#AS KINDA A WAY FOR SAYS DESPITE THIS STARING OUT AS A TINY ISSUE WITH TWO PEOPLE

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 10

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: This chapter contains mugging, memory loss, traumatic brain injury. This fic as a whole contains sex, language, violence, mental illness.

Word Count: 3164

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Author’s Note: I’m back! Obviously, it took me sooo long to figure out how to write this next chapter, but I finally got it together. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime & hope you enjoy reading it. The plan is to post more regularly soon (Chapter 11 is almost done).

“Makeup is an art,” Chantelle and Tina had explained to you the night before. “Think of your face as a canvas.”

Despite all their well-intentioned beauty coaching, the cold, hard truth was you still had no idea what the hell you were doing - you couldn’t even keep the differences between moisturizer, foundation and concealer straight in your brain. And after twenty minutes of attempting to “paint” your face like the natural-born Rembrandt they were convinced you were, you’d stared back at your reflection in the mirror and decided you looked like a clown…and not in a sexy-Arthur-Fleck kinda way.  

Exasperated, you’d washed everything off, opting instead for a tiny bit of mascara, lip gloss and powder.

But then there was the issue of your hair. You’d burned your fingers on Tina’s flat iron before managing to get things somewhat under control. But as soon as you stepped out onto the street the rain began to fall, causing your already-unruly mane to frizz up completely by the time you reached the subway.

Chantelle’s handpicked outfit, however, remained the only unblemished element of tonight's ensemble: her tight-fitting angora sweater did things for your non-existent cleavage you’d never imagined possible. You’d be sure to thank her profusely later…even though she thought you were going out with someone else tonight.

You’d never cared how you looked in front of a guy before…but Arthur Fleck wasn’t just a guy. To say he’d gotten under your skin was, perhaps, the understatement of your life: you were becoming crazy about the man.

You didn't know how you were going to survive this date. You could barely hold it together in Arthur’s presence without wanting to reach out and smother him with affection, and the kiss between you earlier today had only solidified your deepest desires. You wanted Arthur in so many ways…ways you didn’t even understand yet. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever rode the Giant Dipper at Amusement Mile: the sensation of your stomach flying up into your throat as you went over that first terrifying drop…a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. Was this what being in love felt like?

***

The bouncer at Pogo’s frowned as you handed him your ID.

“Are you…um…are you alright, miss?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

You were thrown off by the question. “Of course. Why?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you looked in a mirror recently?”

You shook your head. The jerk was actually making fun of how bad your hair and makeup had turned out. People in this city really didn’t know how to act.

“Wow, you’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes at him, snatching back your ID. “Can I please go inside now? My friend’s about to go on.”

You pushed past the rude bouncer and entered the club, scanning the room feverishly for an empty seat. Spotting one parallel to the center of the stage, your eyes lit up and you rushed over to claim it. As you sat down, a strange chill ran up your spine as you slowly began to realize: everyone was staring at you. Faces of concern and mockery swam around you, and you weren’t sure why.

Oh shit, you thought. Do I have something on my face?

Unfortunately, you hadn’t brought a compact mirror (Tina and Chantelle had given you a five minute lecture on the importance of always carrying on in your purse), so you couldn’t check. And you couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom because then you’d lose your seat. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, then glanced at your watch and saw the glass was cracked.

Weird. You hadn’t remembered smashing it against anything on the way over.

Your concerns about your appearance, however, were quickly dissolved as the current act wrapped and the emcee took the mic.

“This next comic describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident who from a young age was told that ‘his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold, dark world.’ Umm. Okay? Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!”

You applauded along with the rest of the half-faded crowd as relief washed over you. Thank God you hadn’t missed him. As Arthur took the stage, your heart began to throb again. There were simply simply no words to describe how incredible he looked tonight. His red vest. The crisp, white button-down shirt underneath it. The matching slacks.

And his hair. His hair.

You were certain his hair was going to be the death of you. How was it possible that you and that gorgeous hair inhabited the same planet without the entire world imploding?

Arthur squinted out at the crowd before speaking. You knew he was searching for you, needing to see you in the audience, needing to know you were there for him. And you were. When the two of you locked eyes, he smiled. You smiled back at him and everything else fell away. It was you and Arthur again. And nothing else in this cold, dark world mattered.

You didn’t care that Arthur had a laughing episode at the beginning of his act. You didn’t care that basically all his jokes fell flat, either. You didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was how proud you were of him. So proud, you felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

When he finished his set, you leapt to your feet, clapping and screaming. Arthur blushed from the stage, embarrassed…and pleased. Everyone was staring at you, then back at Arthur, then back at you in dazed confusion. Two weirdo peas in a pod…and proud.

“We’re gonna take a short break,” the emcee announced.

A moment later, you and Arthur found each other at the back of the club.

“You were amazing, Arthur!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around him.

“I'm so glad you came tonight…” he hummed into your ear. Of course, your depraved mind twisted the meaning of those two words in your head, and you found yourself having to stifle a blushing smile. You felt your body quaver with excitement at being next to him once again.

“Wait a minute…” Arthur pulled back to look at you, shock and concern flooding his face.

“Y/N, what…what happened to you?”

You blinked. “What? Nothing happened to me.”

“You’re…you’re hurt.” Arthur looked you up and down, then lifted your hands to eye-level. Bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers and fingertips lined the insides of your wrists. You frowned at the sight, utterly confused.

“Y/N, who…who did this to you?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “I mean…I have a slight headache, but, y’know,  it’s probably just the rain.”  

“Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. Can you remember?”

It took a minute for your brain to register Arthur’s question, which you realized was a little strange.

“Well,” you inhaled, trying hard to formulate your thoughts. “I got on the subway…I know that. And I took it all the way to…well, whatever this stop was near here, you know? And then I got off the train and went up the stairs…and then…” you looked up into Arthur’s beautiful eyes. “And then I was here. Watching you perform for the very first time. And I’m so proud of you, Arthur!” you squealed as if you’d seen him for the first time tonight all over again.

“You don’t remember anything else? You must have hit your head.”

“I'm fine!”

“Y/N,” Arthur’s worried eyes blinked at you. “I don’t think you are. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”

“But it’s our big date!” you wailed. “I got all dressed up and everything!”

At that moment, a few Wall Street bro types brushed past and snickered at Arthur.

“Nice set, freak. In case you didn’t get the memo: you’re supposed to tell the jokes and the audience is supposed to laugh…not the other way around.”

"He has a laughing condition, you assholes!" you snarled at them without hesitation.

To everyone’s surprise, the bros paused, thrown off by the fact you’d called them out.

“Sorry…” Arthur interjected, glancing at the dudes apologetically. “She’s…she’s not feeling well.”

Arthur shot you a desperate please-shut-your-mouth-before-you-get-us-both-killed look, but you could see there was a tiny, triumphant smile curling up his lips underneath it. Still, the words were flying out of your mouth and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” you continued loudly, glowering at them. “Maybe if assholes would shut their fat faces and stop acting ignorant, I’d feel better.”

“Okay, you’re coming with me now!” Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and scooted you towards the door. You looked over your shoulder to see them staring after you, dumbfounded. The sight of it made you laugh.

“Y/N,” Arthur pulled you into him as soon as you were outside. “I’m taking you to Gotham Hospital. We’ve gotta get you checked out.”

“No, Arthur!” you protested. You didn’t exactly know why you were so opposed to the idea, but your first instinct was to protest.

“Y/N, please. Please? Just do it for me. Just so I know you’re okay.”

“I’m worried about you,” he emphasized.

“I’m fine!”

“Okay.”

You’d switched it up so quickly, Arthur blinked in disbelief. He cleared his throat, nodding.

“Uh…okay. Good. Let’s go.”

**

“This is not where I expected to end up tonight,” you lamented. Arthur sat next to you, a clipboard given to him by the nurse at the front desk in his lap. He was trying to fill out your paperwork for you.

“Um. Your last name is…L/N right?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him. “How’d you know?”

Arthur blushed. “I…might have looked at your timecard. I was…curious about you. This was before…you know…we became...closer.”

“That’s so sweet! I looked at your timecard, too!”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “What’s your date of birth?”

He patiently wrote in all the answers and brought the completed forms back up to the desk.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” you observed, looking around at the handful of other patients. “It is a Friday night, after all.”

“It’s only ten o’clock,” Arthur reasoned. “My guess is things get crazier out there in a couple hours or so.”

“I feel like things are flying out of my mouth tonight without any filter,” you blurted. “And I’m not even that angry.”

“I feel like they are, too,” Arthur agreed. “But, that’s okay. I’m glad you agreed to come here. I’m…I’m still worried about you.”  

You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Arthur looked a little startled, but he nodded.

“How do you get your hair to look so good all the time?”

Arthur’s eyebrows arched and he laughed.

“I'm serious!”

“No…I'm sorry,” he demurred, looking down at the tile floor. “It's just that nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“Nobody ever said your hair looks incredible?” you asked. “Like it's the most gorgeous hair in the world? Nobody ever approached you to do shampoo commercials?”

“Maybe that's my true calling,” he joked.

“What shampoo do you use?”

"That's a personal question," Arthur teased as the door to the back of the ER swung open.

“L/N? F/N L/N?” the nurse called out.

You leapt to your feet. “Oh! That’s me.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” Arthur asked.

“Are you kidding?” You extended your hand and pulled him up. “Of course I want you to come. You’re my emotional support clown.”

**

After weighing you, taking your blood pressure, asking if you had any allergies to any medications and all the other boring details that entailed a medical visit, the nurse set you up in an examination room and read through your paperwork, pursing her lips as she centered in on the handwritten scrawl (Arthur’s handwriting of course) that explained why you’d come to the ER in the first place.

“It says here you…think you hit your head?”

“He thinks I hit my head,” you clarified, jerking said head towards Arthur. “I’m still not sure. There’s a big gap in my memory from tonight and I don’t know why.”

“There are bruises on her arms,” Arthur added. “She came to meet me and she looked…disheveled. Like someone had…”

He paused. The nurse looked you up and down.

“You don’t remember what happened to cause the bruises?”

You shrugged. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”

“You’re not…that clumsy,” Arthur murmured under his breath. “I mean,” he looked up at the nurse. “She’s a dancer. She’s…one of the most graceful people I’ve ever seen.”

“Arthur, that is so sweet!” you exclaimed.

The nurse shot you both a skeptical look, then smiled. “Your husband obviously cares for you a great deal.”

“Oh,” Arthur blushed. “I’m…not her-”

“Yes, he’s a wonderful husband!” you interjected, flashing him a slightly maniacal smile. “So protective of me. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

“It sounds like you might have taken a fall,” the nurse continued, jotting down a few notes on your chart. “But the bruises on your wrists do look like they were caused by someone else’s hands.”

“My watch is broken, too,” you blurted.

“I’m wondering if maybe you were mugged. It happens to women in Gotham all the time, unfortunately.”

“But I still have all my money,” you pointed out, opening up your purse to show off your untouched wallet.

“Maybe you fought them off,” Arthur suggested. It wasn’t a completely outlandish notion. You were known to bring out the feistiness if the wrong people pushed your buttons.

“In any case, we’ll run some tests to check for concussion and other injuries.”

The nurse opened a drawer and handed you a light blue paper robe. “You can put this on. I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll check you over.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“Of course. He should be by in just a minute.”

“What a nice lady,” you said to Arthur after she left you alone. “Don’t always meet people like that around here.”

“Very nice,” Arthur agreed. He cleared his throat. “Um…do you want me to leave, or…turn around while you get changed?”

You blinked, the reality of everything that had happened tonight finally hitting you.

“I just can’t believe this is how tonight turned out.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked softly.

“I had a whole outfit planned, Arthur! And my hair and makeup. I wanted to impress you and look beautiful for you tonight.”

“Y/N…” Arthur stood up to face you. “You are beautiful. No matter what. All I care about is that you’re okay.”

You sighed, moved by his sweet words, but you still felt utterly crestfallen and defeated. “I ruined our first date. And your big stand-up debut. I wanted tonight to be perfect so bad…”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Arthur interrupted. “I…” he paused. “Of course I wish none of this had happened to you. This city is…awful. In so many ways.” He paused, taking your hand into his. “But…I just love being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”

You wanted to kiss him again, but suddenly the door flew open and a man in a white coat suddenly stood before you both.

“I hear somebody got banged up tonight.”

“My guess is you got mugged. Maybe the muggers chickened out before they could actually…you know…mug you. It does look like you’ve got a concussion.”

**

Dr. White’s bedside manner was on the complete other end of the spectrum of your nice nurse’s from a few minutes before, but you’d come to expect that from men with MDs. After performing the perfunctory tests of shining a light in your eyes, examining your body for additional trauma or bruising (none was found) and asking you a few routine questions, he announced his evaluation:

“What can you do for that?”Arthur asked, concerned.

The doctor snorted at what he obviously deemed a dumb question. “Not much. Just wait it out. Don’t go to sleep for a while.”

“What happens if I fall asleep?” you asked.

“You could die.”

“Oh.”

“Your brain’ll heal itself,” the doctor continued. “Might take a little time. Just try to take it easy and don’t be in places where this could happen to you again.”

“You mean the entire city?” you asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. You knew what he meant, but the slight insinuation that getting mugged was somehow your fault didn’t sit great with you.

“What can I say?” Dr. White shook his head and shrugged. “Welcome to Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here all my life,” you informed him dryly. “Gotham’s a jungle.”

“Then welcome to the jungle.”

**

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked in the lobby of the hospital. It was past midnight. “There’s a diner down the street people seem to like.” He paused. “That is…if it’s not too late for you.”

The way you saw it, you’d stay up all night with Arthur if he’d have you.

“Let’s go to the diner. I could really go for a cheeseburger."

Arthur laughed. “Okay.”

The rain had stopped and the air outside felt crisp and freshly-washed. For a brief moment, it made you forget that the garbage strike in Gotham had just entered its seventh week.

You and Arthur moved through the crowded sidewalk together, stumbling through the endless obstacles of people and garbage. A startling headline caught your eye as you walked past a newsstand, and you stopped in your tracks to read it:  

KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS, PAGE TWO.

Beneath was a drawing of a vampiric clown.

“Can you believe that?” you asked.

Arthur paused alongside you, his eyes wide as he soaked in the headline.

“I watched this on the news last night."

Arthur nodded, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “They worked at Wayne Enterprises. All three of them.”

You rolled your eyes. “That figures.”

Arthur cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

You continued, lowering your voice. “Between you and me, I actually knew one of them. Back when I was still at college. He was a complete asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.” You sighed. “And if I had to guess, those ‘friends’ of his were cut from the exact same cloth. But it looks like he finally picked the wrong person to fuck with. And I can’t say I’m shedding any tears.”

Arthur nodded slowly, taking in your words.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself. “You must think I’m crazy for talking like this.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Three less pricks in Gotham City,” you quipped. “Only a million more to go!”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed. You took it as a good sign: despite the traumatic brain injury and the chaotic night you’d shared, his smile still made you go weak at the knees.

🤍🩷 Thanks for reading. Visit my Masterlist for all my Fleck writing, including future chapters of Heartthrob.

[megaawkwardhuman]

@bebelaolf OK SO

as well all have noticed by now the vampires don't kiss AT ALL on camera despite doing far dirtier things on camera which is fucking weird

SO HERE ARE MY THEORIES

1 as we all know the vamps are really open about sex

LIKE REALLY REALLY OPEN (honestly power to them)

the way they view sex is just simply a thing you can do with anyone as long as they consent

it could be intimate but it could also just be a thing between friends (well I mean yeah sex also works like that irl but YOU GET WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY)

kissing on the other hand for the most part is heavily tied to romance in some way shape or form

so to the vamps it boils down to if you can fuck with whoever why hide it? but if you can't really kiss whoever why show it?

2 they just overall feel REALLY weird about kissing about on camera

this one is honestly self explanatory

they've fucked many MANY times in front of others so they can do it and talk about it no problem

buuuuut kissing? I mean maybe? but like for the most part prob not

so to have someone stare at them and record them kissing probably feels weird

3 they just don't really kiss often or at all

yeah they show their affection in many ways but maybe kissing is just something they're not the biggest fan of

4 the fangs cause issues when it comes to kissing

maybe they DO wanna kiss but the fangs cause issues so they just don't (I know the last two have nothing to do with the camera but like who's to say they kiss off camera you know?)

