#also this hoodie? fuckin fire

[spicyraeman]

New Era || New Look

[luck-of-the-drawings]

VIOLATOR!! DESECRATOR!! TURN AROUND AND MEET THE HATER!!

VEEERRRY HAPPY WITH WILLIAMS LIL SCARY ARC. HORROR MOVIE BOY. LIL ZOMBIE GUY. UNDEAD AND PIIIISSED OFF LIKE CMAAAHHHNNN I HOPE HE KEEPS THAT CHAINSAW FOREVER. IF YOURE UNDEAD CAN YOU STILL GET A NICOTINE ADDICTION? I SURE HOPE SO!

[chrolloluvr]

💸 Ways Toxic!Mammon takes over your life as your controlling, doting boyfriend (pt.1?) 💸

Note: Female!Reader, AFAB (Whoever came up w/ voxtok shout out to you!!!), this also takes place before Fizz quit. Also not proofread!

Warnings: semi nsfw, cussing, manipulation, slut shaming, killing, dominance, toxic relationship goals!

Social media. As we all are aware, he has a huge influence online. He has millions and even billion of fans, which he can exploit and persuade very easily. He controls your accounts, people you follow, the things you post (if he even lets you post at all), etc. He controls all of your comments, and filters them. One time, your best friend had left a comment that said, "Damn girl, looking fine ASF", And he was fuming. He forbid you from ever seeing that 'friend' ever again.

You most likely have to make a secret account that you post on. And its very popular. It may consist of you talking about Mammons icks, dancing videos with him (you convinced him, because you told them they were privated.), which all most likely get millions of views. But lets hope Mammon does not find it, or else he will not be happy with you.

How you two as a couple are perceived. He cares alot about his public image. So he will pay out media outlets and news stations to percieve you, himself and your relationship in a good light. So lets say Mammon is getting "cancelled", (he never in a million years actually would, too many people look up to him and adore him.) for bringing supposed groupies backstage after an event he is hosting. Even if he actually did, he would pay the media huuuge amounts of money to get himself out of trouble. Same goes for you. Your poor choices reflect onto him as well, since you two are a very public couple.

Like I have said before in previous posts, you two are definitely the most watched, reported and popular couple in Hell. Sinners and native demons admire the dynamic between you two. So lets say you lash out at a fan for getting their camera too close to you? And then that fan posts footage on Voxtok or Sinstagram, you may get some backlash.

Lets be honest, Mammon probably wont jump to defend you unless it involves him in some way. If it does not involve him, he will block some people by logging into your account, (because he knows all of your passwords), but nothing more.

The clothes you wear. He buys you your clothes, so in his mind, he has every right to choose what goes on your body. If he sees you wearing something revealing, he will tell you 'you look like a slut babe. Where are you going, the fuckin' strip club?' He says shit like that even if your showing an inch of stomach. He for the most part wants you to wear things he chooses. He prefers if you two are matching all the time, but if you are just going out to get groceries, he likes when you wear oversized sweatshirts/hoodies, with leggings. I know its an oddly specific combo, but he thinks it doesn't show off any of your supple skin, and you look so appealing. Especially if its a brand Mammon owns. Mans will go feral. I feel like every time you leave the house with or without him, he will be sitting on the couch, saying 'C'mon, you know the drill cutie. show daddy what your gonna wear, yeah?'

He loves it when he sees you in a natural, underdressed state alone at home. His by far most treasured thing he likes to see on you, is you either in your bra and matching panties, or you in an oversized t shirt and panties with no bra. He especially likes those really dainty, "girly" colors and patterns. He likes seeing you dress feminine.

Calling him daddy. Yes you heard me. He has a huge power influx, and having you call him that fuels the fire in his ego. If its the morning, and you yawn and stretch out a tired, 'good mornin' daddy', he is hard. And this isn't even a fully sexual thing for him, since he isnt all that sexual extremely often. He just loves being called daddy. But if it were somebody else calling him that, they would get the death stare and an upset Mammon. But with you, he likes dominating you. So call him daddy. It will get him in a good mood, and If you want something from him? A daddy or two wont hurt.

Who you talk to. Once you two are together, he with subtly cut people out of your life that he thinks are a threat to your relationship. He will try to cut off any of your male friends or if you had any, your ex's. This sneaky man will probably send photos of you giving him head that he took without your permission. And he will never tell you he did that. Anyways, once he gets rid of all of these people, he will convince you that 'ohhh, princess, c'mon dont get your panties in a twist. Maybe they are just on vacation, you dont gotta act like a little whiny bitch-'. And by vacation, he means threatened, or killed.

He does not want you being influenced by anybody but himself. And especially not by any men. One of his many influx of issues is his jealousy/possession, (which I will get into on another post.) SO really the only other person besides himself that you can talk to are people he has met, and are proven to him to not uphold any power against him.

Meaning he will never let you meet Asmodeus. He is a horrible influence in his mind, and he does not was Ozzie to make you aware of his manipulation tactics. He may let you meet Beelz or Lucifer, but never Ozzie. He is the embodiment of lust, which is like toxic waste for your mind.

You bank account. If you need him to send funds, he will as long as you give him a little kiss on the cheek. But if you have been a bad girl, you might need to work for his money. If he is feeling particularly nice today, he will text you, sending a photo of the transfered funds he sent you, reading 25k+ sent. He loathes in the 'oh no you didn't have to Mamm' he gets from you, or the 'I feel bad, send it back!' Because in reality, he does not like to spend his money on anything useless. And to him, you aren't useless. So sharing some of his "hard earned" cash truly shows how he trusts and believes you wont go out on a limb for him.

And plus, now that your with him, he has taken all of your funds. He wont tell you that, even thought it didn't matter, considering how little you had compared to his trillion dollar net worth. So if you ever do stupidly decide to leave him, you wont be able to.

Puts a tracker on you, or has his goons follow you. This is another thing you are blissfully unaware of. He has an unreleased app on his phone, where he can see wherever you are at all times. While you were sleeping in your shared bedroom, he would put a tracker chip deep into you ear. So that he doesn't have to worry about his most prized possession running away when he isn't around. Or if he cant physically see you and he wants to? He has some loan sharks or his bodyguards follow you silently. I think awhile back, Mammon developed "Mammons Super Secret Spy Glasses", a product made for naive kids, and was released to the masses. But that transformed into an opportunity to exploit his goons into using them to spy on you. Do they want to creepily follow you? No. But can they refuse. Absolutely not. Nobody can refuse Mammon.

If somebody does take you somewhere, he will have his goons kill them, but come to the location and make it look like he killed them for your sake.

Controls where you can and cant go. He 100% does this. He wouldn't even let you in the vicinity of any kind of smoke shop, strip club, etc. He wants you to stay innocent, and naive for him. Meaning he will never let you in the lust ring, which alludes to the fact that him and Ozzie... aren't on the best terms per say. But will let you in any other ring under severe supervision. He cant have you doing any stupid shit to mess with his public image.

He wont even let you roam around in his own ring, because he is well aware of how dangerous it has become. He doesn't want his pretty little thing being kidnapped by some dirty, greasy men on the streets. But if you really want to go somewhere, he will let you go near there, but he will cover your eyes with his top two hands, and guide your waist with his bottom pair of hands somewhere he deems safe.

I also think he would follow you to the bathroom, and he would definitely offer to (does anyways) wipe for you.

How you act. Once you two are together, you will learn things the Mammon way. He will teach you how to become his esteemed future wife, and soon you might even have his kids (when he feels like babytrapping you, but that might be a later work.) He will teach you his version of manners, such as how to sit properly on his lap, teaching you how to french kiss (Which he assumes is your first time kissing somebody), How to sit still properly on his large cock, How to rock your hips just right-

He just wants you to be prepared for him. If he comes home at night, he expects the usual kiss on the cheek, asking him how his day was, and then the finale, which consists of your naked body and your legs being spread wider than his shit eating grin. He just wants to be ready to blow your back out, not having to worry about wasting time.

In the morning, he wants his breakfast served by none other than his obedient little princess. Then, he wants you to personally brush and floss his teeth. Then, he wants you to pick his outfit. (you will never truly get a say, he just wants to know from your perspective what makes him sexier.) And finally, the finishing act, holding your hair tightly into a makeshift ponytail, while he bobs your head up and down his cock.

Sexually frustrating you. After a while, you will miss his sexual touches. You will begin to crave them, as you will find yourself wanting him more and more. He is just so good at eating your pussy, and making you feel like your on cloud 9.

So don't be suprised if you find yourself humping his leg, as he bounces his thigh up and down to try and overstimulate you.

Makes you come to his shows. He will drag you to them. He does not care how tired you are, you will be there and sit pretty. He will let you in for free, but if you want a piece of merchandise, or some popcorn, he will make you pay. (even though its his money). When you first start dating, that is the case. But now that you two are officially an item? You sit up on the terrace with him in his webs. He has two of his left side arms wrapped around you, while he forces you to hand feed him.

And sometimes people catcall you from up above. One time, a couple dudes got drunk of Beelzejuice, and started berading you. By asking you to flash a peek of your tits, and show a little pussy. You were highly offended, but Mammon was not happy.

Those guys ended up in the E.R., but they would have died if it weren't for your expertise in calming Mammons temper. After that little incident, Mammon had later that day taken your ass on a one way ticket to pound town. So you can thank those guys, I guess...

Anyways, what if you need to use the bathroom during a show? He pauses the entire thing, because he wants you to watch how good of a planner and mastermind he is at pageants. Will literally wait outside of the bathroom door for you, and checks his watch if your taking "too long".

