Ava reprecipitates her hug.

"You looked too peaceful. I didn't want to be a bother."

A sigh escaped her lips as she heard this coming from her.

"You, Ava Starr, will never be a bother to me, do you understand?" Y/N reassured before she backed up a bit to look at Ava's face and saw a small smile painted on it.

The moonlight then shone on her face and Y/N couldn't help but admire her beauty again. It sounded cliché but she did admit that the girl in front of her radiated such an amount of beauty and pain at the same time. From time to time, Y/N is able to help ease Ava's pain as well. It was emotionally and mentally helping Ava to grow more patient for a cure. She was badly eager to finally hug Y/N and Bill tightly without phasing or feeling any physical pain. Even if there were times where the brunette would push the two of them away when she was hurting, her girlfriend never gave up on her and Ava was blessed to have someone so understanding and empathetic like her and the professor. Y/N loved every bit of her even if she wasn't physically okay.

Many times did she offer for her to leave and find someone who wasn't like her, who was normal and abled body, and she refuses them every single time. She never regret on falling. Y/N loved every bit of her and Ava couldn't find anyone better who could treat her the way her lover does.

As Y/N continued to slip out of reality, Ava's smile then widened at the sight of her zoned-out girlfriend and planted a quick peck on her lips, causing her to snap out of her thoughts. Y/N blinked a few times and a giggle erupted from the brunette's lips.

Oh how she loved the way her eyes crinkle when she does that smile.

"You're spacing out again, Y/N/N." Ava pointed out.

"I've got a breathtaking view in front of me. I better savor it before someone else shares the luxury."

This caused the girl to blush and burrow her face on Y/N's chest. Ava could hear her heart beating the same way as hers. It was those kinds of moments that she wanted to cherish the most. She then recalled the reason why she woke up in the first place and decided to share what caused her to be awake in the first place to Y/N.

"It felt real honestly. My nightmare. I thought I lost you." The brunette opened up before she pulled away from Y/N's chest.

"I-I sounded so exhausted and you looked so defeated. We were fighting over something in the kitchen and you told me you were tired of hoping for us. Then you walked out the door and I couldn't bring myself to chase after you. I could not imagine living without you. I don't know if I could still hold this even longer." Ava continued.

The scene replayed in the brunette's mind and it broke her heart hearing how the nightmare version of Y/N had already grieved their relationship. A few tears had fallen as she was reminded of it.

Y/N's hands traveled to her cheeks and caught them, rubbing them with her thumb to comfort her as she let her cry.

"I'm sorry you had to dream about that. Please know that I will never do that. I chose to stay by your side and be here no matter how hard and long this journey might be." Y/N said before leaving a kiss on her nose.

Ava's heart then started beating faster and she couldn't stop turning into a blushing mess. She was avoiding Y/N's eyes and it felt like she didn't deserve it,

Deserved this amount of love.

"What did I even do to deserve someone like you?"

"Oh you know, constantly staring at me when I was reading my books under that same maple tree at the park." Y/N reminded her of the exact time she first encountered Ava at the city park.

Y/N sat peacefully under the tree as she continues to read another book that she had found in her father's bookshelves. The man had a big heart for books and his own daughter inherited his love for them as well. As she continue to read, she felt a pair of eyes that were focused on her figure. Y/N saw from the corner of her eye that it was the same brunette who'd been frequently staring at her every time she was at the park. In her mind, the woman probably thought she was weird because there were so many benches that were empty for her to sit on yet she chose the grass as her comfort spot.

Her eyes slowly trailed a bit to look at her clearer, she was somewhat attracted to the mysterious woman. Her long dark hair, light brown skin fit well with her small figure. Maybe the woman was probably two inches smaller than Y/N, and she found it cute. She couldn't tell what the color of the brunette's eyes were since their distance was a bit decent enough for Y/N to not figure out. She then brushed her thoughts off again and proceeded to read her book. Y/N was daydreaming a bit too much about her curious watcher.

Few minutes later, she saw the woman stand up from her bench and started walking away. Y/N was expecting for the brunette to finally approach her or something, but she guessed that she hoped too much.