5 and this is a bit of a cop out

it all depends from vampire to vampire

maybe theory 1 is true for some but theory 2 is true for others

they're their own vampires so they can think and feel however they want

I know I know these could still work since it was colin who kissed someone

he's a completely different type of vampire and I personally think he views kissing as a means to drain people (well not JUST a means to drain but it is a good one cuz of how awkward kissing can be)

and as I said in the tags of the post this whole thing came from depending on how the others react to it they could still be true

but idk to me it kinda fucks it up a tiny bit?

we'll see we'll see

[sparksnevadas]

SPARKS you asked me to do this last night but then I got distracted bhHhshsjsn.

I am. A Quackcicle enjoyer. So:

I think 1, 2, and 3 for hands works really well (tiny hands in big hands, calloused hands in soft hands, cold hands in warm hands) for them or possibly 14 (grabbing hand to show them something) OR 36 (unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping) all give me their vibes.

For hugs, 11 (clinging to each other) and 16 (‘not wanting to let go’ hugs) fit well I think :D

From kisses, 12 (kisses on the corner of their mouth) 14 (kissing each other breathless) 16 (nose kisses) and 54 (sleepy kisses) *nods* (and if you want angst,,,,60- kissing with their last dying breath 👁)

Some good touch ones are 2 (running fingers through hair) 3 (hiding face in neck) 9 (listening to others heartbeat [evaporates]) I COULD KEEP GOING BUT THIS IS ALREADY A LOT

Feel free to do these separately, never do some of these, combine some, ect. Brought to you by homosexual energy in my first period English class

Hi Blue!!! You sent this like a week ago and i am SO SORRY it took so long. Life's just been kinda (sad clown noises), and it's been hard to concentrate on anything, especially today, but luckily for you, I really wanted to write about avians nesting :) I used... two of the hands one, 1 of the kiss ones and two of the touch ones (and depending on how you look at it, the hug ones too). It's kinda silly and my writing feels rusty but hope you like it!!! Hope you're doing well Blue!! <3

----

Quackity has been feeling off the past few days. It feels like a headache without the pain, a pressure behind his eyes and under his skin that aches dully for some sort of relief. He has no idea when it started, but it’s inconvenient-- Las Nevadas still needed his full attention, like clay needed molding to get it into the perfect shape. So despite the way the world seems to spin and blur around him, he forces his legs to walk forward as he outlines a new build: everyone knew a casino town needed a loan shop.

It’s only when he’s shivering despite the hot sun on his back that he realizes the issue.

It must be nesting season for him.

Nesting season was different for all hybrids. Some grew possessive or territorial, some needed to isolate. Quackity had realized years ago that he was pretty low maintenance when it came down to it: all he needed was a warm bed and he could sleep it off.

Key words being a warm bed.

“Is something wrong, Quackity from Las Nevadas?” Slime called out to him. Quackity glanced up from where he was bent at the waist, gripping a storage chest for balance. He doesn’t remember getting into this position, but the world is still spinning in front of his eyes.

“Hm,” he hums softly, thinking about whether he should lie. There’s something vulnerable about getting caught in this state, about to pass out because he needs to get cuddled. Even if it’s a biological thing, it still feels embarrassing.

“Do you want water?” Slime says, already scavenging through their side bag of trinkets. They pull out a glass bottle of water and hold it towards Quackity. “Did you drink too much again?”

Ah, he thinks I’m hungover, Quackity realizes as he takes the bottle. He twists the top off and takes a few small tiny sips. It helps slightly, but his skin is still crawling unpleasantly. Quackity doesn’t know if Slime thinking that is any less shameful than just admitting his birds instincts are getting the most of him.

“Thanks buddy,” he says simply, handing back the bottle. Slime takes it and stuffs it away. They tilt their head curiously.

“You’re looking a little green today, Quackity! Did you eat some slime while I was gone?” they ask.

Quackity shakes his head, feeling his resolve crumble as all of Slime’s attention was on him. He pushes his shoulders back, trying to stand up straight.

“I’m fine, just feeling a little under the weather-”

“Do you need to fly above it?” Slime says, looking up. They stare at the clouds for a moment as Quackity struggles to figure out what dots were connected in the mob’s mind. “Being under the weather has never bothered you before, though, Quackity from Las Nevadas.”

“I-I don’t mean the actual weather, Charlie!” Quackity corrects them. “It’s a saying! It just means I’m feeling sick.”

“Oh!” Slime says, looking back at him.

Without any preamble, Slime grabs Quackity’s hand and tugs the man closer. Their slime skin is cool to the touch, a little moist but still pleasantly distracting. Quackity squeezes his hand mindlessly, digging into the relieving feeling. Slime’s hand is bigger than his own, but softer, more gentle as it squeezes back.

“Let’s go home then,” Slime calls to him. It feels far away despite Slime being right in front of him.

—

When Quackity sluggishly wakes up, he barely processes that he’s laying in soft blankets. Someone is softly finger combing through his hair, but for once in his life, Quackity isn’t immediately panicked by the lack of his beanie. There’s a happy chirp halfway through his mouth before he can think to stop it.

The pillow under his head chuckles a bit and the hand continues to press soothing pets into his head. Quackity doesn’t question it as he reaches out, grasping for… something. He has to uncurl and fight his way through about four blankets before he finds it. He squeezes the goopy hand that immediately tightens around his own.

“Good midnight, Quackity,” Slime greets him from above his head. Quackity almost chirps, but he swallows it down as he looks up. There’s not a lot of light in the room, and as Slime pointed out, it was night time. Still, with the weakest of lights from his bedside insomnia candle, Quackity sees Slime grinning at him.

“Feeling better? The weather is alot cooler now-” Slime points out, lifting their hand from Quackity’s head to gesture towards his balcony. Quackity groans in annoyance at the loss, tilting his head back to chase after Slime’s hand. Slime gives him a curious look.

“Is something wrong?” Slime asks.

… It’d be so easy to just ask for their hand back, but…

Quackity leans further back, and then grapples with the blankets to pull his other hand free. He reaches out blindly, grabbing Slime’s wrist and pushing it back into his hair. After just a second of hesitation, Slime returns to gently pressing their fingers into his scalp, and Quackity sighs.

He returns to his more comfortable position on Slime’s chest, pulling Slime’s hand (still holding his hand) to his chest as he nuzzles closer. The blankets around him are warm and heavy, Slime’s hand in his own keeps him grounded even as his instincts threaten to spill over.

Still, something is a bit off about the situation. He presses further in Slime’s chest before he realizes.

Slime doesn’t have a heartbeat.

Wait, Did they always not have a heartbeat? Did Quackity never realize his best friend was gooping about with no heart?

That doesn’t seem right. He tilts his head back, again making eye contact.

“Do you have a heart?” He questions. Slime blinks.

“No,” they say easily.

“Since when?” Quackity presses.

“I think I ate chicken last week--” Slime begins to say, before Quackity cuts them off.

“No, I mean a beating heart, your own heart, like,” Quackity lets go of Slime’s hand and presses their palm against his chest, right above his heart. “Like this. Like mine.”

Slime’s eyebrows pinch in concentration as Quackity watches.

Then without a thought behind those eyes, Slime squeezes his chest firmly and makes a horn honking sound.

Quackity scrambles and pushes himself up into a seated position, pulling their hand away and covering his own chest.

“DID… DID YOU JUST HONK MY--,” Quackity yells, as Slime looks at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates and a huge grin.

“Yeah! That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Slime says back, and Quackity has to look down and bite his lip to keep from laughing in Slime’s face. When he barely has himself under control, he looks up.

“Noo,” he shakes his head, smiling at Slime. “How would you like it if I just came over and--”

Slime puffs their chest out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

It breaks any of the resolve Quackity has left. He giggles and then full on laughs as he leans down and presses his forehead against Slime’s chest. Slime seems to take it as an invite to wrap their arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. To be fair, it’s exactly what the bird part of him wants as he stretches his wings out and pulls Slime closer. A few chirps mix in with his laugh as he snorts, and Slime giggles softly into his hair.

“You’re- You’re so lucky that you’re cute,” Quackity giggles, looking up from his place in Slime’s arms. The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling from earlier has completely left him. He feels properly held, warm and loved. And as he looks at Slime grin under the praise, he can’t help but lean up and press a kiss against the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you,” Quackity says softly as he pulls away. “You didn’t have to bring me here, or-or even lay with me. I know I can get clingy this time of year-”

“When I tried to leave earlier, you held me down,” Slime says nonchalantly, grin still on their face. Quackity blushes with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He starts to push himself up, but Slime pulls him back down, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind. You’re really warm,” Slime says easily. “I like being with you.”

Quackity nestles closer to the crook of Slime’s neck, pressing his face into the warmth there while gripping Slime’s arms tightly.

“I like it too, Charlie,” he says back quietly.

The two stay like this until Quackity finally falls back asleep, his bird side perfectly satiated.

[dapotatoauthor]

What if your ocs were in a dating sim?

I was kinda planning to draw this BUT I have no energy to do it today so writing it will have to do wkllkre

(This is a reference to my post, 'INTRODUCING: MY OCS!') (I'll be doing my main 4 oc's but I have too many ocs LMAOO)

Tory Matthews

Lmao good luck talking to her

She's very timid, and she doesn't talk that much

She's struggling with what's reality and what's not since there's a literal demon inside her that's controlling her and manipulates her memories

But if you do manage, she's very fun to be with

She love video games and is willing to try others

She's a little competitive and smile cheekily when she wins because that's how she is

loves the outside, but not much people

While she might be scared getting attached, if you show her that you're not going anywhere (and you're real) then she'll come around

maybe

who knows

now that I think about it, her demon is kinda like a symbiote omg

you're technically dating two people now so uh yeah

"I hope I haven't caused you that much trouble."

Lyrnn Sanders (Rainbow)

Shit I just realized that I didn't develop her properly so I am just gonna write what comes to mind

If you ever want to get her, you have to show it

otherwise you'll be treated like a bro for eternity

surprisingly, she's oblivious when it comes to someone loving her

She doesn't really believe it if someone likes her THAT way

Show her your true feelings, and she'll show hers

She's very blunt and doesn't sugarcoat things

She'll tell you what you want/need to hear, even if it hurts

But she means well

She has a soft spot for kids

Even if she seems like she doesn't care for you, she does

Will die for you honestly

The outside is like her home more than her own home

"Watch me live on the streets instead lmao" "Rainbow, no."

Roadtrips for daysss

You can ask her for song choices, she's open to any genre and will gladly listen to what you have to offer

Candy G̴͕̣̣̱͙͇̰̎̓̇̔͗̿̕̕͜a̷̡̖͔̼̍͐͂̈͆̋͂̓͠l̷̳̖̺̻̦̼̮̻̥͊̍ė̶̛̞̰̪̱̩̥̞̍̑̋̄͜ͅṣ̷̨̹̠̙̘͙͍̗̹̮̪͂̔̅͂ (Cotton Candy)

Think of Pinkie Pie with a tiny mix of Rainbow Dash, then you have her

Her name 'Cotton Candy' is her stage name so you can just call her Candy

She's very sweet, lives up to her name

Life of the party <33 She just gets along with everyone

If you ever catch her attention, she'll try to stick to you as much as possible

But not to the point of suffocation oh no

But she'll check in on you every other day, asking if you need anything or just company

She's surprisingly very forward

If you ever complimented her/flirted with her. She'll compliment/flirt with you back (that is, if she's interested LMAO)

Ideal date probably in the amusement park or a trip to the bakery

"I just wanna say you look very beautiful" "Aww, thank you sweets! you're not so bad yourself!"

vs. "Damn girl, what that ass do?" *Stares in disappointment and kills you/hj*

Maddeline R̶̼̹̟͖̗̈́̄̀̂͝ͅh̸̹̓̍̏̒͠ÿ̶͚́͐̏̕m̵̨̡̢̤̰̰̔̃͑͒͆͐̂͝ȩ̶̖͙͔̥̝̳̣̝̐ (Mad Hatter)

She is the most sane out of everyone

I’m here to tell you that she’s also one of the ocs I HAVEN’T DEVELOPED AT ALL so my bad HAHHAHA

Maddeline is a level headed woman, she thinks things rationally and logically

She’s the mom friend of everyone I put in the list

So if you have mommy issues… 👁👁

She won’t treat you like a child but she will be there to help and care for you

You know, just like a mom would

She’s kind of uptight too so don’t do something stupid unless you want to get lectured

OKAY, COFFEE OR RESTAURANT DATES ARE HER GO TOO

Despite owning an amusement park, it isn’t really an ideal date for her

Yes she owns an amusement park

Wait, isn’t she technically a sugar mommy?? BDJSNSKSNKS AHAHAH

She’s a workaholic so having a relationship isn’t her number one priority

But if you try, maybe something will happen

Maybe

“Never in a million years I would’ve thought I would be here, getting myself a special someone. I guess you really are different.”

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

So ya know how some pokè fans are tired of the "friendly" rivals , like Hop ? I have an idea that I think could be a good alternative to the friendly rival, and very interesting from a story pov.

Since Scarlett and Violet are the new games, let's say that's the games this story takes place in.

Ya start off as childhood friends with Infer (since Scarlett and Violet are based on the color spectrum of light, I chose Infer, like infrared light, as a name for the rival) .

They start out all nice and friendly, sort of like Barry from diamond,pearl ,and platinum.

Yeah you two are besties but they still want to win the battles.

After the first battle they get a bit weird. They make an odd face, something akin to frustration.

They aren't happy that they lost but they still congratulate you, even though the smile on their face is strained. They say that they'll get stronger, and this will be the last time they lose to you. They leave you there but the promise that they will get stronger.

Then you run into them again . It's a quiet place . It's calm ,it's peaceful, somewhere in a garden or something .There are beautiful flowers surrounding you .their smile is a little bit less strained than when you last saw them. They challenge you to another battle and they lose again. They are not happy. They do not smile . They frown but it's a sad frown. They are upset that they could not beat you this time ,even with all their training. They say that they will train even harder now, now that they know your tricks you can't beat them again. Not with the same old tricks at least.

A little bit later they asked something of you. They'd like to see your strategy on a Pokemon doll. They want to see what makes your team so effective. You show them ,of course you would, they're your friend. They seem happy. They tell you they just want to know what makes you so strong. They want to be strong.

It's been a little bit since you last saw them. They do not smile as they approach you . In fact they almost look angry. They challenge you to another battle, and they use some of your old tricks on you. Once you defeat them again they're more than angry. They're infuriated.

Infer has always been kind to you ,yet at this moment, you have your doubts. Infer use something you showed them to their advantage in a battle against you. You show them your strategies and what do you get ? A knife in the back!

Throughout the game you always fight some evil team and this time will probably be no exception. And one point or another you and Infer end up sneaking into this team's base. Infer will not let you leave .They will not heal your Pokemon . You have to keep going further in, you have to keep battling.

Then you need the big boss. Except there's no one there, the room is empty except you and Infer. They smile and tell you their plan.

They had not been involved at first ,but well to beat you they had to grow stronger and what better way to do that ,than gain control of the legendary Pokemon? The old boss had a good plan together ,but Infer was stronger, and simply replaced them.

Now they've got you here , tired , weak , helpless , alone. Because you had to be a hero and go in by yourself, of course like the good friend they are ,they followed after you. And you didn't think anything of it.

So now it comes down to one last final battle. It isn't rival versus rival anymore. Now it's much much bigger than just the two of you. Now your life lies in your hands and the hands of your Pokemon. And depending on how this battle goes ,it just might be the sake of the world too.

OMGOMGOMG I /LOVE/ THIS

AND IT'S HARDLY EVEN A TWIST/SURPRISE VILLAIN (AT LEAST IT'S NOT VERY SURPRISING) SO IT'S NOT LIKE IT WOULD BE EVEN CLOSE TO BORING EVEN PLACED DIRECTLY AFTER VOLO

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Meant to Be (Soulmate AU, the end.)

:) I know it's been a lot of time in between each chapter, but I'm glad I saw it through, I think it's a nice wrap-up to this.

Pacing her apartment, the girl, covered in little bruises still, slapped a palm to her forehead. Stupid, stupid! She'd just let him take off before they could even work anything out, no place, no time—what had she been thinking? 

"I am such an idiot," she moaned into her hands. As Raphael had instructed, she had, in fact, called the police once her strange rescuers fled from the scene, but the procedures that ensued from an assault case had occupied her for a few days. Three, it was; too long for her liking. She racked her brain trying to figure out how to find him again. And if she didn't, all she could do was hope he was the smarter of the two and would find her. 