But anyways, he will also try to get you and Fizzarolli to be friends, since both of you are basically brainwashed by him.

The things you buy. He will not ever let you buy any cheap shit. Its a bad look on his behalf. So every time you two go out, you have to ask him if you can get something. If he deems it as "not doing anything for your look", he will make you put it back. And this goes for everything. Online orders, Voxtok shop (tiktok shop), etc. It always has to be approved by him.

Also, he will never let you buy any sex toys. He thinks his fingers, tongue and dick are more than plenty. If you ask him for any sex toys, he will call you an ungrateful little whore. So its best if you don't ask, unless you want Mammons over the top mumbling and grumbling.

Emotionally manipulating you. He will do this all the time. If he ever does something wrong, he will never admit to it. He will either never glaze over it, or will turn it on you somehow. It will start with his angry grunting, huffing, and puffing. If you ever ask him if he is ok, he will literally whip his head towards you and give you the most deadly glare you will ever see. His Aussie accent will come out very abruptly when he's mad.

Throw the worlds biggest temper tantrums. Sometimes you think hes a baby in an adult mans body. Some of his have gone on for days on end. He will pull every trick in the book. Whining and fake crying are things he has tried to use on you.

If he is really ruffled up, he will start yelling at you for no reason whatsoever. He just yells a bunch of belligerent bullshit, and does not give any reason why. Truly, the best thing to do to calm him down is spread your legs nice and wide, and let him lap at your cunt for hours. If he is 'borderline dangerous' mad, he will refuse to talk to you for a couple days. Even if you try, he wont budge. Deep down, he cares for you. And he knows that if he gives in, he might hurt you.

If he wants something from you, he will flash his infamous puppy dog eyes. (Bottom photo below), But if he is annoyed with you, he will make the deadly glare (Top photo below)

So, just try your best to keep him calm and happy. Even if that is through means you don think are necessary 💚

[twodimensionalboyfriend]

Sick </3

wc: ~1.3k read time: ~5 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: fluff! smooches here and there i guess! gn throughout! also not proofread lol

I have fucking covid!! my bones are on fire!!!

on a serious note, i have never been sick like this before in my life, i had the worst skin and joint aches i'd ever had in my life and my head felt like it was going to explode with pressure and my ears are still fuckin clogged. so anyways im gonna project my problems into this fic in the order in which i experienced them as a form of therapy and if anybody else is out there sick rn, i hope you have a jason todd to make it bearable!

On a silly note, I met a stray cat in the neighborhood the other day but she's been spayed! im hoping this is the cat distribution system at play

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," you groaned.

You're sitting on the couch trying to convince your boyfriend that you're not sick. It's just allergies! Allergies that come with body aches, pressure in your head, and now a fever.

Jason showed you the thermometer, "Dude, you're running at 100.1..."

You looked at the thermometer incredulously, "Isn't that thing super old? I mean how do we even know it still works? Take it again."

Jason sighed and scanned your forehead again, "Babe, we bought this a couple months ago." He glared at you as he showed you the thermometer again, which now read 100.2.

"Tch, that's barely even a fever," you said rolling your eyes.

"That's it. You're going on bed rest."

"Woah, what?? Jason, I told you I'm fine! Besides I have so much to do today. We need groceries, I have a prescription to pick up, there are so many dishes in the sink, I have laundry to fold and I have work this evening. A little cold isn't... what are you doing?" You cut yourself off as you saw Jason typing on his phone.

"Thanks for the to-do list! While you rest, I'll go and get this done. Grocery list is on the fridge and our pharmacy is in the store, so text me if you need anything else. I am more than capable of doing dishes and laundry, so you don't have to worry about that. And I love you, but you're crazy if you think you're going into work tonight. Text your boss a picture of the thermometer and call out. Or I'll do it for you, whatever you prefer."

"Ar-Are you sure? I mean it's..." You trailed off. You really did feel like shit and it's not like you necessarily wanted to do these errands and chores. After a moment of thinking, you sighed and relented, "Okay, fine, only if you're completely sure you can handle it."

"(Y/N), I'm an adult. If I couldn't do laundry, you should be worried about me." You tried to laugh a little, but it quickly snowballed into a coughing fit, "Woah woah, take it easy. I'm gonna take the list and go to the store. Again, text me if you need anything or if you just wanna say hi," he said with a smile.

Your eyes welled up a bit as you whispered, "Thank you, Jason. I love you very much."

"I love you too, I'll be back soon."

--------

The front door swung open and Jason's voice rang through your shared apartment, "Honey, I'm home!"

You couldn't have gotten up if you tried. You're sickly moan from the couch alarmed Jason, and he dropped the groceries and ran to your side.

You were lying on the couch in your spiderman sweats and a hoodie; your arms draped over your eyes to block out the white lights from the kitchen that added to your headache. Your entire body ached like it never has before. The sight squeezed Jason's heart. "Oh, honey," he said sympathetically, pressing his hands to your cheeks, "Woah, you are burning up! Hang on." He snatched the thermometer from the coffee table and tested his partner. The screen lit up red. It read 101.7.

You mumbled, "H-Holy shit..." It was a bit too much to talk right now.

"Okay babe, I got you some chicken noodle soup because that's what Alfred always made us, and I don't quite have his cooking skills--and this is, uh from a uh... a can--but I'm gonna make some for you, and that should hopefully make you feel better," he looked at you with worry. "Then would you want to watch Pride & Prejudice while I folded the laundry? The movie obviously, since you like it. Even though the show is better," he grumbled at the end.

God damn it. You were crying again.

You were experiencing so many different emotions you didn't really know what else to do. You loved Jason so much and felt so much gratitude for the way he was taking care of you. As if there was nothing else he could possibly be doing right now other than be here. This is on top of the fact that you've been in agony for the past hour as you got worse and worse; and you were really tired of feeling that way.

This shocked and scared Jason, "I'm sorry!! The movie isn't that bad! I just like that the show's more accurate to the book! Also, when Lizzie runs through the rain, why does she grab a soaking wet cloth from the very same rain storm to dry her hair?! I'm sorry I just--"

"I love you so much," you croaked out. "I also feel like fucking garbage."

This put Jason at ease and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm sorry you feel like shit, sweetheart. I do this because I love you too. Like, a lot. Now stop talking and spare your voice. Let's get you cozy and hopped up on vitamin C, and we'll just take it easy."

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

The next morning, you woke up. You sat up slowly and realized most of the pressure in your head is gone. Your body no longer felt like it was on fire! Definitely still congested though. You also realized you fell asleep on the couch after the first proposal, yet you were currently sitting in your bed. Jason must've brought you in. Suddenly, a sneeze crept up and exploded out of you. Then another. Then one more. Jesus, that hurt your chest.

Your fit was loud enough to let Jason know you had woken up. He came into the room holding a spatula. The opened door let in a sweet smell and a sizzling sound. "How are you feeling, baby?" He walked towards you.

"Well I can bear to be conscious, so I'd say much better. What's going on in the kitchen?"

He pressed his hand to your forehead and said, "Pancakes! And lots of orange juice. I don't think you’re in the clear yet. Sit tight; I'm gonna get the thermometer and take your temperature."

Ignoring his request, you got up to meet him in the living room. You stepped out of the bedroom and was met with the sight of Jason discarding the pancake that had burned due to his doting. He saw you walking towards him and urged you to go back to bed, "Go back! I'm gonna bring you breakfast in bed. Pancakes, juice, fruit, the whole shebang."

"No it's okay, let me be out here with you. I'd kiss you good morning, but I fear I might poison you and get you sick."

Jason stole a quick kiss, much to your surprise, "I spent all night with you. If I were to get it, I don't think a kiss would be what seals my fate. You're plate is ready, by the way."

He handed you a plate stacked with 3 pancakes and a butter slice, drizzled in maple syrup with strawberries and whipped cream. It was beautiful, "Oh my god, Jason, that's so gorgeous I don't think I can eat it." Your stomach growled and promptly gave away your true feelings.

"Tear it up, baby girl."

You sat down as Jason finished making his stack. He sat down with you and you both began eating. Pre-packaged pancake mix has never tasted so good.

"Thank you for nursing me back to health, Jason. You've made this past few days in unbearable hell feel more like a manageable limbo."

He laughed, "What else was I supposed to do? Let the love of my life suffer?"

"God I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you in my life."

"Well, fortunately, you'll never have to." He leaned over the table and pressed a syrupy kiss to your lips.

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

[callivich]

I HAD to write a little something based on @golden28s’s headcanon “mickey steals ian's hoodies and sweaters and claims he doesn't do that while wearing one of them but ian loves it so he doesn't complain that much.”

——

“Looking cute there, Mr Gallagher.” Ian smirks, he always loves it when Mickey wears his clothes. It’s a particularly big hoodie he’s thrown on, one that hangs low over his sweatpants with sleeves that cover his hands.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Mickey fixes Ian with a glare as he stomps over to the couch and sits down.

“Love it when you wear my stuff.” Ian sits next to him and grabs his legs, throwing them over his own.

“Not wearing your stuff.”

“You are. That’s mine.”

“Nah.”

“The fuck? Yes, it is.”

“Nah.” Ian can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His husband wants to pretend. Whatever. Two can very much play that game.

“Oh. Sure. Ok. That’s yours. You must have shrunk in the night then? Gotten even smaller.” Ian replies, all nonchalant.

“Fuckin…smaller?” Mickey splutters. Yeah, Ian tries very hard not to smile at the instant annoyance he’s caused.

“Mmm, so much smaller. All wrapped up in that big hoodie that’s yours.”