"S-So, uh- What's the premise of the book?" Y/N heard someone ask her before she looked up again and saw the girl herself in front of her.

She found herself having difficulty hiding her panic realizing that she was right before her.

"I- uhm... It's about a man who got stranded on a island after he was pushed off accidentally from his boat." Y/N informed her before she saw her smile.

"I-I'm Y/N by the way." "Nice to meet you Y/N, I'm Ava."

"You know, I have noticed that you've been staring at me lately and I was hoping that you'd finally make a move. Now look at you finally taking the courage." Y/N pointed out with nothing but her honesty and she saw the brunette chuckle.

"Y-Yeah. It took me a while to get the nerves." Ava replied all bashful before scratching the back of her neck.

Y/N was then starstruck when she finally noticed the brunette's eyes. Grey. There were hints of green and blue whenever the sun shined on them. She couldn't help but stare at them and just admire how her eyes sparkled. She had a weird feeling in her gut, but this was something she actually liked. Ava noticed her admiration and felt her cheeks flush a bright shade of red.

"Y-You want to grab some coffee and walk around, Ava?"

"I would love to, Y/N."

Ava chuckled at this and lightly smacked her girlfriend's chest at the memory of their meeting.

"You know, I had to actually wear my suit under the clothes I was wearing that day so that I wouldn't phase harshly. You're a lucky bastard to be the reason to waste such energy for that." Ava joked and her girlfriend snickered.

"Well, I'm happy you had the balls to approach me that time. I don't really know where I'd be now if I hadn't met you." Y/N admitted with her heart warming up all over again.

She watched the brunette phase a bit as her lips formed a wider smile. Ava's arms were now loosely wrapped around Y/N's neck and gently ran her fingers through her hair. It tickled her bare skin a bit. Y/N then brought her lips to her forehead and planted a tender kiss on it, reminding Ava that she will always be safe and be loved by her no matter what happens.

"Let's go back to sleep, love?" Y/N invited her,

"Of course, darling. I'd be cruel to let you sleep cold."

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━ ☆☆☆ ━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

[kunoiashifts]

·˚ ༘ ~ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜɪꜰᴛɪɴɢ ɴᴏɴꜱᴛᴏᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ~ ·˚ ༘

✩ for the past few weeks, i had been spiraling repeatedly.

✩ it was like whenever i got newfound motivation and a feeling that i'd actually shift, i'd just spiral over and over. i was stuck in a loop of having a good mindset, to having a worse one all over again.

✩ last weekend, i decided enough was enough. i wanted to shift, and i wanted my mindset to be suitable for shifting in general.

✩ i read up on these two posts and realized that i was basically just self sabotaging myself all along. 😭

✩ when i cried and worried about not shifting, i let my thoughts run rampant and persist in the fact that i hadn't shifted yet. it wasn't bad that i felt emotional, it was bad that i felt like my emotions would set me back. and i let them do so. this is why people tell you it's okay to be upset. it's okay to cry. just don't let your emotions dictate your shifting journey because you will get there no matter what.

✩ what i should have been doing was instead of persisting in negative thoughts, i should have swapped them out (i used the photo in the first post linked to help me understand how to do it). even if it hurt to even try to affirm or stop them, i'd let them go if i just forgot about them on my own. after a while, i found myself putting way less pressure on myself.

✩ and to help me normalize revision, i used it for other undesirable thoughts throughout my days. eg. "i hate math class— wait, i love math class because it's so easy!" (and guess what? it became easy just like that!!)

✩ and now, for the fun part. :3 after learning how to revise my negative thoughts, i decided to figure out how to actually get what i want.

✩ and the only key was to know i already have it.

✩ but i had already heard that 1,000 times before. however, when i read up on the second post and learned more about imagination, i realized i had been doing it all wrong.

✩ manifesting isn't about getting. it's about remembering you already have it.

✩ i had heard countless times about how you should "live in the end" and "act as if," but nothing ever stuck with my stubborn brain.