Raphael. The corners of her mouth dared to smile a bit despite her current issue. That name suited him. 

It appeared that he'd lived a rough life in some capacity. There were scars on his face from God knew what, and he carried weapons and tough stride. Though, his colleagues were all a little different in appearance and gestures. Where did they rest their heads, she wondered. Not in a place like hers, clearly. And his clothes…

Yes, Raphael was gruff. But maybe just a little handsome, in a way—she blushed at the thought. You can't not remember that character. He looked like he could bench a truck. 

She'd lately been taking a cab home due to the incident, but there was only one place they could possibly convene: the alley. A dank, kinda dirty, rat-here-and-there kind of place. Or the rooftop, if she could even get up there.  Who wouldn't want to get to know their prince here, she thought sarcastically.

What do people usually do when they're getting to know their one true love? 

On the window sill her phone chimed twice, calling her over. She wandered to her window and gazed out. On the sidewalk below, a couple strode down the concrete, both holding a bag of takeout between them. And suddenly, she had an idea. 

Where exactly was that alley again? 

He jumped past one, thought it didn't look familiar and went on to the next. It was about the hour that they'd crossed paths and he felt rushed like he was running out of time, impatient as he was. Until his phone vibrated from his pocket and demanded his attention. 

The screen lit, Donnie's ID. He pursed his scarred lips and picked up. 

"Need some help?" asked Don in his cheeky way. Raph could see the smile across the phone.He'd been expecting some kind of nagging or squawking over his departure, but it was just Donnie trying to be helpful as usual. He would have to pay him back for the solid. 

"Sure," answered Raph. 

"Sending the location now. It should show up on your GPS. Oh, and don't worry about you-know-what." 

"Say what?"

Studying the address, he opened his mouth to speak, but Donatello was already cutting him off. "Gotta go, bye!"

"Don?" Raph said. The call ended and he stared at the address, puzzled. This was four blocks over and not where he remembered it to be. He wasn't that unobservant. It was the only real lead he had to go by, though, so he set off toward the new destination. 

He flipped over an AC unit and landed on the lip of a roof adjacent to the one that marked the tiny red dot on his phone, skidding to a stop at what he saw. 

Little candlelights littered around a blanket with white boxes and a couple of plates, the girl in question scuttling around trying to get things prepared. There was a container of some kind of sweet. Raph watched as she multiple times relit the same candle, only to have the breeze blow it out, followed by her anxious groan. She went back and forth with it until she gave up and fell back onto her rear. 

You're kidding me, Raph thought, scooting to cover. The whole display was a bit pitiful. Now he understood the mysterious address. But how did she know to come up there? Don't tell me Don contacted her? 

A typical dinner date with a mutant, stuck onto the top of a building to accommodate his...conditions. She didn't really think that was how it could go, right? That they could just sit down and have a meal together like nothing was wrong with that picture? It all seemed so wrong, too casual for what it was, false comfort. All of the candles went out and left her sitting alone in the dark, making her dig through her bag for her phone. 

She rubbed her forehead and leaned back onto her hands, looking all around her as if surveying the cityscape for something. Her foot was tapping more and more rapidly. Cracking open one of the boxes of takeout, notably, no steam rose. Raph felt a pang of pity.

It was awkward and he just couldn't understand the idea of hers, but never had anyone do anything like that for him. Not like I ever had 'em lined up to take me out to dinner. But after some consideration, for someone like him, he supposed that it was the thought that counted. It didn't make the approach any easier. He stepped out into sight and whistled curtly, holding up his hands as if to say he wasn't a threat. 

No, this ain't awkward or weird at all. Couldn't be, he mused with sarcasm. His long strides had him there a little quicker than he would have liked. He felt lumbering and intrusive.

"You're not serious, are ya?" he asked from the distance, eyeing the setup skeptically. She closed the gap between them as she fixed up everything and made it neat again. He waited for her to finish, shifting around on his feet.

She responded, "Your...brother told me to meet you up here. I don't even know how he got my number."

"He's got the means. And the fancy little dinner was his idea, too?" he snorted. 

Her face fell almost imperceptibly. Back it up, put it in reverse, he sighed to himself. Why was he like this? Why did he always have to say what he was thinking? 

"'Cause it just...seems like something...he'd do," he added reluctantly, wanting to wince. "That's Donatello for ya." A few uncomfortable seconds went by. He started to panic when she gave him a questioning look. "But I know he didn't, I'm just bein' an ass."

"You're not," she let a breath out, mustering a hesitant smile, "I know it's kind of stupid. I just thought that…" 

He rose a brow.

Sitting herself down on the blanket, she looked up at him, and his heart started to quicken. "You ever had takeout from here?" she asked in a soft tone, forcing a laugh. He knelt down rigidly. The whole thing was uncomfortably small for him. "I don't know what you guys eat in the sewers, but I figured that this was the least I could do. For us." 

He'd been opening up one of the boxes and inspecting the contents when his eyes went wide. "'Us'?" he parroted, dropping the  container and spilling some of the noodles. 

"No, no, no, not 'us' us, I meant as in, getting to know us, we—getting us to know each other," she stammered. "Sorry. No, that's not what I meant. I just thought it would somehow be less weird."

"You're sittin' across from a mutant turtle freak, don't you think that's weird?" he said. 

Raph could have let out a sigh of relief, but felt he wasn't out of the thick of it yet. 

He wasn't expecting the smile, the warm eyes. The "I don't think you're weird." he heard. 

Needing something to occupy himself with, he snatched one of the cans of cola and popped it open. Before he started to chug, he replied, "Sure, ya don't think I'm weird." 

"Okay, then I'm weird too," she said, tilting her head to catch his eye. He glugged the whole can of cola. 

"Oh, you're weird, alright," he chuffed as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "I mean, look at ya. Putting together all this so you can eat cold noodles with a giant turtle ya just met. Is this what you call 'fun'?"

"They'd still be warm if you'd gotten here earlier. And for the record, I am having fun," she said, dipping into her own food. "Come on, eat, Raphael. Please." 

He started to refute it, tried to get his guard back in place again, but his mind couldn't find the words. How badly he wanted to say "you're not having fun, you're just tolerating me," or "you're kidding yourself".

After a moment of squirming and trying to find something to bite back with, he picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. "Nah," he finally said. Then mumbled, "No way." 

"Way," she chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. Raph shook his head. 

A silence befell them. The self-consciousness was somehow worse when he was only being observed, which he knew by the gaze he could feel on himself past the chopsticks feeding noodles into his mouth. She can't possibly like what she sees. Get real. I'm gross. 

"Can you stop your starin'?" he eventually snapped, narrowly avoiding crushing the takeout box on the concrete beneath them. "Didn't your mom or whatever ever tell you that's rude?" 

It was pretty dark around them, but between talking and eating, she'd managed to keep a few of the candles lit. The warm glow it casted on her face didn't miss him, neither did her sheepish expression that held the possibility of a blush. She uttered an apology and averted her eyes. She couldn't have been looking upon him with any kind of joy. That's what Raph truly believed, at least. So why did it feel bad?

"I think I just can't stop looking at you, Raphael, truth be told," she said. His heart did skip that time. Oh, how he hated yielding.

He narrowed his eyes, "Whaddya mean?" 

"You've got a lot of scars," she mumbled, leaning in. Without the disgust he'd imagined she would. "And your eyes are pretty." 

"Pretty?" he scoffed. He was getting up, now. She scrambled onto her feet as well and reached out, just missing his arm. 

He'd yanked his arm away. She corrected herself, "They're not like anything I've seen!" 

Well, you don't have any business looking at me that close. 

"(Y/N)." 

Her smile left. He stood square before her as if on display. But his brow ridges were furrowed in, creating the intimidating visage she recognized as the first thing she'd ever seen of him. "What?" she asked. 

Motioning to all the stuff at their feet, he questioned, "What's all this for, really?"

"I–I don't think I understand." 

"You, doin' all this. Over some silly birthmark?" he pressed. "I can't figure out what's goin' on in your head and it makes me—" 

She interrupted him. He went still as she slowly took his hand and balled his shaking hand, cupping it in hers. Lightly trembling, not from anger, not from fear. Those trepidatious shakes he'd felt many times before, but never with another person. Never like that.

 "Confused? Mad?" she finished for him. All the words he couldn't quite find found themselves in the flutter of his stomach. They were caught on his tongue. 

She was wrong. That wasn't it. "No," he could finally say, his voice low. "I don't know."

It took two of her hands to wrap fully around one of his, but she wouldn't let go. Raph wouldn't dream of trying to tear away from her delicate grip. "Do you think we can figure it out together, then?" she inquired softly. 

"I...I don't—" 

Lifting his hefty hand, she planted a light kiss on his knuckle, feeling the rough skin on her lips. Raph was absolutely stunned and could not move. 

"I hope this tells you all you need to know," she stated, drawing away. Her back turned to him. The longest ten seconds of his life passed and he only regained the ability to move once she started to walk back to the stairwell, lunging forward to grab her shoulder before she caught the door. Careful to not hurt her.

Turning her around to him, he swallowed, "We ain't had dessert yet."

Raph never wanted to stop seeing her eyes shine like they did. 

He prompted them to sit down this time, his hand running down her arm as he leaned back. Even then he was too shocked to smile, or make any other face, for that matter. She simply smiled at him. 

"Right. Dessert," she winked. 

In the end, Raph still couldn't totally shake his  tough shell off. But he suddenly had the patience to try, just maybe, a lopsided grin forming as she divided the cake. 

"...and two for you, because you're a big guy…" 

He let her continue for a moment before getting closer. "Ya know, think I want to get to know ya without these stupid birthmarks, (Y/N)," said Raph with a smile that he didn't bother to hide. She glanced up at him, wondering. "So let's do it over again. I'm Raphael, but it's Raph to you." 

Taking her focus off the cake, she slid his plate to him. "Without the marks?" 

"Forget about 'em. We're strangers." 

She laughed sweetly, "Then I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Raph." 

After that, they shook on it over dessert, and marked the night that the walls Raphael had put up began to crack.

[divine-mistake]

virtue and vice

Summary: What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-size (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (vaginal fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, bit of a Dom Bucky Barnes), language, insecurity (weight issues, a little perceived fatphobia which is wiped out really soon after)

Word Count: 6120

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested a Bucky/Plus-sized reader enemies to lovers who have to share one bed with smut. I loved this request and really hot to make something hot and rough and fast! Thank you so much for the request - enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

It finally happened, the one thing you prayed would never ever happen, the thing you’ve been dreading since you started joining James Buchanan Barnes on his stealth missions, the event that will inevitably spark your downward spiral into doom, destroying the crumbs of the relationship you’ve managed to build with him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, barreling through the motel room like a ping pong ball with a little too much pent up energy.

You shrug your bag off your tired shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, not caring about how dirty the carpeting must be.

“At least it’s a queen,” you say, toeing off your boots. “I’ve had worse with Steve.”

Bucky turns to glare at you over his shoulder. “You’ve shared a bed with Steve?” he says, accusation rising in his tone. You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry—are you saying you haven’t? ‘Cause I call bullshit on that.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to sift through his duffel bag instead. You shrug despite the fact that he can’t see you.

“I mean, it’s pretty routine, isn’t it? I’ve shared with Natasha, too. Sometimes you just have to make do.”

“Yeah but it’s Natasha,” he says like it matters. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with Steve.”

“God, Bucky, it’s only weird if you make it weird, and you’re making it weird.”

He straightens now, body stiff, one of his hidden holsters hanging from his vibranium hand. He doesn’t look at you and you’re too tired to start a fight—much less finish it—so you hope he just goes ahead and fucks off to the shower which you know he’s getting ready to do. He’s always been selfish like that. But it’s also not so selfish, you think, for someone like Bucky to want to wash the missions away as soon as possible.

But the bastard could ask sometimes, couldn’t he?

“I’m going first,” he says, just like always, and you bite your tongue.

“‘Kay.”

You turn and sigh, focusing your glare on the one bed filling the motel room. If there was one thing you always hoped for after a mission, it was not to end up in the same bed as James Barnes. The two of you notoriously don’t get along, for whatever reason that may be (although you’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that he thinks you’re a useless addition to the team), but there is literally no denying the attraction you felt for him.

The man is hot, and he’s had a couple, or maybe most, of the screws in his head knocked loose.

You have it bad for him.

Oh, but James Barnes is not fond of you. Not that he would ever admit it, but the dude has some serious fatphobia going on. You’re ninety-nine-percent sure of that.

Alone in the bedroom, you start to strip out of your tac-suit, letting your gun belt and the rest of your holsters fall in a ring around your feet. As soon as the heaviness is off you, relieving some of the ache in your body, you think about just falling straight into the bed blood and dirt and grime and all. But you’re also sure Bucky would lose his mind if you did that.

Instead, you look to the floor length mirror just in front of the motel door, frowning.

Your skin-tight suit doesn’t do much to hide all the lumps and bumps and dips and hips all squished into it, and when you’re covered in tiny cuts and burns on every visible patch of skin, you can’t help but think about how Bucky sees you.

The useless fat Avenger! How fun.

You turn to the side a little, glancing at the fullness of your ass. Nice. A redeeming quality of the extra weight you carry atop the strong muscle you’ve built in your short time as part of the Superhero Menagerie. Not having a gimmick of any kind really forced you into working for the position—and now you’re not just the useless fat chick, you’re the super hacking, super gun toting, mega-badass fat Avenger instead.

The shower squeaks and the water stops, signaling the end of Bucky’s shower.

You look up to the ceiling, praying to some god to hear you that everything will work out just fine.

And then Bucky exits the bathroom, steam flooding from the room, wrapped only in a thinning motel towel secured by his metal hand at his waist. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen his chiseled figure, but there’s something that jumps up your throat at the thought that you have to shower in that same shower and then sleep in the same bed as the bed that body is sleeping in.

Oh, fuck.

“All yours,” he murmurs, not even looking at you.

“Great.” You grab your change of clothes and head for the bathroom, trying to think about anything except him.

When you smell less like blood and asbestos and more like strawberries and peaches, hair damp and a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts sticking to your heat-splotched body, you enter the bedroom once again. Bucky is sitting against the headboard, going through his phone now that you’re both safe and secure in France, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants.

Okay, act cool. Just get into bed and pretend like it’s not weird.

You pad over to the bed, grimacing at the feel of the gross carpet beneath your clean feet, hopping beneath the sheets as quick as possible. If Bucky looks at you, then you don’t see it, because you are focused solely on not looking at him. Petty? Perhaps. Keeping your sanity intact? Absolutely.

“You tired?” he asks and you snort.

“Extremely. You don’t have to turn off the light if you aren’t ready to sleep, though.” You situate yourself as far on the edge of the bed as possible—something you’ve never done with any of the other people you’ve been forced to share a bed with. You and Natasha aren’t new to sleeping together, especially after some of the nights out you’ve shared, but you and Steve definitely cuddled, though you wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Steve’s just kinda lonely, you think. And to be honest, you’re a little touch-starved yourself.

But you know you take up a lot of space and you’re sure Bucky hates that, so you bury yourself under the motel sheets and snuggle up to your pillow, trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible.

After a moment, Bucky asks, “Are you comfortable like that?”

You crack an eye open and twist to look at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t you tell me not to make it weird? You’re making it weird now.”

“You already made it weird.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird anymore.”

“A little late for that—”

“God, just, c’mere.”

Bucky grabs you around your waist, your shirt riding up, and pulls you closer. You shriek in surprise, eyes wide, as he manhandles you until you’re away from the edge and your back is pressed against his bare chest.

“There—that’s better,” he says, nearly whispering in your ear he’s so close to you now. He unwinds his arm from your middle and reaches up to hit the light, the room going completely dark save for the little sliver of artificially light pouring in from underneath the shitty curtains.

You don’t even know what to say. Bucky’s rendered you completely speechless.

First of all, the man has never touched you for no reason like that before. Second of all, how the hell did he just move you like you weighed the same as the pillow beneath his head? Third of all, he hates you, so why is he so bothered about you and your comfort? Fourth, he just moved you around like you weighed literally nothing.

And boy, did it send a flood of pleasure straight to your core, almost as if your body just gave the green light to your libido. The perfect time too, y’know, when you’re sharing a bed with your co-worker who hates your guts.

Play it cool. Just play it fucking cool.

“Uh, are you okay?” you ask him in return, and Bucky shifts so his back is pressed up to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay. Good night.”

“Night.”