Mickey is attempting to glare at him with all his might but he’s also clearly trying to fight back a laugh. “Fuck you.” He huffs, giving in. “Yeah, alright. This might be yours.”

“Might be, huh?”

Mickey fixes him with a heated look and fiddles with the hem of the hoodie for a moment before pulling it off and throwing it in Ian’s face. “Have it back then.”

He sits back, shirtless and lit by nothing but the light from their fire. Ian holds the hoodie in his hands before letting it slip to the floor, he mutters something about Mickey looking cold before he pounces. Much to Mickey’s delight.

[lldolphin]

¤INFARED¤ 2

the second chapter of a jtk x reader saga series...

ᯓᡣ𐭩

a/n; not every chapter will have these little author's notes, but I just wanted to say that my requests are VASTLY open. My inbox is a VOID of nothingness. Send me some interesting requests! I also have to say that this chapter will contain the burn scene and is THANKFULLY proofread. Im adding little recaps to the starts of the chapter's aswell!

RECAP ~ in a frivolous game of hide and seek with the young children at the party keith, troy, and randy found jeff hiding in the closet. a childish game turns into a disaster.

"Definitely not even," Keith grumbled. You heard the sound of fabric being pulled. Behind your closed eyes, you thought they had pushed back the hoodies covering you. But when your eyes opened, looking through the cracks of the hung jackets, you see the three boys dragging Jeff down the stairs, where he was thrashing.

This wasn't your business. You shake your head and let out a hitched gasp, running out of the closet and around the other exit, looking back at the scene before deciding if you really wanted to just leave.

But you were naïve, driven by pure emotion rather than logic in this young juvenile stage of your life. Albeit, you prided yourself on being so much more witty and clever than the others in your age group, all teenagers react the same.

It didn't help that the rowdy part of you was attracted to this long, raven grudge-haired male. He had a stalky and scary presence to him. Something forbidden, something that shouldn't be worth your time. You wondered why you hadn't gone for his brother, the normal one. The one who could promise you a sealed future. The type of guy you could bring home to your mother and leave with a good impression.

"Fuckin' asshole!" An almost scream from Jeff snapped you out of your trance. Children broke into wails and commotion occurred downstairs while you sat in the closet swooning over the boy being tormented downstairs.

You get up on your feet, your socks sweeping briefly against the bungy carpeted floor as you dash down the stairs. The wood under the plush carpet creaks at your fast movements. You swing around on the railing and sprint out the open patio door, your hands reaching to cover your mouth the second you see Jeff beating Troy bloody to the floor.

Liu was held back by groups of parents you saw tears streaming down his usually calm and collected face as he reached out for his brother. Why was nobody stopping anything? Why weren't you doing anything? Your body couldn't move...stuck in place like you were glued down. Your heart ran cold when a white bottle of lighter fluid fills your feild of vision.

"Fuck it, little bitch...New kid thinkin' he can just say whatever the fuck he wants. Hold him down for fucks sake!" Keith yelled to his other friends, like soldiers they clicked into gear and did what they were told. Jeff was silent, his blues wide and his breath quickened. For once he wasn't so sure what to do. No witty comebacks, no smartass remarks. Keith shittily poured it over him and lit a match. It all happened in such a quick moment to get away with it infront of almost everyone.

"Keith stop!" Yelled various parents, his mother running out and ripping him apart from the scene. The force caused the lighter to fall from his grubby hands. Troy and Randy flinched back once Jeff was set ablaze. All you did was watch while hos screams filled your head.

You squeaked, falling as your behind hit the floor when multiple parents ran forward, pushing you out of the way to get to Jeff. Swarms of adults surrounded him, putting out the fire almost as soon as it was lit. There was no way he would leave unscared, though. You turned, locking eyes with Liu, you two being the only ones behind the large crowd.

Jeff was still screaming, hissing. The pain must've been the worst imaginable, you couldn't bear to hear his screams in your ears. Tears left their ducts and poured down your cheekbone.

You stumble up with scraped knees, hissing and holding the center of your back, your tailbone ached with a stunging pain. It couldn't have ever been worse than being burned. Stumbling over to Liu, your voice croaks;

"I think he'll be okay.."

"I'm...I'm sure physically. I'm not so sure mentally." He followed with, both of you staring out somberly to the crowd as sirens wail in the background.

to be continued...

another quick a/n! i dont remember if ive mentioned this before, but i made liu not in jail in this because the "beat up scene" in my rewrite happened at school and he only got iss to make it a bit more realistic. also, i made the burns so very breif because the way i canonically imagine jeff, he only jas burns on his hands and up his legs, some on his lower torso aswell. im planning on drawing the creepypastas how i imagine them in my writings and posting them on my masterlist which is in PROGRESS. sorry this was short! hope you enjoyed loves<3

[ase-trollplays]

A small black backpack is also left at Corali's work, containing an unmarked package and a letter stating "FROM CORALI". The package contains a bomb- One that explodes if the package is tampered with, though the explosion is minor and would only maim whoever opened it, and cause some damage to the surrounding area via fire and shrapnel. Whoever left it was wearing all black and a hoodie obscuring their face.

When Corali arrived to work that night -- She was desperate for a distraction from what happened the night before -- she was greeted to the sight of an ambulance taking someone away and damage to the bar. There were large scorch marks on the outside and shrapnel everywhere. She rushed over to ask what happened when she spotted a severed arm about three feet away from the building. Specifically Aeriol's arm, the bar's owner, if the yellow blood was anything to go by.

"Kierii, what happened here!?" Corali asked the bartender, who looked incredibly shaken up. They were bloodied with several cuts, and they second they saw Corali their expression turned into a harsh glare.

"I dunno, why don't you tell me??" they spat and pulled a singed note from their pocket that read "FROM CORALI." At this point a couple of the other staff arrived on the scene and stared in confusion and fear at the sight. The rust's expression immediately soured and contorted from concern into rage. She snatched the note from them and tore it to pieces.

"Y'all think I did this!? All y'all know me! I ain't no coward leavin' bombs fer people! I get my fuckin' hands dirty!" Corali shouted in indignant fury. Kierii grabbed her by the collar with both hands and forced her down to their eye level, then used one hand to point to the arm on the ground.

"You see that? That's Aeriol's -- my ashen's -- arm! It got blown off the second he moved the bag with the bomb in it!" she screeched with tears of anger now forming at the corners of her eyes. "We know you didn't do it. The person the cameras caught looks nothing like you, but whatever grudge you have with them is blowing back on us."

They released her with a shove, though with their smaller stature Corali didn't even budge, and glared up at her.

"You're done working here. Don't come back."

Corali stared at them in shock and disbelief for a few moments before finally finding her words. "Are y'all fuckin' kiddin' me!!? Yer gon' can me fer somethin' some coward ass chicken shit did??"

"Yeah! Because that 'coward ass chicken shit' targeted us to get to you and almost killed someone! And if you stay here, they're gonna come back and do even more damage!"

"This ain't my fault! Why--"

"I DON'T CARE!!! We're not safe with you here! Get the fuck off our property!!"

Corali let out a loud frustrated, furious shout before turning around and storming off. Freshly out of work again on top of her would-be pale being most likely kidnapped was the final straw. She angrily made her way to a familiar store she hadn't visited in seven perigees. The clerk at the counter jolted when she slammed the door open and stomped her way to the counter.

"Shit, Corali, it's been ages! Wha--"

"My usual order! Now!" she barked at him and slammed a fist on the counter. He backed up considerably before running off to gather a variety of booze and liquor he hadn't had to remember in a very long time.

Tonight, she was running away from her problems the best way she knew how.

[universalcollisionleaks00]

Universal Collision: Meet the Adventurer Support Assists!

Name: Retrospecter

Class: 5★

Summoner/Duo: No

🎂Birthday🎂: No

Weapon Type: Sword (EX Weapon: Wrath's Rage)

Current character status: Released

Info (From FNF mods Wiki)

RetroSpecter is the first of seven opponents. He represents the sin of Wrath.

Appearance (some assists may have appearance info if their description is too short)

RetroSpecter is a lizard-like demon. He has a cyan color scheme with horns that have green ends, and he also has blueish white hair. He wears a blue hoodie and dark gray pants, both of which are fireproof.

VC

It's time we fuckin' end this! - Activate Lunatic (Risktaker) on user (First time; 3 Turns) + Fire type magic attack on all enemies (XL)

Skills / Abilities

Lunatic (Risktaker) - Activate Lunatic with Status Risktaker on user (3 turns).

◦ +70% damage and healing of all party members (Multiplier: x1.7)

◦ Critical rate and Magic critical rate of all party members +100% (continuous)

◦ Damage on self 20% of current HP before any attack move

Activate Berserker form upon activating Risktaker

Upon activating Berserker and user dies, restore HP to 100% and extend lunatic by 5 turns (Once)

Epitome of Dracula - Shadow type Slash/Magic attack on all enemies (XL) + power of user +40% (3 Turns) + double if in Berserker form

Demon Slayer Slash - Combined Fire and Water type attack on all enemies x2 (XL) + Fire, Water, and slash resistance of all enemies -50% (3 turns) + type attacks & Critical rate of all allies +75% (3 actions)

Enrage - physical resistance of user +80% (3 Turns) + inflict rage on all enemies (100% chance; 3 Turns)

(Berserker) Engulfing Flame - Fire type magic attack on all enemies (XL) + Fire/Shadow type attack of user +100% (1 Move) + Critical rate of user +100% (5 Moves) + Stack Sin on user (Max Stack: 5)

Sin: M.ATK increases for every Sin stacked: +10%/+20%/+25%/+30%/+40% (Replaces Demon Slayer Slash)

(Berserker) Infernal Demise - Combined Fire and Shadow type Magic attack on a single enemy (2XL) + Speed of user +50% (3 Turns) (Consumes all Sins stacked)

[ducknotinarow]

❤️ for Rasey 2k12

| Send ❤️ to grab my muse and kiss the HELL out of them.