✩ so when i actually sat down and learned how the 3d and 4d worked through imagination using the video linked in the second post, i knew how to get to my dr.

some of the other edward art videos i watched, i genuinely find him so helpful:

Don't Try, But Experience - literally everything clicked for me in this video the most

Imagination is Not A State

Imagination is Self

✩ tldr: once i imagined it, i experienced it. no matter what the 3d throws my way. whenever i got a fleeting doubt, i'd simply revise it. "i haven't shifted yet— what? i'm in my dr right now, what am i talking about?"

✩ obviously it's easier said than done. but trust me, my brain was extremely stubborn before this and didn't take in ANY info i mindlessly bombarded it with. if you just take a second and actually try to understand law of assumption, it will click. and for me, all it took was these two simple posts.

if you'd like to know how i've been getting extremely close to shifting, then here :3 — every night, after using the HMM method and imagining my dr before sleeping, I've gotten very vivid dreams, (multiple about me successfully shifting) a flash of light behind my eyes as if i shifted for a split second, feeling way more connected towards my visualizations, (because now i see them as truth, they're genuine memories from my desired reality.) and overall feeling way more confident in myself. doubts have barely popped up, even if i wake back up in the old story. because i'm living the truth in my true reality (4d). my mind is all i need.

this is why people tell you your mind shifts first.

take that and run with it.

persist in the fact that you've already shifted.

imagine your dr, not as a faraway place, but as a place you've already been to. a place you're already in.

- ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɴᴏɪᴀ

[gremlin-girly]

Double Crochet

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: just fluff, cuddling, mentions of a first kiss

Summary: After bumping into you at the store, you teach Bob how to crochet.

word count: 1.3k

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Bob Reynolds Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Pick Your Fic

Double knit. Chenille. Alpine.

Wool. Wool. Wool.

Too many choices, too many projects, too little time. You're stood staring at the wall of Wool trying to remember what you actually went to the store for. Was it wool? Probably not. You already had too much in your room at the tower that you were surprised you didn't have wool coming out of your ears. What started as an innocent hobby had become your hoard - a dragon's next of fluffy comfort you had yet to spin into something worthwhile.

How many granny squares did you need for a jumper? What about that pattern you started two months ago?

You grimace to yourself. No. You didn't need more.

...but then again.

Your fingers brush the baby-soft chenille thoughtfully. Something could be made from this. Easily. It's a beige - easily manipulated into an animal of some kind. Probably. Or there's an electric blue that could be a potential... thing.

"Hey, Y/N."

You almost launch the ball of wool you're holding at Bob out of fright. He had a nasty habit of appearing out of thin air, and you weren't sure if it was a by-product of the shadowy Void or his quiet mouse-like nature.

Mouse.

"Hey, Bob." You try to sound cheery but your brain is busy trying to remember if you have any patterns for mice plushies. "Wasn't expecting to bump into you here."

"I just wanted some snacks." He jingles his crisps in his hands and eyes the wool your cradling curiously. "You knit?"

"Oh, uh, no I crochet." You wiggle the wool between your hands. "I was meant to come in here for something else and got distracted."

"You crochet? That's so cool!" Bob's face lights up with the sweetest, infectious smile that has you melting to the floor like ice cream on a hot day. "What do you make? Could... Could you... show... me?"

His voice tapers with his usual shy, self-consciousness and you can't find it in your heart to tell him no.

"I don't have any pictures of my recent stuff." You half admit, not wanting to give away the fact you haven't picked up a hook in months. "But when we get back to the tower I can show you?"

"Sure!"

Having Bob look upon your creations felt strangely intimate. He handled each one like it was made of glass, cooing and gushing over your plushies and patterns on granny squares.

"They're so cute. How do you do it?" He looks impressed and intrigued behind his smile; it's genuine interest in your hobby and it makes you giddy.

"Um, well you can find patterns and tutorials online." You say, digging your toes into your rug and twisting your ankle shyly. You were a hair's breadth away from blushing and twirling your hair like a cartoon bunny.

"Could you teach me?" His blue eyes are irritatingly round sweet and you find yourself struggling to say no. You don't even want to think about the kicked-puppy look he would shoot you with if you turned him down.