What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Your brain turns and turns and turns, body straining to stay as still as possible to not upset the super soldier sleeping right beside you. What does he have against you? Why does he hate you so much? You really thought once you started going on more missions—proving you were worthy to be a part of the team—that he’d start coming around and seeing your value. But you feel like all it’s served is to make him hate you more, especially now that you tag along on his stealth operations as his techie.

Maybe he knows you’re into him, and maybe that’s why he never wants to be around you. But, god, it’s not like you think you have a chance with him in any capacity, and you’d pass up tens of thousands of chances to be with him if he’d just be your friend!

Because Bucky deserves another friend, doesn’t he?

As if he can read your mind—or maybe it’s just god playing tricks on you—Bucky shifts around in the bed again, turning toward you. You don’t know if he’s sleeping yet or not, but you curl in on yourself a little to give him more space to stretch out.

Bucky’s vibranium arm slides over your waist, cool metal grazing by the sliver of skin peeking out from underneath your shirt, and when you flinch from it, he pulls you flush against him. Behind you, the bare skin of his chest is warm, almost too hot. Super soldiers run warmer than normal humans, and you think he’d be nice to have in bed more often.

In your ear, Bucky groans in his sleep and it makes you shiver despite the heat radiating through your back. He must be like Steve, wanting to cuddle in his sleep. No one ever wants to admit it out loud, but you’re the best thing to cuddle in the Tower. Being squishy and soft atop hard, strong muscle means you’re more comfortable than all the rigid bodies of the Avengers. Maybe Bucky needs this.

But you wish you could fall asleep so you’ll stop thinking about how much you’ve wanted this since the day you saw him, the new Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, hair tied up in a messy bun and stubble thick and dark, vibranium arm hidden within the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, everything is too hot. The room, the motel sheets, the pillow beneath your head. Bucky Barnes behind you, arm slung over your body, holding you to him. He’s sleeping, you know, the quiet rumble of his breathing a song in your ear, chest rising and falling against your back. You shift a little, trying to get more comfortable as the warmth starts to become unbearable. When that doesn’t help, you shift again, trying to pull your back away from Bucky, but it sends your bottom half straight into his.

A growl brushes by your ear all breathy and low and Bucky’s arm tightens around you, bringing you back to him.

Damn, who knew Bucky was such a cuddler when he’s sleeping?

You wait a few minutes, keeping still, until you’re sure he’s slipped back into unconsciousness. His nose is nearly pressed into your hair, his breaths upsetting the small wisps of hairs that curl at your ear. Sweat is starting to collect underneath your shirt where your bodies are connected and you know you’ll never be able to fall asleep like this.

Again, you shift toward the edge of the bed, trying to pull yourself out of Bucky’s grasp, but he drags you back into his embrace. The swell of your ass meets his thigh and in a panic, you move around to try and put space between the two of you again, but Bucky lets out a strangled-sounding groan, hissing through his teeth.

“You gotta stop moving, doll, or you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

He is not asleep.

“Bucky?” you squeak, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Hm?” His metal hand sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your soft skin and thumb starting to rub little circles just above your hip, a point of pleasure on your body. No one ever touches you here, and it takes everything you have not to press back into him, asking for more. Your breathing is heavier now as you try to control yourself.

“You aren’t—Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, sounding winded from the simplest act of him touching you.

“Hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” he murmurs in your ear, nose brushing up against the patch of skin behind it. Your eyes flutter closed. Every small touch feels like heaven. You never allow others to touch you more than necessary, but now Bucky is handling you so gently.

“I can’t sleep either,” you whisper. “Do you want me to go? I can take a walk.”

He makes a noise of disapproval. “Just stay still,” he says, almost begging. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “You’re too hot.”

You can feel him smirk into the back of your neck. “You don’t gotta tell me, doll.”

“Shut up,” you say with a huff of frustration, wiggling in the bed to get your point across. Immediately, Bucky’s vibranium hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough for the flash of pain to turn to pleasure, holding you still.

“I said stop moving,” he says, and it's so close to a command that your teeth tear into your bottom lip as his voice sends shocks through your core. Now, hyperaware of how close your bodies are underneath the sheets, you realize your ass is pressed against his pelvis, not his thigh, and you’ve definitely been—

Bucky grinds into you, seething, breath ghosting over your ear, his cock hard and heavy in his sweatpants.

Wetness pools between your thighs, dampening the thin cotton panties you wear beneath your sleep shorts.

“Bucky,” you breathe his name. “What are you doing?”

“So tired of you teasin’ me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’ve put up with it for so long—too long—and I just knew you were gonna do it tonight, too. Only one fucking bed. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

Your voice sounds so small when you whisper, “What are you talking about?”

Then Bucky lays a kiss to the back of your neck, trailing upward until he reaches the lobe of your ear, and pulls it into his mouth and between his teeth. You shiver, violently, unable to stop the reaction. It must please him because he yanks your hips back into him again, forcing you to grind on his bulge.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sounds threaten to fall from your lips.

“Doll, you’ve been teasin’ me from the beginning. From the moment I saw you in your gear on the Berlin mission, all your curves on display in that tight little cat-suit you’re always wearing, armed to the teeth, handling all those guns looking so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You swallow hard. The Berlin mission, your first stealth mission with Bucky, had gone sour and the two of you found yourselves in a gun fight that was never meant to happen. You’re pretty sure you walked back onto the quinjet covered in blood, bruised, and a gash in your thigh that made you wobble when you stood up, and Bucky didn’t even look at you as per usual. Bucky never looks at you on missions unless he absolutely has to.

Wait.

“Is that why you never look at me?” you ask him, and you wish you could see his face right now, but all you can feel is his lips as they pepper kisses along the column of your throat, coaxing shudders and little squeaks out of you.

“You expect me to look at you without wanting to jump your bones, doll?” His nose caresses the spot at the top of your spine, his fingers melting at your hip and soothing the bruises you’re sure he’s already left. “That’s just askin’ too much, baby. How am I supposed to look at you and stop myself from kissin’ you silly?”

Pleasure flutters through your stomach, surging through the apex of your thighs.

“Then do it,” you tell him. Bucky goes still, unmoving, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too hard.

But then his voice is low, dark, in your ear. “You don’t know what you’re saying, doll.”

The honey dripping from your center, pooling in your underwear, says very differently. Instead of answering, you press your ass back into him, gyrating your hips straight upon his pelvis, rubbing against his clothed cock. Bucky chokes.

And then he’s up and above you, rolling your body beneath him, caging you between his arms. You nearly gasp when you look up at him, his blue eyes intense in a way you’ve never seen them before, his lips pink and swollen from biting—you’re sure yours look the same and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

Bucky leans closer, his mouth only inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut in anticipation but you force yourself to look at him, to take all of him in.

“If you want this, I won’t be able to hold myself back, doll. Wanted you too long. Need you.”

Then, he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“But if you don’t,” he swallows, “then we’ll forget this ever happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Fuck that.

“Kiss me, sergeant,” you command, hand shooting up to tangle in his thick hair.

Bucky curses and then he’s on you before you have a chance to reach up and meet him halfway. His lips are rough, chapped, but plush and perfect against yours. He wastes no time, tongue licking into your mouth and meeting yours, tasting you for the first time. You respond eagerly, hand fisting in his hair, pulling him into you until you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins.

When he’s satisfied with how kiss-drunk you look, lips swollen and eyes hazy, he moves to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, causing you to cry out. The pain and the pleasure mingle, like lovers, like you and Bucky, as his fingers take hold of your shirt and in one tug, the fabric pulls apart at the seams.

You don’t care—you can buy a new shirt. You need him to touch you.

Until you realize you aren’t wearing a bra and that your top half is completely bare to Bucky, the man who, before a minute ago, you thought hated you because you were fat. Because it was the only explanation you had. Because you’re insecure.

Your hands fall upon his chest, bracing against him, stopping him in his tracks. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, brows drawn together in confusion, and all you can do is try and cover yourself with your arms before he gets a peek. It’s dark, but super soldiers can see in the dark. A blessing and a curse.

“I don’t want you to look at me,” you whisper so quietly you realize no normal person would have been able to hear it. “I’m—I shouldn’t have let you—I’m so fat, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes you, his flesh hand coming up to cradle your cheek, fingers brushing delicately over your skin. “You don’t believe me when I say I want to see you? Doll, your body drives me insane, and god, every time you get an attitude with me and you put your hands on your hips and you look at me all mad…”

Bucky groans and he rocks his pelvis into yours, hard cock hitting your center and making your breath hitch.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes ‘cause you’re just so pretty? More than pretty, I don’t even know the words to tell you, baby. Please, please don’t hide yourself from me, let me look at you, let me touch you, baby. S’all I want to do is look at you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s thumb swipes a tear away and you blink, and he’s smiling at you so warmly, really looking at you, maybe for the first time ever since you’ve known him.

“You think so?” you ask, breathless. “Even though you’re so—so good, Bucky, so beautiful and so good.”

He rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your soul. You nuzzle into his palm, kissing the center of his skin where his lifeline sits among other small scars. Then, you pull your arms away from your body, moving to wrap them around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as you tip your chin up to slant your mouth over his. Bucky returns your enthusiasm, tongue meeting yours sweetly, and then metal fingers are trailing up your side.

Bucky pulls away, searching your eyes for consent.

“Say you’re mine,” he begs. “Say you’re mine, baby, but if you do, I won’t be gentle.”

You look up at him from underneath your lashes, already heady with the feeling of Bucky wanting you, desiring every part of you.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, and the mood in the room shifts violently.

In an instant, Bucky pulls your arms away from where they’re wound around his neck and pins them over your head, metal fingers locked around both your wrists. It makes you arch into him and then his nose is tracing your sternum, a line down your center, cutting you in half until his flesh hand attaches to your breast and his lips find your nipple.

Just like he said, he’s not gentle, and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, lids fluttering, as his teeth nip and tug at the delicate bud. His tongue follows the performance, sucking and soothing the pain away with sweet licks until he’s bored and moves onto the other one.

He lifts his head up to say, “Don’t move your hands,” and then his vibranium fingers find the hardened, sensitive nub and begin to twist and pull at it as his lips play with the other. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain is a shocking reminder of who is playing your body like a symphony. You arch your breasts toward him, you roll your hips up to meet his bulge, you do anything you can to relieve the pressure that’s building in your core, screaming at you that you need his touch.

“Bucky,” you call out, moaning, struggling to keep your hands near the headboard.

“Do you need more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you beg and press your center up to rub his cock. “It aches,” you whine.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me touch you? Let me make the pain go away, baby?”

His words send new waves of pleasure through you, every part of you flushing with heat, your thighs squeezing together as if you can hide your leaking core from him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky.”

He lays kisses on the underside of your breasts, just below them, like he’s following the lines of your ribs as he moves down toward your stomach—the part of you that you hate the most. You struggle underneath him.

“Not there,” you say as he places open-mouthed kisses on your soft belly. It tickles and makes you tremble and writhe.

He chuckles darkly. “I thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” Both hands fall upon your hips, trapping you, fingers digging into your soft, pliant flesh as he nuzzles and licks and nips and kisses your stomach. You throw your head back, dizzy at the thought of what your body will look like tomorrow, purpled bruises made of passion.

“I’m a good girl,” you pant, mouth falling open as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Then let me touch you, doll. All of you—I want all of you.”

You hear the sound of fabric ripping before you feel the cool air rush over where your sleep shorts are no longer, Bucky tosses the tatters of fabric over the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply at the sight of you, hands roaming over the wide breadth of your hips as if he can’t even draw himself away, smoothing over your stretch marks with loving strokes until he finds the thick expanse of your bare thighs.

Bucky’s thumb brushes over your clothed cunt, panties drenched, and a strangled moan flies from your mouth as you press toward him, begging for more.

“This all for me?” he asks, voice gravelly. “My pretty baby is all wet like this for me? Christ, doll, you’re dripping.”

“Yes!” you shout as metal fingers hook around your underwear to rip them off, parting your lips to watch your slick seep from your aching core. “It’s all for you, Bucky, all of it.”

He groans at this. “Good girl,” he praises you. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you, your juices soaking his hand almost immediately, and pumps into you like his life depends on it. The pleasure is too much, and when his thumb finds your clit and begins to slide over it, your knees try to close out of instinct, hips canting away from the pleasure. Bucky growls and wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you close, baring your naked body to him and him alone.

“You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, so fucking hot you can’t do anything but gasp for breath. “You’re sucking my fingers in, baby. So tight. Gotta work you open or you’re never gonna be able to take my cock, honey.”

You whimper his name, hips twitching under his grasp, crying out as every stroke of his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. When he adds a third, you think you might die from the mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Been teasin’ me too long, and now you’ve gotta take it all, baby.”

He drives his fingers inside and hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you and it breaks you apart, tears you asunder, you’re arching off the bed and Bucky holds his thumb on your clit as you undulate upon his fingers. You can feel the gush of come that trickles down his thick fingers, and then he pulls out and places them in his mouth, licking your honey from the digits as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack through you.

And when you can finally open your eyes, vision hazy, Bucky is looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust, licking your juice from his lips, grinning.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises again and the fire of pleasure and want and need ignites.

“Need you,” you whine, “right now, please, please sergeant.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You don’t know what you do to me when you say that, doll.”

You definitely know what you do to him, and you’re gonna keep saying it and saying it until he’s yours, forever, until the end, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you could die happy.

Staring up at him, your face flushed, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and spread among the motel pillows, you think you might be in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Need me to fuck you, baby? Fuck, you drive me so fuckin’ crazy. I’m crazy about you, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect, so soft, so beautiful.” Bucky’s hands touch every part of you, even the places you hate. He finds the soft rolls of fat you try to work off at the gym, finds the squishy parts of your upper arms you think look unsightly when you’re hacking into HYDRA’s systems, fingers flying over the keyboard. He passes over your stubbly legs, a little sharp from three days of not shaving while on the mission, he caresses the dimples of cellulite in the backs of your thighs you hate so much.

And then he pushes the waistband of his sweats down and kicks his pants off, his cock exposed and standing attention all red at the tip and thick and hard and hot, and his hands slide underneath your thighs and press you up until you’re angled to take him.

He hesitates though, you feel it. And god, you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck me, sergeant,” you beg so prettily, and Bucky growls.

His hips snap into yours, cock sliding through your walls, parting you for him, splaying you open, stretching you, burning you, he’s everything. Bucky gives you one second to adjust and then he’s moving within you, the pain blurring into pleasure, your head thrown back, keening, moaning, crying out, nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hisses, sweat dripping down his temple as he rams into you over and over and over. “Give it to me, baby. You feel so good.”

“Harder,” you manage in between your shrieks and moans and Bucky answers your call with a response. He drags you toward him until your hips are attached to his, connected, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, the darkest parts of you, and you sob as the new angle makes you feel every single drag of his length. The head of his cock pierces you, smashing against the spot that makes you keen, and the pressure is building up within you again.

Bucky’s fingers find purchase in the plush flesh that sits on your hips, dragging down until he’s digging into your thick thighs, the sharp pain a beacon cutting through the haze of pleasure you’re locked in as he fucks you. It’s building, building, building, pressure, building.

“Come for me,” he snarls, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like he can feel how close you are. And for the second time, your body is shattered and your orgasm breaks like a wave crashing against the shore, swallowing you whole until you’re lost in everything that is Bucky.

You scream his name, legs tightening around him like you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, and his words are lost on you.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s my good girl, coming so sweet around my cock, god you feel so good baby, so tight, such a good little girl.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you whine as your slick slips out of you, his cock coated in your essence, smearing it against your inner thighs. But it doesn’t last that long. With an immediacy that turns you on—he wants you, he wants you so bad—Bucky grabs you and flips you over, putting you on your hands and knees. His palm forces your head down, back bowing until you’re arched with your ass upturned, face smashed into the pillows.

“God,” he groans, “this fuckin’ ass of yours, baby. It gets me in so much trouble, d’ya know that? You don’t even know how many times I’ve caught myself watching the way your ass swings when you walk, like y’gotta purpose, like you don’t even know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

Bucky’s hands round over your ass, caressing them gently, then grabbing fistfuls of your flesh until you’re crying out once again. It makes you lean back into him, trying to seek out the pleasure of him, wiggling as if you can entice him to stuff you with his cock again.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathes, and then he gives your right cheek a slap that makes you shriek, laying a kiss on it just after to soothe the pain.

“Please sergeant,” you gasp. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me again.”

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asks, smug. “I just fucked you ‘till you came around me, baby. You need me to do it again?”