Oh sweet sweet freedom at last! Was Raphael's first thought the second he stepped foot out in the alleyway he was making how way into now from the manhole cover. He took in the biggest, deepest breath of smoggy, cool city air he could. Slightly coughing right after. Hard enough for tears to pickle at the corn of his eyes. He continued to scrambled his way out. Not wanting to waste a second or chance a change in Splinters mind about freeing him from grounding. He may be 18 and by human logic an adult. But by Splinter's logic he was still in his teens, a child and that meant when he broke crew few he was grounded. Well not to mention the bit of trouble he got into that caused him to break crew few if it had just been that? Then yeah Raph would have likely only just gotten a restriction on the crew few over not being allowed to leave for two weeks. And no visitors allowed either.

Raph started to scale up the fire escapes to make his way up to the roof, happily loving the feeling of the metals vibrating under his feet god he missed this. Fine it was only two weeks but that had been the longest he has gone with out the feeling of freedom! Though it was also the longest he has gone with out Casey. The worst part of that grounding period. Checking his phone for where they were meant to meet up. Just a couple blocks away. They wanted to make up for loss time, likely they would just tag some walls, maybe play some stick hockey. Well Raph was hoping for a different kind of hockey game as well. Didn't take him long to get to the run down little city park they were planing to be their meeting spot for the night.

Casey of course that big fuckin' sap was there already waiting up for Raphael. The turtle paused just looking out at his boyfriend. Bike resting up against the bike rack as they were doing the same against the play set. Raph just smirked to himself as he was about to jump right down to them, deciding to instead quietly make his way down to Casey. Foot steps light to avoid the slightest sound to give him away as he made his way up the play set. Stomach against cheap wood as he crawled over to the edge. Smirking at Casey from above reaching down to snag their bandanna sift and quickly jerking his arm back as he pulled it free from their head.

"aw bandit, ain't ya just cute there waitin' up for little 'ol me." casually twirling their bandana around his finger as he taunted them a little. "man you're so whipped." as if the turtle had any room to talk. He finally moved up to sit in the edge of the playset, before pushing off against it to drop down beside them. "Jeez someone might just think ya missed me or somethin' was only two weeks but I know hard to go with out me in yer life uh?" As if the turtle hadn't darted right out of the lair the second Splinter said he had served his time. Holding up their bandanna for them to take back. Only to jerk his arm away keeping just out from their reach.

Okay, he was still feeling just a bit in a mood to mess around with Casey. Blame it on going stir crazy locked up in the lair. Worse because all his brothers were able to go out all they had wanted too, and rubbed it in his face. He wasn't even allowed to train in the dojo outside daily practice! so pent up was also how he felt. And well Casey was his favorite person to mess around with which was why he was picking a fight already. Going to put their bandanna on top of his own head. Not out right calling attention to what he was doing more focused on poking fun at his boy friend. Moving in closer to them needing to lift to his tip toes as he took hold of Casey's hoodie tugging them down. Man he missed them so much, but he didn't go for a kiss nah he was still in a mood. Waiting for a sing that Casey was expecting the kiss as he grinned wide and with just so much grace, let out his tongue and licked it across Casey's face. Chuckling as he let them go and step back, in all fairness it was a bit of a show of affection just not very romantic.

Fingers moved to open up his mouth as he let his tongue hang out "what's a matter lover boy looking for a smooch? come and get it then." just a playful game of chase going on now as Raph was keeping just a bit of way from Casey's grasp, till tripping back over a balance beam on the playground falling back on his shell. Casey having him where he wanted. Raph paused to look up at them face slightly tinted with a blush as Case clambered over him keeping them down to the wood chips they were meant to act as padding for the place. Raph hand to wonder how humans thought wood chips were soft enough to fall on, as he was sure a few were jobbing him right now. Luckily his mind was taken off how uncomfortable they were, as Case got his hands on his face and started to plant kiss after kiss on to him. Raph could help the laugh that was working out from his shell right now. A soft low churr bubbled out from the back of his throat as he soaked in the affection. A near enough purr leavening him as Casey seemed to press his lips to every open spot he could on him. Raph Reached up to take hold of Casey's face in turn now. Sighing out as green eyes grew soft looking at them. "I miss ya too." moving to sit up now going in for a kiss when he once again took the chance to swipe his tongue up across Casey's face "Bleeh" he went on to say to add to the action unable to start how he laughed after, as he fell back on the wood chips with a laugh.

[ecliip]

doodles of the sona!! ft deimos madness combat. hate this fuckin thingy (its me i am the thingy)

also trivia about em under the cut if youre interested

- technically this thing has three names: Eclipse, Ecliip, and a secret third option, Eclyph. Eclyph is like a combo of Eclipse and Glyph that i came up with bc i was bored and thought it sounded cool, and that name is exclusive to the sona, while i share the other two with them

- despite what i claim, the sona WAS a little inspired by sans undertale. its mostly just the inveted eyes, those carried over from a previous sona to this one, and that previous sona was inspired by an old oc who had inverted eyes because i took them from sans and slapped em on. a good portion of my ocs have inverted eyes like that because i like it and it kicks ass

(the blue hoodie, white skin, and general face shape were added independent of sans undertale, but when you compare them side by side they do look similar which is why im gonna experiment with different outfits for them because IM NOT SANS)

- the reason why im a demon is because my previous sona was an angel-adjacent thing. i experimented around with the new sona in my head for a bit, considering keeping the angel motif or just disregarding it, but i decided to go the opposite way and be a cutesy lil demon

- yes the skin is squishy like a marshmellow! and probably sweet like one too. if you roasted them over a fire until theyre golden brown they'd probably taste really yummy for a moment until you get to the blood and stuff

- speaking of blood, their blood is black and kinda thick, sorta tar-like. tastes smokey n a little salty. basically, biting into them would be like biting into a sweet and savory gushers candy

- you dont know how much i wish i looked like this in real life I WANT A TAIL I WANT CLAWS I WANT HORNS AAAAAAA

- schrodingers organs. has them or doesnt have them based on whatevers most convenient

- according to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a Eclyph should be able to fly. their wings are too small to get their fat little body off the ground. the Eclyph, of course, flies anyway, because Eclyph don't care what humans think is impossible

[frogtanii]

this was... weird.

the house was completely quiet, for the first time in what felt like weeks and osamu felt very out of place.

despite being so far removed from everyone besides his girlfriend, he enjoyed the noisiness and bustle that came from all the other members.

osamu never had been a fan of the quiet.

all it did was remind him that he was alone — that he was the lesser twin, the one always left behind, the one that would remain alone while his brother basked in the limelight.

but now, that wasn’t the case! osamu had meiko and he used to have daichi and iwaizumi but ever since iwa was fired and daichi disappeared off the face of the planet, he was down two friends. that was okay! his was doing what he loved with the woman he loved and that was all that mattered.

a loud clang followed by a quiet curse shook osamu from his thoughts. he gently placed the knife he was using to prep his vegetables down before following the noise to the pantry where he found... you.

you were sitting on the floor of the pantry wearing hello kitty patterned pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and a hoodie with your hand in a bag of chips and a pan sat by your foot. belatedly, osamu recognized that you must’ve knocked over the pan after falling while trying to grab your snack.

you were cute, with your sleep mussed hair and confused expression, he briefly thought but he swiftly squashed that line of reasoning down.

he was in a happy, committed relationship and he didn’t need you to change that like you changed everything else in his life. after all, you were the reason atsumu hated him now and never spoke to him anymore. you were the reason he had to avoid going home for fear of his grandmother asking what atsumu was up to because he had no idea. you were the reason he and his twin drifted apart. it was all you.

before osamu knew it, that moment of endearment had passed and was instead replaced by anger.

“what the hell are ya doin’ here?” osamu scoffed coldly, staring down at you with fire in his eyes. you sighed and stood before skirting past him and walking out into the kitchen.

“i live here asshole,” you muttered, searching for your phone in order to go back to hiding in your room until the boys got back. you wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible but unfortunately, osamu had different plans.

he slid out in front of you, keeping you from leaving the kitchen and effectively trapping you in the encounter. “ya know that’s not what i meant. what were ya doing spying on me? gonna report back to yer little harem?”

you felt your face curl up in confusion which osamu apparently wasn’t a fan of, judging by the deepening of his sneer. “i have no idea what you’re talking about osamu, now let me go.” you attempted to push past him but he was too tall, too large, too strong and you were forced further back behind the island.

“no, i know ya tell em things about me. what were ya gonna make up this time, hm? what were ya gonna say to tsumu to make him hate me even more?” he spoke down on you, his words filling with more and more venom, and as much as you hated it, you couldn’t keep yourself from cowering in front of him, your eyes filling with tears.

“osamu, please let me go, i don’t know what’s happening and i don’t know what to tell you to make you leave me alone,” your voice came out as a whimper, despite your best efforts and osamu faltered.

he’d never seen you like this, not once in your whole time living in the house, not even when most of the members were against you. you never showed weakness — you had a quiet strength most of the time and when you really got mad, as evidenced by your fight with meiko, you got violent.

but this? this was nothing like you. you were practically curling in on yourself, your arms wrapped around your chest protectively as if you were afraid he would... hit you.

oh god, oh god, osamu thought as he took a step back. what the fuck was he doing? he’d just been yelling at you, cornering you and not giving you room for escape, even though your body was clearly begging for it. you viewed him as a legitimate threat to your safety and that thought chilled him to the bone.