Thus, you were resigned to nod your head and gulp out a: "Sure."

Bob is surprisingly quick to learn the basics. You sit close to him and run through basic stitches, demonstrating them and praising him when it finally clicks for him. It was worth every moment spent to see his tongue poke out in concentration when he follows your instructions and his face light up with joy when he successfully completed a stitch. Over the course of two days, you're practically joined at the hip, chatting and crocheting side by side but when a new mission demands a few days of your time you offer Bob free reign of your wool stash.

You help him pick out some patterns from your archive to help him practice and keep him busy while you're away and urge him to keep you updated on his progress and to ask any questions he might have. Not that any come - Bob almost ignores all of your texts and you can't help but feel a little affronted; like you'd done something wrong somehow.

Downtime during your mission is spent crocheting your plushie mouse. You'd decided when you started teaching Bob to crochet you would make it for him as a gift, doubly so now that you thought you'd upset him somehow.

The final touches were done minutes before the quinjet touched down on the roof and you were already speeding off and ignoring Bucky's summons for a debrief so you could find Bob, give him your gift and apologise for upsetting him somehow.

Entering through the doors and turning your first corner, you slam right into Bob, making your search rather short.

"Bob!"

"Y/N!"

You both go quiet, smiling sheepishly, and you see he's got his arms behind his back. You hold up your mouse plushie, feeling your cheeks grow warm and you can't quite meet his eyes.

"I made this for you. I'm sorry if I upset you recently, what ever I did I-"

"You didn't upset me!" He cuts you off, pulling a plushie of his own from behind his back. It's a little wonky, the eyes don't match up and there's a few holes from missed stitches but...

It's the cutest damn bunny you've ever seen.

"I was just focused on making you this... abomination." He chuckles slightly, holding the bunny in his hands like it's a cursed object and your heart has a pitter patter to rival an excited heavy metal drummer.

"I love him!" You squeal, making Bob look up.

"Really?"

"Yes!" You hold out your mouse to swap him for the bunny and Bob takes it with a grin, running his fingers over the soft wool.

"I'm going to call him Fred." You announce, holding the bunny comically high over your head like he was Simba.

"Fred?" Bob's nose scrunches in disbelief despite his smiling. "What should I call mine?"

"You can rename yours, if you want... I've been calling him Bob Junior for a while." You smile sheepishly as Bob blinks at you.

"Junior? After me?"

"Duh after you." You roll your eyes playfully but you chest feels tighter than before. "I was making him for you and it just kinda stuck."

Bob's cheeks are bright red now, and he brings the gift you made closer to his chest. "No that's... No, I like it too."

Later that night (after Bucky finally caught you and dragged you back for a debrief) whilst watching a movie in your room, you and Bob placed your double-crochet creations next to eachother on the bedside table.

"They look perfect together." You say cosying up under your comforter. Bob nods but says nothing so you continue unperturbed. "They look like they're holding hands too!"

You're pulled back suddenly into a firm chest and let out a small squeak. Bob immediately apologises when you look up and looks like he's about to combust on the spot.

"Sorry! I - erm..." He gives you a sheepish look. "They look like they're cuddling and I thought that we..."

He swallows thickly and his eyes flit around your room nervously. That pitter patter in your heart returns and you smile, sidling up closer to him instead. Bob stiffens then relaxes, letting his arm drape around you - even if he is still shaking like a chihuahua.

"If you wanted life to imitate art, you should have just said so." You tease softly, laying your head on the space inbetween his neck and shoulder.

That night marks the beginning of many more in his arms, sometimes crocheting, sometimes watching a movie, always chatting. What you and Bob have builds slowly, and whilst you ruin your first kiss by covering the eyes of your plushies, he doesn't seem to care. Your love took practice and even though it may be a little misshapen like Fred, it was still beautiful.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

Support writers. Support artists. Support the fandom.

Love ya! 🫶🏻

Taglist - add yourself here

@looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @purplefluffycows @ryubyy @steviebbboi @leeemabean @brianochka