It’s humiliating, but your words are jumbled as you cry and beg and cry and beg for him to take you again. You need him. You need him to fuck you. You need Bucky Barnes to do anything and everything to you.

He leans over you, breath hot on the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, again and again and again.”

And then he slams back into you, the angle so much deeper this time, cock hitting the back of your cunt like he was made for you—like you were made for him.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but drool into the pillow as he takes you from behind like a wild animal. The sounds that pour from your open lips are heady and strung together, making no sense, but Bucky knows what you need. He fucks you raw, fucks you hard, fucks you until you know you’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up.

When his thrusts become sloppy, Bucky takes his vibranium hand and searches for your clit, making you cry out. It’s too much—the overstimulation. You’re too sensitive, too exhausted, too fucked out to take the pleasure anymore. But you clench around him, the sloppy sounds of your wet heat taking Bucky as he pounds into you making you flush, and the coil in your stomach is tightening.

“Give it to me,” Bucky commands, ramming into you impossibly harder, fingers sliding over your slick clit. “Give it to me, baby.”

You whine his name and Bucky’s free hand smacks your ass again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the sound of him fucking you.

“You said you’d be good,” he grits through his teeth. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“You’re a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my good girl?”

“Yes, sergeant, yes!”

“Then give it to me. Come, baby, come for me, one more time.”

And like that, you come apart, knees collapsing beneath you. Bucky catches you in his arms, thrusting once, twice more, and then buries himself so far inside of you that you barely feel his hot seed spurt inside of you, coating your insides.

You fall to the bed and Bucky follows, pulling out of you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest in the very position that started this all. He peppers kisses over the expanse of your shoulders, behind your ear, and then turns you until he can connect his lips to yours. Bucky kisses you like he means it, like he wants it to last forever.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your mouth, then he’s off the bed and headed for the bathroom. You lay there in bliss, staring up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, unable to think of anything but the pleasure and exhaustion that make up your body right now. When Bucky returns, he has a ratty washcloth in hand and he uses it to clean between your legs. It’s warm and he’s gentle, leaving you shivering when he’s finished.

When he climbs back in bed, he tucks a piece of your matted hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, one last time, and it makes you smile. “My good girl,” he murmurs as he kisses you again.

“Yours?” You look up at him, blinking innocently.

“Mine.” Bucky lays your head upon his bare chest. “All mine.”

You fall asleep before him to the sound of his breathing, sharing the same bed with your co-worker Bucky Barnes, who you really think you might be in love with, especially as he strokes your hair so softly until your eyes fall, heavy.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia @kitkatd7 @mimiswitchywrites @tripleyeeet @allidoiswritewritewrite

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

[fivelakesinwriting]

can you do a barry one where you’re rafe and sarah’s sister and you’ve been sneaking barry into your room every night while you’re home from college bc your friends with benefits but when ward goes to give barry the money that rafe owes him he says something like “why don’t you ask your daughter who’s she’s been sneaking into her room every night. so ward comes home pissed to wake you up and ask you about it so you go to barry’s house and confront him and it leads to smut

Author's Notes: I wrote her as the Littlest Cameron from Ward's first marriage - because I kinda love that idea. All characters are 18+

Warnings: OBX Spoilers - Only for Season 1 (I assume we've all been there done that..) Swearing, Mentions of drugs/ drug debt, Guns, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smutty.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

For almost six weeks he had been sneaking into her bedroom at night, completely unseen to anyone. Not even the boy who spent the majority of his days on his couch, passed out or begging for a fix.

This time it was his turn to beg.

He crawled through the window - left open like always for him - and tossed his legs through in to her bedroom. He grunted when her body collided with his in the dark, sending him backwards towards the wall.

"We said 11pm. It's 11:17pm." She mumbled as she pressed on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Sorry. Got wrapped up in some shit. Thought I forgot?" He smirked as he hitched at the waist to wrap his arms around her, reciprocating her affection.

"Yes." She whispered into his shoulder as her fingertips curled into the material of his coveralls.

Barry only lifted her up in response, always amazed that a girl with a brother the size of Rafe Cameron could be so tiny. He carried her over to her bed and laid her on her back, crawling on top of her to take up the space between her thighs. He placed feather-light kisses down her neck, a smile on his face as she pulled at his coveralls.

"Hey, Tiny. I need to borrow some fucking cash. You don't still have that stupid piggy bank or some shit - what the fuck is this?" Rafe came stomping into her bedroom without knocking and flicked the lights on, his hands pushing all the trinkets and books off her dresser as he searched.

"Rafe, what the fuck! Knock first, asshole!" She screamed as she tossed a decorative pillow off her bed and towards her older brother who stood dumbfounded on the other side of her bedroom.

"The fuck is this? Why is he here?" Rafe questioned as he pointed his index finger at the older man on top of his younger sister.

"What's up, Country Club?" Barry smirked as he turned his face to look at Rafe, as if he weren't on top of his little sister.

"T.C, he has to leave. Now. I'm fucking serious." Rafe grumbled with a stern look, a pinch of his nostrils and then exited her bedroom with a slam of the door.

"T.C?" Barry grinned as he propped himself up on his arms above her and looked down at her embarrassed face.

"Tiny Cameron." She sighed as she pressed one hand to his lower back and the other to her forehead.

"That's cute. Shit's real cute. He take money from you a lot?" Barry asked as he leaned his weight on one forearm to run his fingertips over his top lip.

"Not a lot. Sometimes. Mostly takes it from dad, but he asks for money a lot more often now. I'm assuming it's to pay you." She replied softly.

"Some of it. Your brother got a nice new bike out there and he still runnin' up a tab with me, so..." Barry trailed as he placed his hand back down beside her on the bed.

"Don't get me started on that stupid dirt bike." She sighed as she rolled her head back on the sheets.

"Listen, I'm gonna go. I can hear him pacing outside that fucking door. But don't let him take your money, T.C." Barry winked before he gave her a quick kiss on her lips and pulled himself off the bed, heading back towards the window.

"Fuck you, Barry." She whined with a pout, sitting up on the bed to watch him leave.

"Next time." He grinned, flashing her his gold tooth.

*

It had been close to one week since the night Rafe had caught Barry in his little sister's room, and since then his debt had grown exponentially. Rafe felt overwhelmed and reckless as he entered the combination to his father's wall safe. Perhaps that's why he got caught.

"Dad, I swear I learned my lesson. Okay? Let's not do this. Please." Rafe begged from the front seat of his father's S.U.V as they idled out front of Barry's house.

"Stay in the car." Ward ordered as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

Ward Cameron walked up the dirt path, lit by the lights of his vehicle and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He saw the young man sitting at the fire pit, a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Are you Barry?" He called as he opened his wallet and began to count the bills.

"Might be. You lost?" Barry asked as he took a swig of the whiskey in his hand and looked over the clean cut older man standing a few feet in front of him.

"No. My son Rafe owes you money. I'm here to pay his tab." Ward replied with a shake of his head as he pulled out the wad of cash, and folded it in half.

"Big Daddy Cameron, huh?" Barry smirked as he stood up from his chair and took a few steps towards Ward.

"That should cover it. Don't sell my son drugs anymore." Ward growled as he tossed the cash on the ground at Barry's feet and turned to walk away.

"Got no problem not selling drugs to your delinquent son. But it's your daughter who might have a problem staying away from me." Barry replied his stance strong as he watched Ward Cameron stop dead in his tracks, his back rigid.

"Sarah?" Ward asked as he turned around, his eyes wide as he looked the dealer up then down.

"You forget you have more than one daughter, don't you? Talking about the little one. Think Rafe calls her...T.C?" Barry replied as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Ward Cameron ran a shaky hand over his beard as he continued to stare at Barry. He turned to leave, but changed his mind and stalked back over to him, and stood directly in front of the shorter man.

"Stay away from my family. My son and especially my daughter." Ward growled a finger pressed into Barry's chest before he turned on his heel and stomped back towards the S.U.V.

"Big Daddy Cameron." Barry scoffed with a shake of his head as he crouched down to pick up the bills on the ground. He knew he had just lit a match under the Cameron patriarch, but he was fine with it.

Back at Tannyhill Rafe walked quickly into the house and up the stairs, his head hung low as he blinked back tears. He walked passed each of his sisters' rooms towards his own, stopping at the one of the left.

"T.C, better gear up. Dad knows about Barry. He's coming upstairs. Fire is lit." Rafe grumbled with a sniff and then made his way towards his bedroom with a slam of his door.

"What do you mean dad knows about - Hi, daddy." She mumbled as she scrambled off the bed after her brother, only to be met in the doorway by a livid Ward Cameron.

"How long?" Ward asked as he tried to keep his voice even, despite the way his body shook with pure anger. He had one daughter running around on The Cut, a son stealing from him to pay for his drug habit, and now his other daughter - his baby - was sleeping with that drug dealer.

What had he done wrong?

"Since I got home from school. Rafe introduced us at a party." She replied softly, avoiding her father's gaze.

"Are you snorting that shit like Rafe is?" Ward asked, his voice just a whisper and terrified.

"No, dad. I'm not. I swear. It's not like that with Barry. He likes me. He likes me a lot, and we're just hanging out together." She replied quickly as she reached for her father, her hands on his wrists that hung at his sides.

"But you're sleeping with him." Ward scoffed with a glare down at her. So tiny. Just like her mother. Everything about her reminded him of his first wife.

"I...I mean, yes. We're sleeping together. I go and visit him, and he comes over here sometimes." She nodded with a squeeze of his wrists.

"T.C, he comes here? To my house?" Ward glared down at his daughter.

"Dad, I -"

"I can't look at you right now." Ward grumbled as he pulled his wrists from her grip, rubbed his face and walked out of her bedroom, down the hall to his office.

"Shit." She whispered, pushing her hands through her hair. She walked back into her room, over to her desk and grabbed her bag. She walked over to her window, slid it open as quietly as she could and climbed out.

The knock at Barry's door was a surprise. He was expecting no visitors. He slowly raised his body up from the tattered couch, grabbed his gun from the waistband of his pants and walked cautiously to the front door.

"What you want?" He yelled, gun raised.

"It's me, you ass." Her sad voice sobbed back with a slam of her fist against the door once again.

"Fuck." Barry sighed as he reached for the several locking mechanisms on his door and let her in.

"What the fuck did you say to my dad!" She cried with a push of his strong chest.

Barry stood in the doorway and took each hit to the chest. He knew he may have overstepped a boundary or two that night, telling Ward Cameron he was sleeping with his daughter. But, he didn't like to have people come up to his home uninvited, telling him what to do and who to see. So he bit back.

"Stop. Listen to me. He came over here with your brother in the car, tossed money at me and told me to stop selling to Rafe." Barry muttered as he grabbed her wrists then held them against his chest to keep her close.

"And what did you say?" She struggled in his arms and looked up at him with those eyes that were all Cameron. He wished he didn't like them so much.

"I told him that was fine, but he might have an issue keeping his little girl out of my bed." Barry replied with a slight smirk, his gold tooth taking hold of his bottom lip.

"That isn't funny, Barry." She pouted up at him as she struggled to pull her wrists from his grip.

"It's a little funny."

"My dad is livid, Barry! Rafe is holed up in bedroom doing and thinking who knows what. And I - " She pulled her wrists from his grasp and stepped into his small home, beginning to pace.

"They ain't an issue for you anymore. Rafe's tab is paid, and now Big Daddy Cameron knows about us. So, I don't know what's got your panties in such a twist. But you should take them off if they're bothering you so much." Barry muttered as he ran his fingertips over his top lip, and leaned against the door frame as he watched her.

"No. I'm mad at you." She whispered as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"Nipples say otherwise." Barry muttered with a point to her chest, pushed up under her forearms.

"Don't!" She whined as she covered her breasts from his view.

She was mad at him. It was the first time in the few weeks they had been dating she had felt angry with him. She scowled as she looked him up then down as he stayed leaned up against the door frame. The both of them challenging the other to make the first move.

"Well, are you staying the night or did you just come to yell at me and flash your nipples in my fucking face?" Barry grunted as he pushed himself off the door frame and slowly made his way towards the back of the house, slipping his gun back in the waistband of his pants.

"They aren't in your face." She mumbled but followed him towards his bedroom with a shuffle of her feet.

Barry sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the gun from the waistband of his pants and placing it delicately on his nightstand. He spread his knees and beckoned her over with a wave of his hand.

"I'm mad at you." She stated with her arms crossed over her chest still, looking him over. She did as instructed, though, walking over to his slowly and stood between his knees.

"Well. I don't wanna be mad at you." Barry replied as he placed his hands on her hips to pull her against his chest.

"You shouldn't have said those things to my dad, Barry." She whispered as she uncrossed her arms and placed her palms on his shoulders.

"I was right, wasn't I? You busted out the house and now you're here with me, ain't you?" Barry grinned up at her as his fingertips pushed up the hem of her shirt to touch her skin, still warm from her bike ride over.

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't mean you have to say it to my dad. Asshole." She pouted as she slapped his chest playfully before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I could have said way worse shit to him than that. Like how you liked to be tied up." Barry chuckled as he placed his hands on her backside and raised his eyebrows at her. He grabbed at her elbows, lifting her arms from around his neck and held her arms behind her back.

"Barry." She whined as she dropped her forehead to his.

"Guess I'll save that one for next time." Barry muttered as he kept his grip on her arms behind her back strong, but leaned in to press his lips to hers.

"Be nice to me." She pouted against his lips as she struggled weakly in his grip.

"No. You gotta make up for your dad coming in and fucking up my night." Barry smirked as he held her wrists behind her back with one hand as the other reached to the front of her shirt, pushing it beneath her breasts.

"I knew you had a daddy kink, Barry. But if you wanna fuck my dad that's a deal breaker for me." She grinned as she squirmed in his grip.

"Get on your hands and knees. Tiny Cameron." Barry growled as he let her wrists go and slapped her backside firmly.

"Ow! Fuck you." She whined as she crawled over his lap and onto the bed.

"About time." Barry mumbled as he stood up, turning the face the bed to see her back arched the way liked. He ran his thumb over his top lip and smiled softly to himself.

He wasn't going to stop selling to Rafe Cameron, that was something Rafe had to decide for himself. And he certainly wasn't going to stop seeing or sleeping with the girl currently in his bed, wiggling her ass at him for his attention.

Ward Cameron would have to kill him first.

Hottie List: @starkey-babie @sodasback @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864 @vinniehcker

*tag list still open if you'd like to be added - just let me know! Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much! xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[13uswntimagines]

Ghosted (Emily x Reader)

Request 1: sonnett where reader is really good friends with a goalie(your choice) and sonnett gets jealous because reader and goalie play for the same club and Emily is in Europe. Do she goes to Lindsey and reader thinks Emily is going to breakup with her and pushes her closer to the goalie and it’s a whole shit show

Request 2: Can you do a Emily Sonnett imagines where her and the reader are together but the reader use to date someone else on the team ( you can chose) and the comments gets to Emily. And the Reader shows Emily how much she loves her?

Request 3: Something with Jane Campbell please

Author’s Note: I thought these three would work very well together, so I combined them. Also, this one takes an interesting turn in the end and if you look closely enough there are hints to a very interesting dynamic and why reader and jane wouldn’t work out. Let me know what you think. I live for interactions and stuff. They help to keep me motivated. 

It had been one hell of a year. It had started with both you and your girlfriend getting zero notice when the thorns traded her to Orlando and you to Houston. Then you had been trapped on opposite ends of the country due to the pandemic. That distance only got bigger when she decided to go to Sweden when Orlando pulled out of the challenge cup. 

But the two of you had made it work. Well, at least you thought you had made it work. apparently, Emily thought differently, if the silent treatment you had gotten the second you stepped into camp 3 hours ago was anything to go by. 

Hell, she wouldn’t even look in your direction. All you wanted was to hold your girlfriend (cause you hadn’t seen her in person in almost 6 months) and it felt like she didn’t even give a fuck that you were there. And Lindsey intercepted you every time you tried to get close. 

You smiled as you approached your blond girlfriend, leaning on the squat rack next to her. Normally you’d wrap your arms around her and kiss her neck, but you didn’t want to overstep with this weird tension happening between you. 

“Hey Em, wanna partner?” you asked softly, almost shyly.

Emily didn’t even turn to acknowledge you.

“I’m already with Linds,” She said tensely. Since when had she been so on edge around you? 

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand what was happening between you and your girlfriend. You glanced down at your shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting. 