“yn, i—“ osamu was interrupted by the door slamming open, revealing everyone returning from the mall with atsumu at the head of the group.

“tsumu!” you choked out before pushing past a now distracted osamu and running right into his twin’s arms. he wrapped them protectively around you while whispering reassurances to you before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

the two of you held a quiet conversation that no one else could hear but osamu could guess the contents when atsumu glared up at him, looking absolutely furious.

sakusa, kuroo, and kenma gently took you into their arms, allowing you to cry quietly while atsumu stomped over to osamu before jamming his finger into his twin’s chest.

“what the hell did ya do to her, samu?” he growled, shoving osamu’s back into the island behind him. osamu allowed him to, too in shock and ashamed to protest, much less fight back.

that didn’t stop atsumu from pressing, asking question after question, none of which osamu could answer. “answer me! open yer fuckin mouth asshole and answer me!”

“atsumu, i-i’m sorry, i-“

“baby!”

a force barreled into his chest, thin arms wrapping around his waist and shoving her face in between his pecs. “it’s okay baby, i’m here,” meiko whispered in between kisses to his collarbone, her presence doing little to soothe him as his eyes darted around the room.

atsumu still looked as angry as ever but he kept his mouth shut as meiko rubbed more of her makeup on osamu’s black t shirt in her attempts to comfort him. you were staring him down as well with tear tracks staining your cheeks as sakusa rubbed circles into your back and kenma wrapped his arms around your waist. sugawara, bokuto, and kuroo were standing at your sides, eyeing him with contempt while oikawa and akaashi were deep in conversation with yachi who seemed to be stressed out of her mind.

osamu searched further and his eyes landed on daichi standing the furthest away, his eyes fixed on where meiko lied in osamu’s arms, his face full of hurt and... disdain? anger? disgust?

it was confusing so osamu quickly averted his eyes, instead choosing to focus on the woman in his arms who was now whimpering and shaking in her 4 inch heels. hesitantly, he lifted his arms to hold her closer before bending his head to breathe her in, his eyes fluttering shut at her unique smell of hairspray, brown sugar perfume, and chinese food.

“osamu,” sugawara spoke up after a moment of silence, “there’s something i need to tell you. we saw meiko ki-“

“babe? what’s going on?” a new voice rang out from the still open doorway, meiko clearly recognizing it as her head darted up to watch as the group moved from the door to reveal...

“...suna?”

℗ poker face

disruption

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - AHAHAHHAAH >:3 i was wayyy too excited for this chapter muahahha also so many of y’all guessed suna right but i couldn’t answer cs i rlly wanted it to be a surprise!!!! soooo if u guessed it right, feel like a baddie :) KSJ m so so excited to see y’all’s reactions so don’t forget to feed me ;)))))

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[finelinevogue]

for tour content, maybe you could do an imagine that’s like a series of small moments like little interactions on stage or picking tour outfits or nights in the tour bus/airplane ! just little domestic things <3

i’m going to do this because i have so many weird ideas and just no way of putting them all together ! ;

Grilled Cheese Conversations

The tour bus smelt like it was on fire.

You had been sitting in the living room with Harry for a couple of hours, both of you just skimming through photos from the Met Gala together - judging obviously, before Harry announced he wanted to make himself some food and so left for the kitchen.

He’d been in there for 45 minutes now and the smells that were diffusing from their smelt bloody awful. Harry could cook really extravagant foods, like caviar and lobster, but when it came to something as simple as making a sandwich he was absolutely terrible for some reason. The point was proven when he walked back into the room with a burnt coal looking sandwich.

“What, is that?” You laughed, still sitting with your phone in your hand and waiting for him to come back so you could continue judging these Met outfits together.

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich?” He spoke as if you were dumb and you should have known that instantly. He walked over to you, sitting down next to you and resting the plate on the table in front of him.

“No, that’s a piece of char.” You raised your eyebrows disapprovingly and watched as he scowled at you for being mean to his culinary skills.

“Well i’m sure it’ll taste great.” He looked smug, up until he took a bite from the cheesy melted - burnt - bread. As soon as the food touched his tongue he was quick to spit it back out again, you groaning in disgust. He pushed the plate away and looked at it in anger. “45 bloody minutes and it tastes of burnt wood.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know that.” You raised your hands and laughed, watching as he turned to scowl at you again. He had quite the angry face when he wanted to. “Sorry, alright! Do you want me to go make you one?” You asked, sitting up to go and make him one if he wanted.

Harry pulled you into his lap so you were sat with your back to his front, his arms looping around your waist tightly to keep you with him. His chin rested on your shoulder and he kissed your cheek because he could. “No. Stay w’me.” He got all cuddly and soft and you loved it when Harry was like this. He was like a life-size version of your stuffed teddy bear you used to sleep with at night - all cute and cuddly.

“Okay, okay.” You calmed him when he thought you were just going to get up and go. “Let’s judge some people again.” You pulled out your phone and opened it to a twitter account which had posted all of them.

“Where did we get up to?” Harry asked, fiddling with the skin on your stomach as his hands snaked beneath your hoodie.

“Um, Kim K.” You clicked on the image of her and tried to hold back the laugh. It was a dreadful outfit and highly meme worthy, so you’ve heard.

“Well…” Harry sighed, reaching his own hand to swipe seeing as he didn’t have anything more to say on this particular one.

“Billie looked beautiful.” You smiled as Billie’s huge dress came on display, looking a fluffy pink marshmallow dream. She looked very Monroe with her makeup and you were always so shocked when people told you her age, because she looked so mature.

“She must’ve taken inspiration from Marilyn Monroe.” Harry added, nodding in approval of Billie’s outfit.

“More so than bloody Addison Rae.” You laughed, thinking about how far that had been from the truth.

“Addison who?” Harry asked and it made you smile and turn your head around to look at him. He looked down at you, noticing the cheeky glint in your eyes and couldn’t help but steal a glance at your beautiful lips.

“This is why I love you.” You sighed happily and gave him a kiss on the lips, cupping his cheek to direct him better. You were only going for a peck, but Harry made it that you got the full taste of him and kissed you for a minute longer. He felt perfect against you and you really did just simply love him.

“Yeah,” Harry broke from the kiss for a brief moment to tell you something important, “and I love you.”

••••

All Things Sparkles

It was an hour before the Dallas show and Harry was getting ready for another big show.

Dallas were known for being crazy and you were so excited for the energy they’d bring for Harry tonight. Harry always enjoyed the shows more when the crowd was actually ecstatic to be there and he knew Dallas wouldn’t let him down.

He was putting on his silk trousers, Lambert just to the side as he was ironing the shirt to get rid of all its crinkles. Your Harry currently looked so funny in his Gucci silk trousers, his bright yellow socks with bananas all over them, his suspenders hanging down by his sides and no shirt on as of yet. It was the socks that really pieced everything together. He had just had his hair and makeup done, just needing to get dressed before he was completely ready.

He was really glowing tonight. It made you happy to see him like this.

You were watching him through the vanity mirror as you touched up your own makeup, adding highlighter to the areas you wanted to shine a little brighter. You also started adding some gems around your eyes, wanting to be a bit different tonight along with your glittery eye shadow that you didn’t normally do. You were glueing your gems when you felt your boyfriends presence behind you, the heat of his bare chest radiating against the skin of your back.

“You look stunning, m’love.” You looked up through the vanity to catch his gaze, he smiled and you smiled back.

“Thank you. Not too bad looking y’self.” You cheekily replied, motioning towards his bare chest. “Are y’going to be keeping that out all night?” You asked, being hopeful that he would, because fuck it was hot, but also wouldn’t, because you wanted this part of him all to yourself.

“You’d like that wouldn’t y’yeah.” He squinted his eyes at you and nodded, a clear sign that no his tits were not going to be out for Dallas. “Up.” He spoke, lifting you up from under your armpits and walking around the chair so that he could sit down himself. He plonked you right back on top of his lap and watched as you leant forwards to add another gem to the corner of your eye.

“Y’putting me off.” You whined, your ass leaning right back onto the hard of his cock. He couldn’t keep soft around you, that was his kryptonite.

“Oh i’m sorry. It’s not like m’girlfriend is just sitting there looking ridiculously beautiful and yet so innocent.” He leaned forwards to whisper the rest of his words, because they were only for you. “Just look so fuckable right now.”

You had to bite your tongue from turning around and shoving it down his throat, because god did his words make you want to jump his bones. “Shut up, before y’get us both in trouble.” You wiggled your ass back over his cock as you sat back to admire the work of the gems brightening up around your eyes.

“Then stop being a fuckin’ tease.” He grabbed your hips and stopped your from moving anymore. You just smiled and put the lid back on the glue before it went everywhere, especially over Harry’s expensive clothing - even the banana socks were £17.

You looked at him through the mirror to find him already looking at you. You blushed quietly as you watched him take in your beauty. It was quite hard to get over just how ethereal he looked tonight and it made you so feral knowing he was all yours and only yours. Looking down at the gems you got an idea.

“Do y’want me to put some gems on y’too?” You asked, pointing to the ones around your eyes and thinking that he’d looked even prettier with some around his.

“Only if i’m matching w’you yeah.” Harry nodded excitedly. You got up from the chair and swizzled yourself around until you were sat back on his lap, only this time straddling him. You were so close to him now that it was getting ridiculously harder to stop yourself from taking him here and now. You leant down, instead, and gave him a lasting kiss on the skin covering his heart. Your lips lingered there for a moment, before you moved back up to see him already staring down. He smiled when he saw the stain of your lipstick printed over where his heart beat. “I proper love you, Y/N.” He smiled and cupped your chin in his fingers to bring your lips to him.

