#and like- I like to think he's specializing in directing- so he gets to hande the camera a lot

[ronearoundblindly]

For your event, this could be 4 or 8. Or both really. Dealer's choice! Johnny Storm, eternal playboy, falling for someone for real. Not buying it, she says no when he makes a move. How does he turn this around?

Warnings for verb tense being a thing I couldn't handle today--it bothers me, but I gave up, sorry--and I think that's it!

NO because it wasn't special

A party. He goes to a lot of them. He goes to them all the time. He's got his lines to use on women. He's very showy, but that has become exactly Johnny's MO. In a way, it's what women expect of him.

To you, however, it just looks like he's putting in zero effort.

You've noticed him: first since he's famous and there, second since a woman he already hit on laughed so freaking loud while shrieking "oh, Johnny, you're so bad," and third since he stared in your direction. He was obvious. The obviousness wasn't the weird part, though, because he's Johnny Storm and known for being on fire. What was weird is the staring being AT YOU.

His behavior earlier in the night, combined with your anxiety at being singled out, makes exactly what he said to you pretty fuzzy. You weren't rude, but you were dismissive. Other than saying your name, you basically shut him out. You could tell there were other eyes on you now like yours had been on him.

You're sure he'll find someone else. He won't even remember you. Johnny takes it in stride, and that basically proves your point.

2. NO because it wasn't just you

You're out at dinner. This is a fancier restaurant, and no one is with you at the two-seater booth. You just craved several things they offer. Since takeout isn't quite the same, you splurge and have that beautiful trifecta of appetizer, entrée, and dessert all to yourself.

Mid-main course, right after you thank the server for taking your dessert order, a smiling face pops around the corner.

"Hey," Johnny beams, "I know you. Small world, huh?"

A distinctive blond comes to stand behind him.

"Let the woman eat her dinner in peace."

"Right, sorry, Sue, this is my friend--" you were wrong that he wouldn't remember your name "--and..." He eyes the empty edge of table across from you.

"It's nice to meet you--"

"Are you alone?" Johnny blurts over his sister's kindness.

Suddenly, you're the one who could burst into flames from sheer embarrassment.

And then there's Reed Richards, openly scolding Johnny in a nice restaurant that you will never be setting foot in again.

"No, I just meant..." Johnny tries, far quieter than before. He even slides into the free side of the booth. "I meant you should eat with us instead."

It's not really a question, but you're beyond put off your food.

"I would rather crawl into a hole right now," you hiss, flustered as you catch the curious eyes of other patrons.

Sue and Reed dismiss themselves, thank the gods, removing themselves as an obstacle trapping more onlookers in the gap between tables.

You flag down your server, begging for you check and dessert to-go, as soon as humanly or inhumanly possible.

"Wait. Wait. You don't have to leave."

"I don't have to but I want to," you retort.

Johnny puts his hand on the bill which you rip out of his grasp. "At least let me get this. Please, I--it's my fault. You--"

But you've already slapped down your card and told the poor, confused server that you'll pick it up at the hostess stand along with your coat.

3. NO because you didn't feel safe

To say you were alarmed when Johnny Storm showed up at your job not long after the restaurant would be an understatement, but apparently, someone took photos of what they thought was a lovers' quarrel and mailed them to the Baxter building. The person's note threatened your life for 'treating' Johnny that way, and now he has come to make sure you're okay until the person is found.

He suggests the security of his home rather than yours. Doesn't seem to bother him that the secure building is also where the threat was sent, but on the elevator ride to the top of the Baxter, Johnny admits that if you're here then The Four can easily catch them.

You're bait.

Excellent.

Johnny makes the whole thing feel like a planned game night with friends, a sleepover of sorts, but the mood is heavy and swept through with the undercurrent of danger.

He confesses at the door to your temporary bedroom that he'd like to go on a real date with you. His biggest regret for the situation is that you two didn't have any of the 'benefits' of being together before someone tried to pull you apart.

He is genuine. He seems genuinely sad. He's authentically comforting, it's true, but you can't see this as a good life for you. If this is the life, Johnny's too hard to go out with.