“Oh, maybe-“ You started, poking the squat rack with your shoe. You looked up, only to find that Emily had already walked away and joined Lindsey on the other side of the gym. 

You sighed, finishing your thought into the blank air around you. “we could do dinner or something later. Guess not,” 

You blew out a long breath, willing yourself to hold back the tears. She didn’t even wait to see what you were going to say. Your eyes followed her as she hugged the blond midfielder and laughed loudly at whatever she was saying. It was like a knife in your heart. 

“What’s going on with you and Miss Sweden?” Hands on your shoulders and the voice right next to your ear should have made you jump, but you were too used to Jane’s scare tactics. 

You rolled your eyes and shrugged the keeper off of you, your gaze never leaving Emily. “Honestly, I have no clue,” You sighed deeply. She had never been like this with you before, and you definitely hadn’t expected your reunion to go like this. 

“Maybe it’s just jet lag. You know how she gets when she doesn’t get enough sleep,” Jane shrugged, poking at your dimples, trying to get you to laugh. You batted her hand away. 

“The question is how you know that,” You said, sending her a scathing look. 

She smirked impishly, wiggling her eyebrows. “I live with you, remember?”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, shoving your best friend. “I don’t think You’d ever let me forget,” 

The only good thing about your trade to the dash was that you got to hang out with your best friend every day. You and Jane had known each other since college and instantly hit it off as friends. When you had been traded, Jane also just happened to be looking for a roommate and things had worked out pretty well. 

“Well, if you’re still looking for a dinner date, I’m free tonight,”  Jane hummed, wrapping an arm around you again. 

“Been there, done that,” You scoffed playfully, shoving her again, but she didn’t let go of you this time. 

So maybe the two of you had tried in college. It was more of a fling than anything else, and it had mutually ended on great terms. You loved each other, but you weren’t in love and that was alright. You decided you were way better off as friends than lovers and left it at that. Plus, you had kinda fallen insanely hard for a certain blond cavalier.

“Not that kind of date,” She giggled, letting you shove her ways this time (definitely taking note of how your lips ticked up and patting herself on the back for clearing some of the clouds on your sunny personality away). 

“Whatever you say, now shut up and spot me,” 

The two of you were so caught up that you didn’t see the annoyed blue eyes following you from across the room, or the clenched fists and jaw that would have told you exactly what the issue with your girlfriend was. 

*****

You tried to smile as you entered the dining room, hoping that you would finally have the chance to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering your girlfriend. 

You spotted her from across the room, seated at a table with Rose, Sam, and Mal. You released a breath that you didn’t know you were holding at the absence of a certain blond midfielder. Emily had been attached to her side, and watching them was like a knife in your chest, every interaction a slice at what felt like the tiny thread keeping your relationship together. 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” You asked as you approached the table, stopping short of the seat next to your girlfriend. 

She tensed, and you noted how her jaw clenched with furrowed eyebrows. She opened her mouth, but before she could respond another body slid between the two of you. 

“Yeah, it is,” Lindsey said firmly, setting her plate down right in front of the seat in question. You frowned, and your fingers tightened around your plate. You bit your lip in an attempt to not say the thing that was on your mind. Despite how pissed off you were with the woman, she was your friend too. 

You glanced around the table that was now awkwardly staring at you, your eyes landing on an empty seat next to Mal and across from Emily. 

“Alright, what about that one?” 

“Taken too,” Lindsey said shortly with a shrug. Mal glared at her. “No, it’s not, sit Y/n,”

The team was growing tired of the tension between you, and how sad you looked. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, sliding in beside Mal. 

Silence fell over the table, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You never felt so unwelcome around your friends before. 

“Well I better get going,” Emily said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, shoving the chair back and abruptly standing. Lindsey stood up next to her, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. Your chest ached at the hand placement and how Emily leaned into her. 

You shot up too, clearing your throat and extending your hand. “Wait Em, I thought maybe we could talk after dinner?” You said, desperation clear in your voice. The table had never heard you like this before, had never seen a crack in your typically cool and unfailingly in control exterior. 

“She’s already got plans,” Lindsey said with an eye roll, and Emily seems to tuck herself further into the taller midfielder. You gulped down the defeat and desperation threatening to crawl out of your chest. 

“Oh, um maybe I could join you then?” You asked hopefully. 

“Private plans Y/n.” Lindsey snapped, already beginning to guide Emily out of the room, seemingly careless to what you had to say. The blond defender didn’t even give you the courtesy of eye contact as she left. 

“Sure, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I love you, Emily,” You called after their backs, watching them go. 

Everything in you seemed to deflate. It felt like she was leaving with a piece of you like she didn’t even care you were crumbling behind her. You didn’t try to stop the tears as they fell this time, slumping miserably back into your seat. 

A warm presence knelt next to you, and soft but calloused hands gently wiped the tears burning down your face. 

You met the keeper’s concerned blue eyes and allowed her to pull you into her strong embrace, hiding your face in her neck. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” You sobbed. Jane rubbed large circles on your back with one hand and squeezed you tight with the otherHands-onother hand was trying to hold your broken pieces together. 

“I don’t know either,” She said, kissing the side of your head. 

You missed Emily pausing at the door to send you one last look, but Jane didn’t. Her eyes bored into the blond defender. If she thought she could just jerk you around like this with no consequences then she had another thing coming. 

Jane wasn’t romantically attracted to you, but you were her best friend and she wasn’t about to let you continue to get hurt. Emily might be able to avoid you, but she wouldn’t be able to avoid Jane, the keeper would make sure of it. 

****

“Alright cut the Bullshit Sweden, you’ve been ignoring Y/n for a week. What the fuck is your problem,” Jane growled, stepping into the nearly empty locker room and glaring at your girlfriend. She knew you could more than take care of yourself, but this had gone on long enough. 

Emily tensed at the new presence, back straightening and eye going wide. She hadn’t bet on the head of the Houston department of defense to get involved. 

“Fuck off Campbell,” Lindsey said back, stepping so she was standing protectively in front of her best friend. 

“I will not because your best friend there is hurting my best friend,” Jane took another step towards the duo, puffing out her chest. 

“Yeah right, she’s barely even noticed,” Emily scoffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. 

“See, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that considering she’s cried herself to sleep every night since she’s been here,” Jane said, taking another terrifying step forward, stabbing her finger wildly into the air. 

She had been the one to hold you while you sobbed yourself to sleep because you were sure Emily had fallen out of love with you. The one who watched you agonize over every interaction you had with your girlfriend leading up to camp, trying to find where you had gone wrong. The one who listened to you degrade yourself for apparently driving Emily away and right into Lindsey’s arms. She was watching as you literally ripped yourself apart over this. 

“And what, You didn’t enjoy comforting your new girlfriend?” Lindsey scoffed loudly, shoving Jane’s hand (which was practically touching her chest) away. 

“What?” Jane asked shocked. 

Emily peeked over Lindsey’s shoulder, scowling at the keeper. Anyone with eyes knew what they meant. “Look, I know she’s cheating so you can both drop the friends act,” 

Jane oils to help the laugh that bubbled out of her lips. God, Emily was clueless if she thought you two were anything more than friends. Sure you had tried in college, but there weren’t romantic feelings there. You both wanted such different things out of a partner and agreed that you were better off as friends. Emily was your person, and Jane would be damned if anyone said anything different. 

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she wants anyone but you and if you weren’t so far up Horan‘s ass you would know that. If you wanna break up with her to date Miss Portland then grow some balls and do it, but don’t you dare try and ghost the sweetest person in the world,” 

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” Emily spat. 

Jane rolled her eyes. “No, because it would hurt her more than you already have. She loves you, and I thought you loved her. If you do, then you should show it,”

Emily seemed to soften at Jane’s words. She did love you, more than life itself. She really had to talk this whole thing out with you. Jane didn’t give her a chance to respond, deciding that storming off to find you and make sure you were ready for practice was a more productive use of time (she would never admit that it scared her a little to leave you alone these days). 

*****

Emily wasn’t a jealous person. At least she tried not to be. But it was really fucking difficult when it came to you and your friendship with Jane. Well, it was difficult in the beginning, when she had you next to her, but with you so far away it was nearly unbearable. 

She hadn’t minded that the Dash moved you into Jane’s apartment, but then the comments started and they wouldn’t leave her alone. Instead of turning to you, talking it out with you, she had gone running to her own best friend. And in her effort to run from the fear that you wouldn’t choose her, she had hurt you in the process. 

She watched you from across the field, taking in the slight tilt of your head and slump of your shoulders. You smiled tightly at the keeper as she approached you, but Emily could tell that it didn’t reach your eyes, even from across the field. She also knew it wasn’t the blinding smile you saved solely for her. How hadn’t she noticed it before?

 “Jane was a little crude but she’s right you know,” Lindsey said, wrapping an arm around Emily’s shoulder, her eyes easily finding you. 

She felt bad about how Emily was treating you. 

“About which part?” Emily asked, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. Jane had said a whole lot, and she couldn’t find it within herself to disagree with them. It was childish to ignore you, and for her to be oblivious to your obvious feelings. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Lindsey scoffed, pinching Emily’s side a little harder than necessary. She didn’t like being the middleman between the two of you. You were her friend too after all. 

Emily sighed crossing her arms a little tighter around herself. “I know. I need to talk to talk to her,”

“I’m sure when she finds out what’s bothering you, there’ll be a whole lot more than talking. Isn’t communication one of those rules between the two of you?” Lindsey asked with a smirk, laughing loudly when Emily shoved her. The team knew about your relationship… dynamic and Lindsey was sure Emily was in for it when you realized exactly why the defender had broken your most sacred agreement. 

“Shut up,”

Emily’s cheeks flavored up at the implication. He was sure you’d come up with a very… creative… way to aid her in expressing her feelings next time and show her how much you loved her when you found out what this whole thing was about. 

*****

You watched Emily very carefully from your perch on the end of the bed. She had dragged you here right after practice, and as soon as the door closed the words were pouring out of her lips. 

You sat quietly, letting her finally get out the emotions she had been keeping from you for so long. She explained how the comments on Houston’s latest photo of you and Jane had started this whole shit show, and how terrified she was that you would decide you didn’t want to deal with the distance. 

You let her pace back and forth as she told you about how she didn’t want to confront the issue, so she thought ignoring you would be a better course of action. It didn’t give you a chance to tell her that you didn’t want to be with her anymore. 

She finally paused, turning to look at you with wide tearful eyes, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. 

“I don’t have romantic feelings for Jane,” You said seriously, looking your girlfriend right in the eyes. You wanted her to know how true those words were. She knew that tone and had this been a different conversation it would have sent a chill down her spine. 

“I know I just-“ She started, but you cut her rambling off an eyebrow raise and your firm voice“Got jealous and thought that cutting your losses was better than coming to me,” 

It was a rule in your relationship- communication was king. The only way things got done was if you talked about them. You talked through every aspect of your relationship, every like and dislike, every limit and desire. This situation broke every rule you had established and that didn’t sit well with you. You couldn’t be the only one initiating (or trying to), she had to do it too (especially if she was uncomfortable with something) for this whole thing to work. It scared you a little that she had just shut down and run off to Lindsey. 

Emily nodded slightly, staring a hole in your shirt. 

“I thought you had moved on already,” She mumbled. 

You stood from the bed, gently using a finger to tilt her head so you could look her in the eyes. You raised an eyebrow. “So you got cozy with Lindsey to make me feel as jealous as you were and then wouldn’t respond to me as punishment?”

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would hurt less,” She mumbled, captivated by your y/e/c eyes and the little swirl of deeper emotion hidden inside. 

You nodded. stepping closer so your noises were almost touching and gently grasping her shoulders. “I love you Emily Ann Sonnett, even when you’re being a dumbass and ghosting me,” 

She could feel your breath fanning over her lips, only adding to the weight of your words. 

“I love you too,” Emily said, and you could see the truth to her words in her blue eyes. 

You smirked. “I know,” 

You leaned down and finally connected your lips. She grabbed your collar and pulled you closer, pouting all of her emotions into the kiss, trying to show you how much she loved you and how sorry she was for hurting you. 

Your lips moved together in a very familiar dance, slow and full of all of the emotions between you. At some point, you had flipped the two of you around so Emily was seated on edge of the bed. You pulled back and began to trail kisses down your girlfriend’s neck. 

She tilted her head to give you more room, sighing and moaning as you trailed your way down her chest, stomach, and thighs, placing kisses as you went until you were kneeling between her legs. Your fingers toyed with the waistband of her pants, an annoying cocky smirk plaster on your face when she whined that you were going too slow. 

“No, no baby girl. We’re going to work on your communication skills, so I’m not going to do anything unless you tell me exactly what you want,” 

[drabbles-mc]

This Is Her?

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: well i was thinking of angel, something with him introducing his s/o to the mc if you're up for it? and ez was good friends with the reader already but didn't know at all they were with angel, so like big big surprise for everyone ❤ (and maybe angel gets kinda possessive too)

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, the lightest and tiniest bit of angst, and a dash of jealous Angel

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: The whole idea of the reader and EZ already knowing each other was super intriguing to me, so that sort of became a bit of a focal point for this fic. Hope that’s okay haha. Enjoy! xo

Angel Reyes Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @helli4nthus​ @angelreyesgirl​ @encounterthepast​ @lilacyennefer​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @queenbeered​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @lakamaa12​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @luckyharley1903​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​

When Angel had invited you to go to a clubhouse party with him, you hesitated. You knew that you should have been jumping at the opportunity but there was something in your gut that was making you nervous. The two of you had been keeping your relationship quiet for a number of reasons, but mainly because he felt like he was keeping you safe by keeping you a little distant from the club. Deep down you both knew that if you were going to stay together, you couldn’t stay in the dark. But it also felt like there was an immense amount of pressure resting on your shoulders for this night to go well.

The other thing that was nagging at your mind, was that you had failed to mention to Angel that you already knew his brother, and you never told EZ that you were dating Angel. Not telling EZ about your relationship just fell into line with the two of you deciding not to tell anyone. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why you had never told Angel that you were already friends with his brother. You knew that deep down that EZ was an insecurity point for Angel, and maybe you just didn’t want to exacerbate that issue. But there wasn’t going to be any more hiding it, now.

He knocked on the doorframe of your bedroom, a smile on his face as he looked at you, “You ready, hermosa?”

You nodded, trying to come off more confidently than you really felt, “You bet. Just gotta grab my shoes and I’ll be good to go.”

“Wanna take the bike?” he offered.

You smiled, “I would love to take the bike.”

You were pressed snug up against Angel’s back as he rolled into the lot at the clubhouse. Part of you had no desire to let him go and get off the bike—you would’ve just ridden around with him forever if you could. But you knew that you’d done enough avoiding and it was time to just suck it up and get this over with. You knew it wasn’t ever going to be as bad as your brain was trying to make it out to be.

“C’mon,” Angel chuckled as he patted your hands that were still resting on his stomach, “it’ll be fun. I promise.”

With a tiny sigh, you let him go. After unclasping your helmet and handing it to him so he could hang it off the handlebars with his own, you swung your leg over and hopped off the bike. You smoothed your shirt out, trying to ignore the way that Angel was staring at you.

He stepped in and draped his arm around your shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your temple. Neither of you said anything as you made your way towards the clubhouse. You could hear the music and clamoring conversations from outside. There were a few people scattered around on the deck, but the fac that Angel didn’t try to stop and talk to any of them led you to believe that they weren’t the people of importance that he was bringing you here to meet.

He pushed open the door to the clubhouse and you were hit with a wave of heat that was tinged with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. It took you a second to get your bearings and get your mind right, but you didn’t have the time to be caught off-guard as Angel ushered you into the room.

“Am I gonna have to remember the names of all these people?” you asked quietly.

He chuckled and shook his head, “No, don’t worry about it,” he gave your hip a light, reassuring squeeze.

You’d heard a lot about all of the men in the club. That was one part of his life with the MC that he didn’t feel like he had to hide you from. Despite the fact that you didn’t have any faces to go with the names, except for Ezekiel, you knew a lot about each member of the club. It was interesting because you knew that they didn’t know anything about you.

“Y/N?” you heard EZ’s voice clearly through the noise of the clubhouse.

Angel couldn’t hide the surprise on his face as his little brother came up and wrapped you in a hug. You laughed and leaned into him for a moment, unable to lie to yourself about the fact that it was comforting to see him.

“Hey, EZ,” you smiled at him.

Angel was looking back and forth between the two of, very confused, “Was gonna introduce you to her, ‘mano, but it doesn’t look like I have to.”