“No!” Lambert shouted, making you two pause. “You two’ll never stop if you start, so don’t start until after the bloody show.” He rolled his eyes and continued with his ironing, making you and Harry chuckle feeling like high-school kids.

“Okay, now stay still.” You spoke as you glued the first gem and held it steady against the corner of his eye. He wanted to keep his eyes open to keep looking at you, because that’s all he ever wanted to do, but you instructed him to close them just to be on the safer side. It went on easy, sticking to the outer corner of his eye, in a soft white colour that matched his trousers. Yours were the same creamy white colour to match the colour of your dress.

“Do I look pretty yet?” Harry asked rhetorically, but you replied anyways.

“Y’look pretty always.” You kissed the top of his nose whilst you glued the other gem. He closed his eyes as you told him to, but he still smiled at your words. You concentrated as you stuck the gem to the corner of the other eye and sat back to make sure they were even. Harry opened his eyes to see you making sure they looked good. “S’perfect.”

“Like you then.” He hummed in appreciation of you.

“Let’s see then.” Lambert asked, making you both turn in the chair to face him and you readjusting yourself so you were sat back against his chest. “Oh yes! Okay this is photo worthy.” Lambert took out his phone and held it up to face you both, making sure you could see the gems.

“I don’t even have a shirt on!” Harry exclaimed, but held you close anyways as you smiled for the photos and his words making you belly laugh. You posed more seriously for a few and then took a few silly ones to. Your favourite one, though, was one where you were laughing so happily and Harry was looking at you and smiling in awe over you.

He set it as his lock screen. You set it as yours. It would stay that way until your new favourite photos became your wedding day photos.

••••

Sign Of The Times

Tonight was the first Love on Tour show you were attending, only having missed opening night in Las Vegas.

Harry knew that you were coming, but you’d told him to source you out within the crowds because you wanted a full fan experience. You’d gotten the all-clear from Harry’s security, allowing your from backstage and straight through into the cherry pit. You had your lanyard and your sign ready, as fans started to pile in. You were originally going to go straight to the barricade, but you thought the fans deserved that more than you so you hung back and stayed the ends of the crowds.

A few fans spotted you and came up to asking for photos, so you did. Posing with your mask on was weird because you still smiled underneath the mask even though it wouldn’t be seen in the photo. Some fans asked whether they could stay and dance with you ask night to which you were so happy for, because dancing alone would’ve been embarrassing even for you.

The intro for golden started and the crowds were deafening, but all you could think about was your boyfriend and his challenge to spot you within the crowds. Golden and Carolina came and went, you dancing like a crazed fan along with all your new friends. Everyone was so happy and some were even crying tears of joy.

There was just love, love, love, everywhere.

Harry came to his first pause and took a quick drink since he was already quite hot and the altitude in Denver was crazy.

“Good evening Denver!” He shouted into the mic, waiting for the screams of his fans to uproar and then settle before speaking on, “The altitude is crazy here. I’ve barely done anything and I can’t breathe!” He spoke, making you slightly anxious for him but you knew he would be okay because he had an oxygen tank on stage. “Now, m’girlfriend is somewhere here tonight and i’ve gotta find Y/N before I lose the challenge.”

The fans around you started screaming that you were here and the message kept on getting passed down the crowds until they reached the front. Harry was walking around your side of the stage until he met the fans at the front saying that you were behind them. Harry held his hand over his eyes to help him find you better and you held up your sign to help him. Your sign had taken you all of 5 minutes to doodle, but the message was clear;

“I want a kiss from the one in suspenders.”

“There y’are.” He laughed when he saw your sign, dropping his mic and leaning over himself to catch his breathe from the belly laugh that he just let out. You smiled when you saw him laugh, the fans around you screaming and thanking you for making him be this way. Harry stood up and looked at you, messing with his earpiece so he could hear the arena better.

“Kiss me!” You shouted and the people around you were also shouting for him to kiss you. Even with masks on Harry could clearly understand the message.

“I wanna kiss you but I can’t!” He spoke through his mic and his voice echoed throughout the arena, making everyone scream and you simply blush. You knew he couldn’t come and just give you a kiss, it would be too dangerous, but he sent you loads of blown kisses instead and you kept them all. You sent your own back and he stuffed them all in his back pocket, before moving on to his next song before he got told off.

“Damn, he really loved you.” One of your new fans friends says next to you and all you could think was; yeah, yeah he does.

••••

My Only Angel*

For four hours he had been gone.

Four hours since he was in this hotel room with you. Four hours since you had first started acting like a brat. Four hours since he’d gotten fed up of our attitude and tied you up and left a vibrator pulsing against your clit. Four hours since your first orgasm, four minutes since your last.

The whole time Harry had been on stage, all he could think about was you being bound tight in his hotel room and dripping wet from the number of orgasms you would’ve had. He knew you’d never be able to hold yourself for four hours, so he didn’t say you couldn’t cum only he forgot to mention that the number of times that you did cum would be the number of times he denied you later on in the evening. Harry had gotten especially hard performing Only Angel, because that was your song that he’d written for you and then fucked you countless times to. Fans noticed, but put it down to the adrenaline of being onstage rather than the thought of his girlfriend being tied up and overstimulated back in his hotel room.

You just came down from the high of another orgasm when Harry walked through the door. You sighed when you saw him, thinking this would finally be it and he’d let you go free now you’ve suffered your punishment. That was wishful thinking, however.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Harry pretended, wanting to tease you as much as possible, as he walked past you and hung his jacket on the back of a chair.

“H-harry.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes when you moved and felt the vibrator hit and new and exciting angle. You moaned quietly and had to suppress the embarrassing cries you wanted to let out.

“Yes?” Harry moved so he was standing at the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt one-by-one. He looked so hot with his sleeves rolled and the suspenders already dropped down to his sides.

“I-I please s-st- enough.” You whimpered, pulling on the restraints to try and stop it yourself but you’d already tried that one too many times and nothing has come of it.

Your wrists were slightly red and bruised from all the tugging you’d been doing and Harry noticed that as he peeled away his shirt from his body. He threw the silk shirt somewhere else in the room and walked over to the right side of the bed, sitting down to get a closer look at your wrists. He leant down to give it a gentle rub and a kiss. You sighed in delight at the feeling of his cool lips burn against your flaming skin. Harry sat up and tilted your face to the side so you could face him, slight tears in your eyes. He looked at you for a few moments, taking in the shear beauty of you and your glorious body, before making sure you were alright.

“What’s your colour, baby?” He asked you gently, stroking your cheek and then running his thumb along your bottom lip with a soft pull.

“G-green.” You nodded and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you on your desperate lips. You basked in the taste of him, closing your eyes like you needed to save this moment to memory forever. You loved him like this, when he was dominant with you. He let you be submissive like you wanted to be.

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned back from you and moved onto the bed more, straddling your bare body. The silk of his pants felt erotic against your hot skin and you moaned at the dreamy sensation. He ran his large, ringed, hands up and down your body, feeling every curve and crevice. He massaged your boobs lightly in his hands, up and down your stomach and to your inner thighs behind him. You hummed at the feeling, gasping when Harry finally turned off the vibrator and moved it away from you. You felt lighter from freedom all of a sudden.

“T-hank you.” You breathed out, opening your eyes to meet his electric green ones. Wow, he looked beautiful - still slightly sweaty and hot from his concert.

“Don’t thank me yet, angel.” He grinned as he took down his trousers and pants, pushing them to the floor with his foot.

He didn’t even wait for you to register what was going on before he slipped himself inside of you. You loved the feeling so greatly, but your clit was still so sensitive. You shuddered as he picked up his pace and thrusted into you harder and harder, faster and faster. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, made you arch your back and your toes curl and then feeling if him so deep inside of you was enough to make you cum already, again.

“Feel s-so good.” You looked at him and saw the desire within his eyes. He was so full of lust right now, because the sight of you tied up with him pounding into you is better than simply imagining it. Nothing could feel more euphoric than this, both of you were sure of that.

“Yeah? Feel me all around you? So perfect f’me. M’beautiful angel.” Harry moaned out, cupping one of his hands around your throat and pushing you deeper into the mattress, whilst his other hand went to cup your breasts and give them the devotion they deserved.

Everything felt everywhere.

His rocks became sloppier as he reached his high, yours approaching much sooner than you thought it would. You were surprised you actually had anything left in you. His cock hit a spot inside of you that made you scream out and he felt you collapse around him all at once, causing his own release to quickly follow. He continued to fuck you through your release and bent himself over to press his lips to yours. He felt and tasted amazing, you couldn’t get enough. It would never be enough.

“Love you so much.” You spoke the best you could and Harry released his hand from your throat, leaning down to kiss it softly. He reached over to your hands to untie them afterwards, giving them both a few kisses over your wrists when he saw the harsh marks. Your arms were so tired that they just fell to your sides, but Harry kept on touching you softly; stroking your messy hair away from your face and caressing your cheek softly as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw. He kept his face close to you as he whispered the words that would stay imprinted on your heart forever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

[whirlybirbs]

               (   another gif by @unearthlydust​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours. 

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

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“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks �� honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.  