The threat is caught in the small hours. You tossed and turned, never knew any of the capture was going down, and were told later in the morning, promptly returning to your regular world.

4. YES when he stops trying so hard

He waits a few weeks before coming to your home to check on you.

"I'll leave," he promises, "just tell me your okay. Sleeping alright? Going out normally? Whatever it is that made you happy before, you're doing it, right?"

He waits some more for your response, stuck at your threshold, a box in his arms.

Literally, nothing has been normal. You sleep horribly, you get distracted at work constantly, and you haven't accepted any invitations to even the tamest social events, let alone eaten out since.

"I swear, I'm not trying anything. It's not a date. I brought this to give you. Not expecting anything." Johnny's puppy dog expression makes you smile, the first one you can recall this week.

"I don't know... I'm really tired."

He stands up straight and cheery. "I got movies for that." He rummages in the box. "I've got flicks to keep you awake, flicks to put you to sleep, and popcorn to eat until...whenever."

He produces a stovetop popping pan.

"No," you sigh, and Johnny deflates instantly. "No. You said it's not a date, but I'm disagreeing with you."

You step out of the way and push the door wide open.

He soaks in the victory for a moment, then passes you, leaning to kiss your cheek quickly as you hear the popcorn start rattling to life in his hot palm.

Johnny--solo--is adorable and comfortable, normal enough to forget who he is. When he's relaxing, when he's focused on you, it feels completely different to the pickup lines and the parties. The most daredevil thing he does is hold cornels on his tongue until they pop, trying to catch them in his mouth as they jump away. The most playboy thing he does is critique bad dialogue in the movie.

It's during one of the 'stay awake' movies that you're knocked out cold on his toasty shoulder.

Without making any moves, he made just the right move for you.

[Main Masterlist; Sleepover Masterlist]

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63

[livwritesstuff]

Hiiii

I was wondering if the girls have any funny Grandpa Wayne stories, what kind of adventures they would have with him. I think he would love to show the girls photos of Ed when he was a young. Pretty standard grandpa stuff. But im really intregued if you have any that you have thought of?

Yeah Wayne is definitely a vault of funny stories and photos and memories of Eddie as a kid, which the girls and Steve love, and Eddie is honestly a pretty good sport about.

Wayne is Wayne though, even as Grandpa Wayne — he's a pretty straight-shooter usually, and he's got a super dry wit that the girls don't always pick up on when they're little, but get a huge kick out of when they're older.

The older he gets, the more he jokes about his own mortality. Every birthday after 72 is "Well, looks like we made it through another one". Every time he gets a little chilly, it's "One more bout of pneumonia and I'm a goner."

(The girls think this is hilarious. Eddie does not.)

I've talked before about how he's got a soft spot for Hazel, but I also think he sees through Robbie's brand of BS in half a second because she's pretty much a direct copy of Eddie, and Wayne was obviously well-versed in Eddie's brand of shenanigans.

Once, Wayne was playing cards with 10yo Robbie, who was cheating (because Eddie taught her -- he taught all three girls how to cheat at cards, but Moe refuses to win on literally anything other than her own merit and Hazel always ends up feeling bad about it and confessing, so Robbie's the only one who actually exercises the skill).

Wayne knew she was cheating, obviously, because she learned it from Eddie, who he'd watch grow up cheating at cards, so he said, "You know what happens to kids who cheat at cards?"

"What?" Robbie had asked slowly.

"Special police force keeps tabs on 'em. Then, once they won enough hands..."

"No way," Robbie shook her head dismissively.