Now it was EZ’s turn to look surprised, “She’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”

“She’s right here, you know,” you chuckled, “You can stop talking about me in the third person.”

“Sorry,” EZ chuckled and shook his head, “Just didn’t think that you were going to be the girl he rolled in with tonight.”

“Surprise,” you laughed.

“I’ll catch up with you later, alright?” he stepped in and gave you a quick hug before clapping Angel on the shoulder and making his way back into the thick of the party.

Angel motioned for you to sit down at the bar and you did, your nerves intensifying as he sat down next to you as he ordered each of you a beer. You twisted the bottle between your fingers as you waited for him to say something. You could see the thoughts swirling around in his eyes.

“So, you know Boy Scout?”

You nodded, “Yea. He came into the shop a while back. Asked for some really fucking obscure book that I had to place an order just to get for him,” you chuckled, “We hit if off well enough. Been friends ever since.”

“Didn’t think to mention that to me?”

You shrugged, “Didn’t know EZ’s last name at first. Once I put two and two together, though, it felt like it was too late to bring it up. We weren’t telling people about us and I know you feel some type of way about your brother sometimes. Just…didn’t know how to approach the topic.”

“He ever try and hit on you?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to suppress a smile, “No, Angel.”

“Good,” the serious expression fell away from his face as he allowed himself to smile. He leaned in and kissed you lightly on the lips, “’Cause you’re mine.”

You laughed, instantly feeling the knot in your stomach starting to loosen. You could handle the rest of whatever the night had to throw at you now that the cat was out of the bag. You reached over and rested your hand on Angel’s thigh as you scanned the clubhouse and tried to get your bearings.

“So, anyone else here that you already know?” Angel smirked over at you as he watched you look around the room.

You shook your head, trying not to laugh, “No, I don’t think so.”

As the night wore on, Angel slowly started introducing you to everyone in the club. Some of them seemed to fit all of the stories that Angel had told you. When you finally got to meet Coco for some reason everything that Angel had ever told you about him completely clicked into place in your brain. It was so much less intimidating that you thought it was going to be. Even when you met Bishop and the rest of the elders of the club, it wasn’t as off-putting as you had made it out to be in your head. They were surprised that Angel showed up with someone like you, someone who didn’t seem like they would put themselves in the middle of the Mayans clubhouse voluntarily. They were also surprised that Angel had been able to keep his mouth shut about you for so long. But they made sure that the brunt of their jokes landed on Angel, not you. If anything, the president of the club was extremely warm and inviting towards you.

“You’re a brave woman to be taking on that responsibility,” he nodded towards Angel with a laugh.

Angel chuckled and shook his head as he pulled you onto his lap, “C’mon, Pres, I just got her here. Don’t go trying to scare her away.”

“She doesn’t seem like she’s someone who scares easy,” he flashed you a wink and nodded, “Nice meeting you.”

You and Angel found yourselves curled up together on the couch. The two of you were sitting with Coco, EZ, and Gilly. It was impossible to listen to the four of them banter back and forth without laughing. You could feel Angel’s eyes on you as he tried to make sure that you were still comfortable with everything that was happening around you. He knew it was a lot to take in all at once.

“So,” Coco shifted the topic of conversation, “Boy Scout tells me that he beat Angel to the punch?”

Angel reached over and slapped Coco’s arm, “Shut the fuck up.”

You laughed, lightly tracing your nails up and down the back of Angel’s neck in an attempt to calm him down and distract him. You felt the way that his arms tightened around you at Coco’s comment. You knew it was all in good fun, but you also knew that it was touching a very exposed and sensitive nerve for Angel.

“I’m willing to bet money,” you spoke up, “that that’s not how EZ phrased it.”

“Thank you,” EZ said with a laugh before taking a swig of his beer.

You looked at Angel and despite the fact that he was smiling, his hold on you didn’t loosen at all. Once you had written off Coco’s comment, the guys jumped right to another topic of conversation. While they were all wrapped up in it, you leaned and placed a kiss on Angel’s cheek.

You leaned in so that your lips were right next to his ear, making sure that he was the only one who could hear you, “Loosen up, baby. Don’t let ‘em get under your skin,” you pressed your lips against his jaw, “I’m all yours.”

He leaned into your touch and you felt his arm loosen ever so slightly.  You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned your head onto his shoulder, your fingertips idly tracing over the patches on his kutte as you listened to the guys banter back and forth amongst themselves.

When the night was beginning to wind down, Angel offered to bring you back home before you got too tired to safely stay on the back of his bike. You couldn’t deny that despite the fact that it had been a fun night, you were exhausted. You let him pull you up off the couch and the two of you made your way towards the clubhouse door, his arm draped around your shoulders and yours wrapped around his waist. He kept you pulled tight against him, but you could feel it in his touch that it wasn’t coming from a place of insecurity this time—you were his comfort.

The two of you said your goodbyes to the members who were still at the clubhouse, the few who hadn’t left or paired off with one of the women there. When you stepped out of the clubhouse and onto the deck, you saw EZ sitting in the steps, staring up into the sky, clearly lost in thought. Angel cleared his throat to get his attention, and EZ turned back to you both with a smile as he stood up.

“Heading out?” EZ looked at Angel.

He nodded, “Yea, before this one passes out on the back of my bike,” he gave his brother a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, “See ya,” he pulled you into a hug, “You working tomorrow?”

You smiled, “Yea, I’ll be there all day.”

“Alright, I’ll try to stop in and see you.”

You didn’t have to be looking at Angel to know what his face looked like. And you could tell by the amused look on Ezekiel’s face that he was enjoying getting a rise out of his brother. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Please, come in and make more ridiculous requests. You know I love it when you make my job more difficult for me.”

“I know you do,” he had a cocky smirk on his face as he shook his head, “Get home safe. Don’t let Angel fly off the road.”

“I never do,” you laughed, “Goodnight, EZ.”

As the two of you walked away, Angel couldn’t help but to ask, “How often he come and visit you at work?”

You laughed and entwined your hand with his, “Just enough to bother you, apparently,” you shook your head slightly, “Better learn to let that shit go if you’re gonna keep letting me come around here.”

He looked at you, interest sparking in his eyes, “You wanna come back?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

“Wasn’t as bad as you thought it was gonna be?”

You couldn’t help but to laugh as the two of you approached his bike, “It wasn’t, no.”

He pulled you in for a kiss before handing you your helmet, “I’m glad you came.”

You smiled at him, lightly caressing the side of his face, “Me too.”

“But,” he chuckled as he swung his leg over his bike, “I’m even more glad that I get to take you home.”

You laughed as you climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his back, “Yea, me too.”

[mrpenguinpants-alter-ego]

Genshin: Holding Hands HCs [V1]

Why yes, I am aware I have requests and a possible part 2 to write. But tumblr tags is like playing Russian roulette so I need to figure out this tagging system. Gonna post two short ones today to see if they show up in tags or not. I got 3ish weeks of school left so weekly updates. When the break hits I’ll be writing more. 

Genshin: Holding Hands V2: [TBA] 

I kinda want to do all the genshin character’s but we’ll see. I have requests to finish and a paper to write aha. 

btw I have a taglist. If you want to be added see pinned post for details.

---

Venti

While his hands are relatively soft to hold, his fingertips are a bit rough due to plucking his lyre strings for hundreds of years. It’s not a bad feeling but his fingertips are a bit more sensitive compared to the palm of his hand. If you want to hear this bard shriek just cover your hand in some slime condensate and hold your hands together and never let go. No matter how windy it gets. 

Venti has no issues with linking hands together even when you’re both friends. If it’s to drag you off somewhere and away from whatever important task you have to do that day domain farming he’ll do it. He think’s it’s really sweet when you hold his hand a bit tighter whenever he has to use his elemental skill to give you a small boost to grab that last violet grass. 

He has a habit of swinging your hands together if you’re both walking side by side. His other hand will gesture as he rambles on about a new song or story he heard of and he might even gesture with both hands. He refuses to let go of your hand though so your arm is on a ride whenever he get’s to a really intense part. 

For Venti, holding hands is a sign of stability rather than affection. He may be the archon of anemo with a strong sense of freedom but he is quite lonely. He was asleep for a long time so the people he used to know have long since passed. While the wind flows and rushes past everything, being able to hold your hand stables him onto the ground. 

Diluc

Despite being a pyro vision user, Diluc’s body temperature is on the cooler side. It might be because of elemental reactions on the body or that’s just how Diluc is. Either way, his hands are relatively cool to the touch that it always surprises you. You always give a small reflexive flinch expecting warmth from the red-haired man’s hand, but you’ll slowly relax and connect your fingers together. 

Diluc has an aloof personality and enjoys his personal space but he is a kind person deep down. A tiny bit touched starved but he’s never going to say that out loud. So he doesn’t mind if you want to hold hands but if you’re going to initiate it, you’re committing to it. If you want to give him something akin to a handshake, just shake his hand instead. But if you hold his hand and let go, he’s snatching your hand back. 

He tends to rub small shapes into your hand unconsciously. There’s something relaxing in the act and you don’t seem to mind. Though sometimes he needs to adjust his glove but then he’s right back to holding your hand. Diluc isn’t necessarily embarrassed with public affection, he’s just busy and he’s never been in a relationship before or one where he’d consider friendly interaction. 

As weird as it seems to others, Diluc prefers to have his palm rest against your wrist. His hand is bigger than yours so that he can still wrap your fingers together, but feeling your pulse against his palm gives me peace of mind. It means you’re alive and you’re right beside him. 

Zhongli

There’s never a specific moment where you and Zhongli hold hands. Even when the both of you are walking together, your hands stay to your own sides. You never ask to hold hands and he never initiates but that’s alright. You both have different way so of communicating your affections. Zhongli is naturally blunt and straightforward with his affection but it’s usually in unprompted moments. You both could be working on paperwork and he’ll mention out of the blue how he enjoys your presence in his life, offer you a small genuine smile, and hold your hand in his. You’re not too sure what the appeal of doing paperwork is but to each their own.? 

His hands are a bit stiff and weighty but it’s a comfortable feeling. While Zhongli is a bit naïve and awkward when it comes to handling mora he’s quite smooth in slipping his hand in yours so naturally. Whether it be because your hands looked cold or he just wanted to, both end up flustering you. It’s kind of cute when he has to write something down but can’t because he refuses to let go of your hand. He ends up writing with his left and the penmanship is actually legible that it makes you kinda proud at how randomly talented Zhongli can be sometimes. 

Zhongli doesn’t have any habits when it comes to holding hands but he usually prefers to hold hands firmly together rather than a loose hold. He say’s some spiritual take on the matter, that rock’s should be sturdy to support the one’s above and likewise so should the joining of two hands, but it really just kills the mood.  

He’s secretly a bit of a tease so he enjoys seeing you turn pink whenever he holds your hand. Zhongli enjoys peace and quiet so whenever it’s just the two of you together working on mundane things, it allows him to take a small step back and just bask in your features and your presence. You’ll soon note his staring and ask if there’s something wrong but there isn’t. Not now at least. So he’ll smile calmly and remark how he wishes this moment would last. 

[chubbytummy]

(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

synopsis:

(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)

taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?

tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡

☆

♡

it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?

that's what taehyung believed, anyway.

taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.

that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.

literally.

it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.

the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.

the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.

he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.

strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.

but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?

♡

☆

♡

leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.

"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.

"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"

the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.

having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.

that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.

"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.

at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.

"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"

taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.

"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"

taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.

"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.

before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.

"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.

as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.

"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"

"stressed and hungry."

hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.

"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"

a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.

looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.

the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.

taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.

it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.

"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."

the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?

"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.

"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.

"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"

"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"

he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.

"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."

once again, another comment.

"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.

jungkook snorted.

"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"

it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.

he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.

"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.

"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."

suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.

"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."

taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.

"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.

it was a strange sensation, really...

♡

☆

♡

a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.

hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.

taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.

"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."

jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.

"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."

gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.

"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.

before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.

once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.

before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.

a scale.

he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.

however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.

taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.

looking down, his eyes widened.

78.1kg.

he blinked.

huh. so that's how much he weighed.

the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.

wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.

taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.

78.1kg.

this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.

what? they were cute!

standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.

it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.

maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...

he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!

taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.

in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.

his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.

last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.

taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.

and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.

taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.

above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.

so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.

after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.

as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.

taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.

"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"

taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.

"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"

"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"

the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.

"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"

"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?

seokjin waved him off.

"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."

taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.

"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."

seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.

"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."

there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.

"jin-hyung, i-"

"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."

"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.

it was delicious. of course it would be.

in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.

"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.

taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.

"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."

seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.

"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"

taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.

"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."

he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.

he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.

"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"

taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.

"feeling full?"

taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."

he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?

seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."

the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.

to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.

"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."

and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.

"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"

taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.

he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?

wait a minute--

oh fuck.

he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.

"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."

taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.

this. this was heaven right here.

seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.

soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.

just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.

he sighed. he must have been dreaming.

slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.

it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.

when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

had he been dreaming this whole time?

placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.

nope. it was all real.

and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.

♡

☆

♡

"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.

"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."

and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.

the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.

"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."

taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.

"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"

hoseok closed his eyes.

"ugh, he's just... ugh."

taehyung laughed and shook his head.

"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."

hoseok sighed a breath of relief.

"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"

he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.

hoseok was really something else.

upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.

"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"

taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.

"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.

"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."

"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.

"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."

taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.

"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"

jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.

"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.

the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.

"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."

a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.

"um, hyungie?"

"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.

"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."

taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.

"what are you talking about, jungkook?"

"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.

taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.

"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"

jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.

taehyung smiled and continued.

"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"

jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.

"um..."

"is it because i'm chubby?"

jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.

"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."

jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.

"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.

"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."

jungkook went stiff.

"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."

taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.

"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"

this earned him a playful slap.

"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.

taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.

"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."

taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.

"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"

despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.

and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.

however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.

♡

☆

♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!

~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[themotherofhorses]

or else they better dig two | b.b.

summary: the man standing before you was not your husband. not in the slightest. However, he was sorry. so fucking sorry. his white eyes showed you that. 

pairing: bucky barnes x wife!reader

warning(s): angst, major wounds, kinda zombie!bucky?, main character/variant death, the ol’ winter soldier but 10x worse. bucky’s variant is from earth-807128 and, lemme tell ya, it is absolutely brutal in that universe.

a/n: um, yea, well, decided to give this a try. it’s short but simple. inspired by The Band Perry’s “Better Dig Two”.

It had been almost two months since you last seen your husband. Five weeks since he went complete radio silent. And thirteen days since his identification marker disappeared off the grid. 

You were quite concerned, to say the least. 

A few times would Bucky not answer for days at a time. The longest was five weeks, but that was before he sent you a surprised "I'm coming home bby" text, and his tiny bright-red marker sparkled as he grew closer to both New York and you. 

But his ID marker had never disappeared off the S.H.I.E.L.D intel atlas. Not once during his entire career as an Avenger/S.H.I.E.L.D agent. That’s why you knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

You could feel it, deep in your bones. It made you feel a little sick.

Nick Fury was instantly made aware of this situation. He spent ten minutes just staring at the screen before directing both Steve and Sam to pack up. They would be deployed to Bucky's last known location and do a thorough areal search. It could be several reasons why he isn't showing up anymore, Maria Hill murmured, From a possibly fatal wound to an enemy ambush. 

"Don't worry," she said with a tight-lipped smile that did not reach her eyes, "We'll find him. Or, better yet, Steve will. Cap would not allow his best friend to vanish off the face of the earth again. You know that. I know that. Everyone in this compound knows it."

With nothing really left to do, you wished Steve and Sam a bit of good luck and assured them that you’d update with anything new that came up in the database. It would take them roughly eight hours to reach Belgrade. Time was ticking. You felt nauseous. 

Three days later, you received a much-needed update that didn’t do anything to alleviate your fears. Bucky's S.H.I.E.L.D-issued backpack was dug up near a desolate cabin within the Molin Forest. Scrapes of dark blood splattered the cabin's flooring, along with the most overpowering and appalling smell. It smells like a...like a dead body, Sam stated, covering his nose. Beside him, Steve dropped his head. 

Tony left the room and Natasha threw her arms around you, holding you close as you wailed. Fury gave them the choice: come back home or search for the body. 

They chose the latter. But they could not locate the remains of your husband. of your Bucky.

You felt nauseous again. 