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

                                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦  

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both  wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

[dadsbongos]

the lov beach episode hori's too scared to give us

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: League of Villains/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: uhh idk actually, dabi's kinda horny ig, i don't usually include this as a warning but swearing (there's quite a bit of it), feminine pronouns Summary: this is just 1860 words of me shutting my eyes, plugging my ears and ignoring the current state of the manga (: (beach episode type beat) ~~~

Pulling the large sun hat tighter on her head, (Y/n) looks over as her leader strolls up to the van Spinner had stolen earlier in the day. She quirks a brow at the man, putting a gentle hand over his handheld and pushing it down when he doesn’t notice her, “That’s what you’re wearing?”

Tomura huffs and steps back, narrowed eyes focusing on his black jeans and hoodie, “What’s it to you?”

“You’re wearing a hoodie in this heat, first of all, and also - it says ‘12 year old in gaming mode’, you’re asking to get bullied.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbles as he tries to find an insult for the woman before resigning himself to mumble out a, “you look like you raided a college chick’s closet” while returning to his game.

“I think she looks great!” Twice piped up from inside the large van before yelling once again, “Absolutely hideous!”

Dabi nodded slightly from his window seat, pulling the strings of his hood so as few inches of his face as possible were showing, “I agree with him.”

“Which part?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, shooting the man a glare.

“Yep.”

“Dickface,” she hissed, reaching up to swat at Dabi’s arm through the rolled down window before turning to climb into the van, “A dickface who is also wearing a black hoodie in this heat. You two are actual nutjobs.”

“Van’s got AC,” Dabi shrugged off her concerns, still not even looking her way as she settled into the seat between him and Twice, “Didn’t know you cared so much, doll. Pretty sweet of you.”

“If you pass out from a heat stroke, I’m not the one taking you to the hospital,” she leaned over into the midrow seats of the van to glare at Tomura as he sat down, “That goes for you, too.”

“I’m not the one with a fire Quirk.”

“Just get Himiko some blood and she’ll take ‘em in all disguised! Let them die!” Twice pitched in with his own ideas, earning a shoulder pat from the woman.

“Good ideas, big guy, I like them.”

“Rude ass,” Dabi kicks at (Y/n)’s leg.

“I’m your boss, if you let me die you’re fucked.”

“Nobody’s dying on this trip, what the fuck are you guys talking about?” Spinner already appeared exasperated with the group and he’d barely been in the car for a second.

Compress got into the passenger seat as Spinner buckled into the driver’s side, he looked around before noticing an absence, “Where’s Toga?”

Suddenly, the door to Tomura’s seat is lugged open with a force, an overly excited blond teenager jumping over her boss and into the open seat beside him.

“You could’ve just gotten in on the other side,” Tomura clenches a fist to keep himself from slapping Himiko’s arm and causing a deathly accident.

“I didn’t know which side you were sitting on, so I just guessed!” Himiko giggles as Spinner starts the car.

“Asshole,” Tomura shakes his head, “This trip is pointless.”

“Kurogiri wants us to bond and stop fighting all the time,” Compress cuts in, “That’s why I’m in charge.”

“We’re adults- " (Y/n) interrupts herself, “Dabi, roll up the window, we’re pulling out of the safe zone.”

Dabi merely keeps his eyes closed behind his sunglasses and presses his head back against the neck rest of his seat.

“Roll up the window.”

“God, these winds are fuckin’ noisy, huh?”

“I hear ya, man!” Twice shouts before shaking his head, “Dabi, be nice to (Y/n). She’s your elder.”

“By a fucking year! Man, fuck you, Dabi,” the woman reaches over and presses the button to roll up the window herself, “Motion sickness or not, you don’t get to be a douche.”

“It’s actually exactly what it means, doll. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Stop calling me doll.”

“Ugh,” he grins at his own upcoming remark, “the princess makes a harsh demand.”

“I’m this close,” she pats his chest to make sure he opens his eyes before holding her index finger and thumb nearly pinched together in front of his face, “to beating your ass.”

“Here,” he reaches up and takes her fingers and clenches them together, “now you have to. As soon as we get to the beach, you have to fight me or else you’re a coward and a liar.”

(Y/n) grits her teeth and snaps her eyes shut, “I’m gonna lose it,” she leans into Twice’s side and looks up at him, smiling at the slightest hint of a concerned look behind his mask, “How’ve you been, big guy?”

“Perfectly fine!” he shakes his head before whispering, “I didn’t piss before we left and now I regret it.”

“Aw, want Spinner to pull over?”

“I think he’ll crash the car if I ask.”

“He’d be killing himself too, so I don’t think he’d be too cool with that.”

Twice quiets down as he notices the woman’s eyes beginning to flutter shut with drowsiness. Then, a sense of guilt beats at him as he sees the serene expression crossing his friend’s face. So calm and sweet - he truly adored his friend, and he wanted to do right by her. So, leaning down, he murmurs, “Sorry for calling you old.”

(Y/n)’s eyes dart open and immediately find Twice, she raises a brow at the man and shakes her head as her eyes slowly begin closing again, “I… it’s fine, dude, don’t worry about it.”

Dabi, as usual, is quick to jump into a conversation that was never his, “Old lady tempers, gotta be careful around them.”

“I swear to fucking God, Dabi!”

“What? What do you swear?”

“Shut the hell up!” Spinner snapped at children in the back seat, “You’re distracting me, loud asses.”

“Dabi started it!”

“I’m ending it!”

“Stop yelling,” Tomura commanded the group, carefully stuffing his handheld into his large front hoodie pocket and resting his head back, “I’m going to sleep and if I get woken up, I’ll kill you all.”

None of them believed him - not at all - but out of an odd respect for their leader’s need for rest, they stayed relatively silent as he slept. Murmurs and whispers being the loudest volume of their voices as Tomura snoozed in the van.

Eventually, Spinner came to the reserved spot on the beach that Kurogiri definitely didn’t hire people to kill civilians over. Himiko leaned over and gently shook Tomura awake as Compress popped the trunk to the van. (Y/n) shifted toward Dabi to ensure he was also awake and starting to feel less queasy before getting out of the middle seat so he and Twice could exit.

“Alright, there’s changing rooms…” Compress trailed off, looking around before sighing, “Nowhere in sight.”

“I’m already fine,” (Y/n) waved off, grabbing towels and an umbrella from Spinner, “You guys can take turns changing in the van while I set shit up.”

“I call first!” Himiko cheered, excitedly bouncing back into the van as the men all walked off to provide the teenager the privacy and distance she needed.

(Y/n) did as she’d said and began laying down towels and propping up parasols in the sand to provide shade. As more and more of her friends collected themselves along the beach, she spotted her almighty leader once again making a fashion mistake.

Bright, neon green and orange striped swim trunks hung over his hips and he didn’t avoid the woman’s stare. She purses her lips, “Who the hell goes clothes shopping for you? They shouldn’t be making executive decisions like this.”

Tomura shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?! Shigaraki, you have to be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” he sits down on a towel under the parasol’s shade and returns to his gaming, “It’s probably Kurogiri but it isn’t like I ask him.”

“Holy shit. You’re an actual man-child.”

“Oh no, what gave me away?” he sarcastically whines, rolling his eyes at her.

“You being shameless about it is slightly worse…”

“(Y/n)!” Himiko cheerily calls, “Come join me in volleyball!”

“Is Twice playing?”

The blond looks over to the man in question and nods in approval.

“Are Quirks allowed?”

Another nod.

(Y/n) pats Compress’ shoulder, “I’ll let you take this game.”

Dabi comes up from behind while Spinner serves the ball on the beach, he’s removed his hoodie and now only rests in loose shorts that come to his knees and a white shirt. He scratches the back of his head in an uncharacteristically unnerved manner, “Not swimmin’?”

He earns a small shrug in response from the woman, “I’m not all too committed to the idea. At least not now.”

Nodding slowly, Dabi sits down at the edge of the towel unoccupied by Tomura and begins pulling at the fraying threads.

Sighing to herself, (Y/n) is slightly ashamed at how easily her heart softens upon noticing how uncomfortable Dabi seems. He doesn’t usually show as much skin as he is - which isn’t much - and he doesn’t usually throw himself into events where he’d be forced to interact with the others. He feels naked on the beach and he’d rather be dead than continue to suffer this embarrassment. And so, a body comes down onto the towel with his.

“Want company, misery?”

“Baking to death in the sun couldn’t get worse, even if it’s with you,” Dabi leaned back to rest against the woman’s legs.

“Wow,” (Y/n) fauxly gasped, sarcasm ripe in her words, “You being sweet? I never thought I’d never see the day.”

“Right? Thought I’d be dead by now,” his head tips back even more to lay it’s full weight on her legs, “You’re comfortable to rest on, old lady.”

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”

“You still owe him an ass-beating from the car ride,” Tomura jumped in, a snarky smile on his lips as he spoke.

“I’m starting to think you won’t actually beat my ass,” Dabi grins smugly, “Like me too much.”

“I would destroy you in a fight, Dabi.”

“Hm, well, until you stop being a pussy and actually fight me, doesn’t sound like that’s the truth.”

“I swear to- " (Y/n) loudly huffs and cuts herself off before groaning, Dabi- "

“I’m no God,” Dabi paused to wink like the cheap bastard he is, “Unless you want me to be.”

Before the woman can respond, there’s a “heads up!” shouted by Himiko and a volleyball is hurtling towards the arguing duo. Tomura immediately leans over, not quite paying attention and sticks a hand out to block the ball, accidentally decaying it in the process. The leader comes to a stand and tosses up his hands, “What the shit, Toga?”

“Man,” the teenager whined, stomping her foot in the sand, “you destroyed the ball.”

“You almost destroyed (Y/n)’s face!” Tomura's voice quiets and softens to avoid upsetting the young girl over a mistake, “There’s probably another ball in the trunk.”