It had been almost three weeks since then. Condolences begin to pile in. “I am so sorry…It must be so devastating to lose your husband…To be a widow this young…If there is anything I can do….” 

Then, the U.S. Army reached out, requesting if you wish for your husband to be buried in Arlington. 

“He’ll be laid to rest alongside other members of the WWII Howling Commando Unit. There will be a plot next to him, reserved for you as his wife, of course.”

It was almost too much to take. 

You want to scream and shout and cry because your husband is not dead, dammit. 

To take your mind off of the most… recent issues, you decide to tuck yourself away inside your bedroom and reorganize the closet. On the left side, your clothing. On the right, Bucky's. You color-coordinated his Henley's and straightened up his boots, wondering if you should polish them as well. 

No. Bucky prefers for his boots to be scuffed up. He likes to see the tiny scratches when the sunlight hits them. They’re like ‘little badges’ as he jokingly says. 

You leave them alone and move on to the next. 

As you're folding away shirts into the dresser, you hear a slight stumble outside. It sounds like someone almost tripped. You immediately stop what you're doing and listen. The footsteps are heavy against the hardwood. You could recognize them from a mile away. 

"Bucky!" You shriek, feeling like crying from utter relief as you run towards him. "For the gods' sake, Bucky! You fucking terrified me! Where were you-" You suddenly stop in your steps, eyes widening in horror.

“Bucky?” 

It's Bucky. But it's... it's not your Bucky. 

Your hands are quick in an attempt to trap the ghastly scream that escapes your mouth. Somewhere, in the background, you can hardly make out FRIDAY asking if you require immediate emergency assistance. 

It won't help, you think. It won't do jack shit. 

Because Bucky is standing before you, 6′ft or so in the Winter Soldier suit.

Thick, ebony leather from neck to toe, with numerous weaponry and devices strapped to his waist. One thigh holds a pistol, his back carries another. His old metal arm, the one with the red star, hums with electricity. Over his mouth is the same black muzzle, which hides away the majority of his face. It leaves just his eyes to be seen, a pale white that is practically blinding.

“Bucky...”

A fat tear drips down your cheek as you take notice of the pitchfork buried deep in his chest. It's still fresh, blood trickling onto the floor. It matches the dried red along his scalp. 

Yet, despite all his injuries and everything, Bucky stands motionless, every so often a twitch in his shoulders. 

"Bucky...Oh, gods, what did they do to you, baby?"   

He blinks, once, twice, four times. You stand, hushed, as you await his next move. Then, the skin between his brows creases, and he mumbles something. It's muffled, it's weak, yet you can hear it perfectly.

It's your name. 

"Kill me. Kill me. Kill me..."

"Do it. Do it. Do it…" 

"Please. Please. Please..."

You cannot move, nor can you think. Instead, you feel that familiar urge to suddenly vomit. When he sees that you haven’t done anything, he recites his pleas, each one a massive stab at your heart.

"Kill me. Kill me. Kill me..."

"Do it. Do it. Do it…" 

"Please. Please. Please..."

You take a deep breath, biting back a large sob. In the back, amongst the walls, FRIDAY lets you know that Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Clint are rushing their way up to your floor.

“Do not worry, Mrs. Barnes. An on-site emergency medical team is on its way. ETA five minutes.”

But you know that any attempts would all be in vain. 

There is no saving this Bucky, whoever he may be with these white eyes. You hope Steve will understand when he enters and sees the aftermath. Maybe he will if he realizes that this Bucky wasn’t yours, you tell yourself as you reach for the gun at your side. 

And this would’ve been your last choice in any scenario given.

"I’m so sorry but I won’t have you endure this any longer. I’m better than that. I know it’s painful. Don’t worry, though, I will avenge you. Steve will avenge you. We‘ll all avenge you.” You raise your gun, finger heavy on the trigger.

He makes a deep drawl that kind of resembles a Steeevvvieee?

You nod, blinking back tears, “If we meet again, I beg you, please forgive me...”

A second later, Bucky collapses to the ground, forehead wet with new blood.

“Th...Thankkk...Yooouu...”

You have to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. Your Bucky isn’t dead on the floor with a bullet in his brain and a pitchfork in his chest. He’s gonna come back, you repeat, rocking yourself back and forth as you eye all the blood pooling around the body.

That wasn’t him. 

It was not. 

He’s gonna come home. 

Or else they better dig two.

[echoalyssa]

Hey can you write asher adams x reader imagine where she is his best friend but also has feelings for him and she saw Olivia cheating on asher with spencer but she doesn't know how to tell asher and she avoids him and when Asher confronts her she tells everything..

Meant To Be | Asher Adams

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! I’m sorry it took so long! 

Asher Adams is your best friend, but only your best friend despite the feelings you harbor for him. And the issue is that he has a girlfriend, one that he loves.  So that’s the issue, well one of the issues.

All you had been doing was walking to class, you’d decided to take the long way to your physics class, through and down some hallways that were basically abandoned. 

For a school as large as Beverly, it was quite a walk, you weren’t even sure what these classrooms lining the hallways were for.

You turn a corner, your head bobbing to a machine gun Kelly song from his new album that was playing through your AirPods. 

Instead of an empty hallway there’s two figures present in this one.

The male is pressing the female against a door to a classroom. Their lips are locked and it’s passionate, you can see the tongue, the body movements, the way she pulls him closer by his shirt.

You try to keep walking, to keep your head down but something in you urges you to look up, and so you do and freeze. It’s Spencer and Olivia, so deep in each other that they don’t immediately notice you standing there. You can't avert your eyes even if you wanted to. 

Olivias eyes pop open when Spencers lips move to her neck and she sees you, gaping from down the hallway, only a few paces away.

Her eyes go wide and her hands go to push him away. “Spencer stop!”

He pulls back from her immediately and retracts his hand from under her shirt. His eyes search her face hurriedly and then he follows her gaze to where you're standing. He releases her from his grasp and Olivia shoots forward, going to grab your hand. 

“It’s not what it looks like Y/N, I promise!”

You scoff, “It looks like you're cheating on my best friend!”

“No no it ain’t like that. Liv didn't mean no harm, this was all me a’ight?” Spencer says and rubs the back of his neck.

“No no, it wasn’t Spencers fault, it’s mine. I... I cheated on Asher.”

“Spencer, you’re on a break with Layla! That doesn’t mean you can do this! And Olivia, you looked like a very active participant!”

Olivias bottom lip quivers, “I n-never meant to hurt Asher, I love him! Please don’t tell him.”

You didn't think cheating on him would hurt him!?”

“I-I, my heart said-”

“Asher doesn’t deserve this!” You interrupt. “You claim to not want to hurt him but you’re his girlfriend. And you are his best friend Spencer! And on top of it all you want me to hide it from him!? If your heart said Spencer, you should have ended things with Asher first!”

Olivia crumples to the floor, and Spencer rushes to her side to hold her. 

“I’m not hiding this from him, so either you tell him, or I do! And don’t you even think about offering to do it Spencer, this is Olivia’s story to tell!”

“I c-can’t,” she cries from between her hands that are covering her face. You glare at her and Spencer and then spin around on your heel.

~~~

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately Asher is in your next class. He’s already there and when you spot him you freeze. Why would anyone cheat on him?

He waves at you and when you finally unfreeze and have to walk past him he sticks his fist out for a bump.

You bump it, attempting to plaster a fake smile on so that he doesn’t see right through you as he normally does. Though you didn't want to keep him in the dark for longer than you had to. Now was definitely not the time to tell him. 

His hand shoots out and because he's sitting down he can’t reach your shoulder so his hand lands on your hip. You stop immediately, sparks flying from where his hand connects with your person.

“H-hi Ash.” You manage to choke out eventually.

“Hey Y/N, you okay? You look kinda pale.”

You fiddle with your hoodie string, “Um...yup just worried about a pop quiz.”

His head drops back, exposing his neck and you try your hardest to avoid staring at his Adams apple and the veins in his throat.

“We never have pop quizzes in this class!” He says with a chuckle, “But you know we’d cheat if there was one.”

You smile knowing that his statement is true and finally you tear your gaze from him so that you can take your seat.

The teacher is droning on when a tiny piece of paper lands on your desk. You look up, seeing Asher turn back around in his seat and you unfold the note.

In Asher’s signature handwriting, the note reads, My house after school?

It should be normal, but your stomach flutters with the anticipation of being in his house with him alone.

He turns to look at you for your answer and you nod at him with a smile. Asher grins. 

~~~

The final school bell rings and you immediately rush to the parking lot, specifically Asher’s car. He normally gave you a ride to school and then you’d sit and watch his football practice and do your homework before he’d drop you off at your house. 

Football practice had been canceled today so the coaches could have a coach only meeting.

He isn't there yet so you lean against the passenger side door until he appears.

“Y/N!” he calls you in a sing song voice and unlocks the door for you. 

You hop in, snagging the aux cord and he lets you, just like always. 

“Olivia hasn’t been responding.” He murmurs, because he’s comfortable letting you in on the details of his relationship, just before the music starts and you're hit with a flash of guilt. 

You would tell him, you would, just not while he was driving. 

His house isn't too terribly far from school, only a ten minute drive or so and before you know it you're hopping out of his car and racing him to the front door.

Asher wins of course, but it was always fun to try. 

“My room?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide the excited smile that is trying to take residence upon your face.

He plops onto his bed and motions for you to come out on it too.

Has Olivia ever been with him in this bed? Of course she had.

“Ash, I need to tell you something.”

“Yessssss..?”

When you don’t respond he sits forward and takes you with his pencil so you screech. And then again for good measure. 

“It’s... about you and Olivia.”

“And..?” he prompts.

And because you can’t hide anything from him the words rush out. “I was taking the long way to class, you know how I do that sometimes? I was just walking along, lost in thought and minding my own business. And then I saw these two people making out. And I mean heavy, like hands under clothing, tongues down each others throats, making out. I didn't realize I knew them until I got closer and then I couldn’t believe who or what I was seeing but... it was Spencer and Olivia.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from rambling on, one of your nervous habits, your eyes well with tears because of the pain you must be causing him. “I’m so sorry Asher. I told her to tell you but she refused and I couldn’t tell you any sooner than now and...”

He sits forward, unusually silent, and then he opens his phone and taps out a message. He turns it around to show you. It’s a message to Olivia.

‘I know. It’s over.’ it reads.

And then very calmly he looks at you, leans closer, and then pulls you in.

His lips land on yours, carefully at first, testing the waters to see if you were okay with it or not. 

And once you get over the initial shock that you're kissing Asher Adams, your best friend, you respond eagerly.

You part your lips more, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. You moan softly into the kiss as he sets both your mind and body alight.

His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer to him. His hand is in your hair and he’s exploring your mouth eagerly.

All too soon, you have to remember to breathe which requires separating from him. 

There’s a content smile written on both your faces.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for as long as I could remember.”

You grin at him, knowing he doesn’t need an explanation from you so instead you get out of his bed and pull one of his hoodies out of his closet. You change in front of him, sliding out of your crop top and sliding his hoodie on. You ditch your sweatpants, opting to just have on the nike pros you’d been wearing underneath them.

You climb into bed again but this time under his covers. He joins you with a grin that shows you all of his emotion and pulls you into his chest, 

“You are so unbelievably hot.”

You curl into him, listening to his heartbeat. There would be time to talk about this later, to work out the fine details. But for now, the two of you both just knew that this was right and you were content with it. You had always loved one another, you just hadn’t realized that it was like this, in this way.

[alphabravocharliedelta]

HC request - the safe house crew (who’s been in relationship with Reader!Bell) reacting to the “good” ending of the campaign...?

Ah yes. living in spain but the s is silent

Adler

He feels numb and lost, doesn't know what to think

And he despises himself for following his orders through, but it was always for the greater good

But was it worth it?

The speech that Adler gave you on the cliff was true to the heart… or he tried to convince himself that it was

It wasn't until he pulled the trigger that he had realized what he'd actually done, and what he just lost

Does he regret it? He doesn't know anymore.

Kind of just stares at his hands, and when they finally return to the safehouse he locks himself in the medbay and draws the blinds to a close 

Balls them into fists after he realizes that they were shaking, and not from the cold.

He was too fucking obedient— aimlessly following orders, was he too blindsided with the idea of keeping the free world "free"?

Adler thought that if the authorities were satisfied with the outcome, then nothing else mattered

But that ideology had no use now

Hudson 

The most difficult of decisions require the strongest wills

But even then he found himself breaking underneath the pressure

Commitment to his job was one thing, but having the final authority on the verdict was the most difficult thing 

One life vs potential millions

Before he could come to a finalized decision, Adler already done the job

He only gives one, curt nod: "I see."

Returns to his office after hearing the news, where he closes the door gently.

Inside, though, he just loses his cool

he literally throws everything off of his desk, swiping his arms across the top as everything falls onto the floor

Throws his glasses down in frustration before burrowing his face in his hands

Upon seeing a photo of you, the one from your file, he picks it up, about to rip or crumple it

Only to remember that it was one of the few pictures they had of you

Lazar 

You saved his life

Lazar feels his heart just shatter upon hearing the news

He never forgets the people he owes, and even swore to himself to put his life on the line for you ever since Cuba

But he wasn't even given the chance to

It's complicated— should he take it and suck it up like he always was or lash out?

even if he was a weapons specialist, Lazar kinda just doesn't touch a gun for a while unless he has to

Despite working with Adler for years, there was finally a reason to hold a grudge against him, and he doesn't let it go

Locks himself in a room, he'll cry silently while cradling one of the presents you gave him. 

It's not one of those "sitting there as tears fall" kind of thing, but the one where he's trying to choke back any sounds while attempting to find room to breathe in between

People won't see him for a while

Mason 

Doesn't processes it at first

or maybe he just refused to

Just sits there for a moment, letting to words fully sink in and letting his mind comprehend the meaning

Mason gets beyond pissed

You went through the same shit he did, and this was the treatment you got in return?

He didn't even find out about your brainwashing until just hours before they raided the monastery 

It was unfair and cruel, as if the CIA was playing favorites

You were one of the only people that actually understood and tolerated him. Loved him despite his flaws and deeply rooted issues.

and they just took it all away

Mason thought he lost you in the aftermath of Solovetsky, but was beyond relieved when he found you alive and kicking under the large debris

Now he felt all of that shit coming back, and this time it was permanent

Park

Hates herself for not realizing it sooner

The signs were there, yet she didn't bother to ask Adler where he was going with you

Whenever it was about you, she and Adler would talk before moving forward with whatever plan in mind

But this time he didn't, and he returned alone

"Where's Bell?"

Adler continues to prove himself as a man who she doesn't like working with, this was the final straw

Professionalism could only go so far, and she makes sure that the MI6 doesn't assign her anymore jobs relating to Adler

Withdraws from the team once her purpose is done, taking any of Bell's leftover possessions for a proper burial

Without any knowledge of your actual background, there's no one to give your things to, so she puts the belongings in a box and buries it six feet under, except for one

She keeps it on her at all times

Sims

He's typically known for being the laid back guy of the group

But upon hearing the news, that persona begins to untangle itself as he loses his composure

He needs to see the body himself, Sims will just keep convincing himself otherwise

his humor turns a bit darker and personal, since its one of his other ways of coping (other than his shrink)

Adler may be his friend but you were the love of his life, so you can catch sims saying things under his breath about Adler (and not in a good way)

buries himself into the world of technology more than usual, just trying to get his mind off of you, but he could only remember your innocent curiosity on the subject

How you continuously asked questions, or inquired him about upcoming releases/productions

Sims craves the assistance you used to offer him

as you would pass him whatever tool he needed while he repaired the cars, but now he could only accidentally call out your name, holding out a hand only to remember that you weren't there to give it to him

Needless to say, he becomes cold and distant for a while as the only thing that needs repairs is his own broken heart :(

Woods

"Wasn't [Y/N] with you?"

Was ready to greet you when you return, about to tell you about something he just found out

But… no.

He runs out of the place, trying to look for you

Takes every goddamn turn and path there is, keeping all of his senses tuned to the max just for any sign of you

When Woods doesn't find you, he returns to punch at Adler, no holding back

"Where the FUCK is Bell?!"

Similar to Mason, he didn't find out about your history till the mission 

When first informed about it, he found himself doubting you and your loyalties a tiny pinch, but having you gone made him realize that he loved you too much to be held back by that idea

But it was already too late to apologize, and he regrets it

Just lies in bed staring at the ceiling while reminiscing about the limited time you both spent together, his heart fucking aching

Will literally grasp his chest and curl himself up into a ball and weep