“I said ‘heads up’,” Himiko rolled her eyes, sending Twice off to find the spare volleyball in question.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “Oh, so all better, then?”

“Exactly!”

“No! That’s not how that works, Toga!”

Dabi snickered at the back-and-forth before giving a mock dreamy sigh, “Ahh, the sound of Kurogiri’s bonding plan working perfectly.”

[alice-smutthoughts]

Fox

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ran / Rindou x Fem bodied OC

TW: strip club, sex work, violence, blood, weapons, SA, drugs, alcohol, swearing

All characters 21 +

Please DNI if under 18

*************************************************

“Get the fuck off’a me!”

Rindou peered into the alleyway with Ran’s head popping over his shoulder. From that angle they could only see the figure of a man wearing a large black hoodie slouching over someone.

“C’mon you were all over me in there. I know you want it.”

A loud slap rang out.

“That’s my job! If you want attention go inside and book an appointment.”

The man grabbed the lady’s hair and yanked hard.

“You fuckin’ bitch. Just bend over and open your legs like the whore you are!”

At that the pair started to walk towards the man before a gun fired and he dropped to his knees screaming. A woman in a fitted black suit stood over him with a gun pointed down. His hand had been blown open.

“Sir, as you know our company policy prohibits touching any of the ladies. Also this is a private area for employees to smoke. You are not allowed to be here.”

Her head tilted down at him but her face was obscured by a white fox mask.

“Y-you, you cunt! You shot my fucking hand!”

She shoved her gun into his mouth.

“Yes. That is what happens when you don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Her voice was calm and the Haitani brothers stared, interested.

“And on the note of manners.”

She pushed the gun farther down causing the man to gag around it.

“I’ve heard that washing someone’s mouth out with soap will teach them not to use bad words. But I’ve found that removing one’s tongue works just as well.”

The man shook at her implication, a patch of wetness formed on his pants and trickled to the ground below.

“Now, you are going to get on your hands and knees in front of Crystal and beg for her forgiveness. And then you’re going to leave an never come back to this club or near her again.”

He quickly crawled to Crystal’s feet and sobbed. He begged her not to let the woman kill him. After she was satisfied the masked woman indicated for him to leave.

“Ah, one more thing. I only believe in second chances. So I wouldn’t try your luck.”

She called out after him. As he ran past the brothers they finally saw his face and recognized him as a low level grunt from a local gang.

“Thanks A.”

Crystal gave the masked woman a hug and went back inside the club. A looked up and noticed the Haitani brothers still standing at the entrance of the alley. They had visited the club a few times and she knew they were high profile customers.

“My apologies for the noise. Please allow me to offer you both free private rooms on us.”

Ran grinned.

“No problem at all doll. We were gonna crack that punk’s skull but ya beat us to it. Seems like you have this place well protected.”

A thanked them and led them to the front entrance so they could enter the club.

“So little miss ‘A’, you gonna be the one dancing for us?”

Ran questioned with a smirk.

“No, no, we have much lovelier girls here. I’m just the doorman.”

Rindou scoffed.

“Seem more like a bouncer to me.”

At that she laughed.

“All part of the job. I suppose security might be a better description but with the clientele we serve here, the word might make people a bit weary.”

“Well since you’re not a dancer, the club rules don’t apply to you correct? So does that mean we can take you out after your shift?”

Ran questioned, knowing Rindou was wondering the same. They both were interested in the person behind the mask who seemed to be as ruthless as some of their colleagues.

“I am very busy today. But I do hope you enjoy your time with the girls.”

With that she gestured over to two tall women clad in nothing but heels and strappy lingerie. The two noticed she had skirted around the question but that only made them more interested. For now they would simply enjoy the night, after all they knew what happened when the woman was pushed.

*************************************************

The club shut down in the early morning hours. The girls were all changing into their regular clothes and chatting on their way out of the building. Alice was the last to leave, ensuring that all the girls made it to their rides and that none of the customers were waiting for them outside. She locked up and started home. Without her mask and work clothes on she blended in well with all the other people on the streets.

When she arrived at her apartment she quickly washed the night grime off of her. Her fox mask was placed in its spot on her wall amongst many others. She finally slid into her bed, still messy from when she left for work, and fell asleep.

Had this one rattling in my head for a bit and wanted to get it down before I forgot. Also just realized this is the second story I started in an alleyway, haha. Will be working on a part two. Also I plan to mention a lot of different cultural masks in this series, if you have any you find interesting or would like mentioned please leave a comment 🖤

[the-phantom-ender]

S. So. I reblogged this post earlier. And. And I wanted to see a fic for it.

But, uh... I'm very impatient. So I wrote it myself.

LISTEN. LISTEN. I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS TO BE WORKING ON. HOWEVER, CONSIDER: PHILZA MINECRAFT.

Watson Phillips. That was the name he was going by at this point. He had his wings, practically useless by now, binded and pinned to his back. You could hardly see the bump left by them under the layers of clothing. It was uncomfortable, sure, but not bad. The ruler of this land was a Piglin, he couldn’t help but be reminded of… an old friend.

He sighed, waiting quietly for the event to start. And it did! Oh it did. He didn’t get much of a view of things when the first two gladiators went up to bat, being much to caught up in aiming the bow in his hands, quiver strapped over his shoulder. All he knew was that one of them, Lagius was it, lost miserably. Not that he would judge much, really.

He only really came to be aware of what was happening when he was approached. And… then he saw a very, very familiar face. Watson almost froze where he stood, but covered his tracks with grace, saying he was more or less just focused on target practice. It was a lie, but not an unbelievable one. He rolled his shoulders, back aching.

The cameraman was Karl Jacobs.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind. For one, his clothing was absolutely not time appropriate. The brightly coloured spiral hoodie did not fly anymore, no sir. For two: Watson knew what reincarnation looked like. This was the same face. This was different.

He decided that when this was over, he would get a chance to talk to Karl.

Watson lost his fight. He kind of threw it, in fairness. The other guy was drunk off his ass and he felt a little guilty fighting him. Also the zero gravity ruining his shot did him in a little. He was deadly on target with a bow, but if a person could easily side step because of how slowly it moved, there was really no point.

After that, he was content just… standing around. He got a little drunk at one point, but he sobered up quick enough that it may well have never happened. It was nice getting to know the rest of the people around, they all seemed alright enough.

Then he spoke to the Ran fellow. An enderman, surely, through and through. Had the same genetic mutation as… someone he used to know. Made the eyes green. Not very common, but not terribly uncommon, either. They carried themselves like anyone could come at them at any time. And considering everything going on, he might have been right with the caution.

“So… Ran, was it? Enderman name.”

He perked up, ears flicking slightly,” Yes. It’s common. You’re... versed in the culture?” “Eh,” Watson shrugged,” I’ve been taught some things by some old friends. Know a little of the language. I’m a little rusty, though.”

The two of them stuck by each other through a lot of the rest of the tournament. Warbling occasionally in a language others didn’t understand. Though Ran did comment, at one point, that the way he spoke it was very outdated. All he did was shrug and say that the guy who taught him might have thought it was funny. That seemed to be enough of that.

At the end, Ran managed to yank both of them out of the lava, keeping both from a rather unsavory death by fire. They stood behind a pillar, listening to chaos erupt around them. Jackie had won. And he was directed to… kill the cameraman. Oh no, absolutely fucking not.

Watson nudged Ran,” Hey, mate, when the kid goes to deal the killing blow to the camera man, is there any way you can just… blip over there and make sure he doesn’t actually die?”

“... Yeah, I can manage that.”

Ran delivered on his word, too. Before Watson knew it, Karl was behind the pillar with them and no one was the wiser. He lurched up, bewildered, clearly expecting to be anywhere but there.

“...What the honk?”

There it was.

“Ran, mate, if you don’t mind. I’d like to have a private word with him.” A shrug,” Alright. I have some… business to attend to, anyways.” A slight salute, and then he was gone.

Karl had tried to slink away, but Watson firmly grabbed his arm and forced him to stay. He threw a cloak over the man’s shoulders and snuck them out with the crowd. To his credit, he didn’t complain. It was… almost uncomfortable how resigned he was to this, honestly. Eventually, Watson tugged Karl around a corner and out of sight.

“How are you here, Karl Jacobs?”

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid, mate.”

“H-how…” Karl blinked, moving to hold his head,” How do you know who I- have I met you? My memory, um, it isn’t… the greatest. So. If I’m forgetting you, I’m sorry-”

“I, gah, do I really have to spell this out for you?”

“... Yeees.”

“I swear to gods if this is just because I binded my fuckin’ wings…” Watson sighed.

It wasn’t like he could just… take off the binding. He’d pinned them down pretty damn well, it’d take a while to unwrap things. Still, he supposed those were the most defining features about him. Unless… did he still keep that thing in his bag? It was old and busted by now, but he’d replaced it more than once already and didn’t wanna do it again.

He opened his satchel, rustling around for a few moments. A small smile grew on his face as he saw the edge of the green and white rim. With a flourish, Watson pulled out the bucket hat and placed it on his head. It fit better when his hair was longer. Waving his hands, jazz hands, he whispered out a little ‘ta-da!’

“PHILZA MIN-”

“SHHHH!” Watson hissed, shoving a hand over Karl’s mouth,” Not so fuckin’ loud, mate.”

A beat.

“Yeah, though. You died. A very long time ago. How the fuck are you… here, Karl?”

“Uh…” Karl’s eyes darted around,” Would you… believe me if I said that I’m, uh, I’m on… business.”