(And then she incidentally lost the next three rounds)

[kdylight]

blue cashmere - kdy

content: kim doyoung x reader, fluff, marriage

this is my first fic! >.<

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you push open your front door with a groan, when suddenly a sweet aroma hits your senses. the soup you’ve been craving for the past couple of weeks. the smell is coming from the kitchen, followed by a few melodic hums in the same direction. you had just come home from a grueling day at the office, your ears still ringing from all the constant requests from your superiors. corporate life wasn’t what you had dreamed of, but its what kept you afloat.

you close the door carefully, making your way to the living area of your apartment. the sight you walk to makes your heart burst out of your chest. standing behind the stove, you can see your husband focused on cooking your favourite meal for dinner. the sudden thought hits you, this is why i work so hard... to come back home to this everyday.

doyoung is humming away happily, and despite only seeing his back profile, the curves of his cheeks visibly poke out as he smiles in thought. clearly he doesn’t know you’ve come home yet…

quietly, you tiptoe into the kitchen, approaching him from behind. he's wearing an apron wrapped over a soft blue cashmere sweater, which hugs his figure divinely. as you get closer, your hands wrap around his small waist gently, making him jump.

"ah! that scared me. i didn't hear you come home!" his head turns quickly, as his startled body eases into your touch. you sigh softly, resting your head against his broad back. your hands trail under his apron and up against his abdomen, stroking the soft fabric of his sweater, your gentle movements prompting him to say something.

"everything alright, love?" his head bends over to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

"yeah... just missed you a lot today..." the kiss from doyoung brings all the stress and physical pain to a halt. just a simple gesture of love makes your heart skip several beats. how did i get this lucky? your eyes scan the kitchen, taking in all the dishes he's probably been spending hours preparing for your return home. to think you didn't even have to tell him you've been craving his special soup... the plethora of intense thoughts in your mind cause you to impulsively squeeze your arms in your current embrace around doyoung. startled, doyoung slightly jumps again.

"hey, are you sure you're okay? you're not sick right?" doyoung asks you in a concerned tone, unbeknowst to the improper thoughts in your mind.

you shake your head, nuzzling into his soft sweater. he takes it as an okay, and resumes his cooking, stirring a few sliced vegetables into the pot, before covering it with a glass lid. whenever your colleagues or friends would discuss marriage, they'd often express their envy in your lifestyle —having a husband who treats you like his queen... and its nights like these where you can't help but feel proud. you lift your head up, and doyoung turns again to look at you, noticing your dazed eyes.

"huh? are you sure you're okay?" doyoung's voice full of concern, his free hand cups your cheek. you quickly peck his lips, surprising him.

"i'm fine!" you speak, a hint of red creeping up your cheeks. he narrows his eyes, not completely convinced. its a little bit hard to bring up the fact that your husband cooking your favourite soup for dinner after a long day of work is one of the most attractive things he could ever do. still a teenager at heart, you feel too awkward to express your overwhelming gratitude to him directly, and you know doyoung would probably shrivel in embarrassment if you were to tell him... he's the type to do kind gestures, but not exactly the best at receiving thank you's. so tonight, you plan to show him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be continued…?

a/n : my first time writing :0 hope u enjoyed… let me know if any of u want a part 2….

[safination]

Shadows

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. [TLDR: Charlie calls you back to the hotel. Something seems wrong with Alastor.] A/N: Woowwiee? What's this? A post? After how many months? This is a re-write of Crimson Nightmare. I always did want to make it into a proper fic and why not do it now to slowly get back into writing? So yeah, I'll be accepting requests again. No promises that I'll be able to finish it. Give me your ideas and I'll do my best with the 2 hours that's allotted for my free time. This will be my practice. How much can I write within an hour or two. They probably won't be too long unless the words take me. And unlike a CERTAIN SOMEONE, when I say short, I actually mean it. You know who you are. Work bitch!

The doorknob to the Hazbin Hotel buzzes your skin. The slightest touch sends a current that runs up your arm, warning you of the danger inside. This door shouldn’t be opened.

In the end, Charlie swings the door open, the action so fast that the hinges strain. She’s in her pajamas, and her hair spikes in different directions. “Sorry for calling you out of work,” Charlie says, twiddling her thumbs as she rambles a little. “I know you work nights, but I didn’t think the hotel would last any longer.”

“It sounded like an emergency,” you tell her, ignoring the buzzing claw that bites your skin. “I’m not sure how I can help, but I can try.”

Charlies grabs your arm, yanking you inside before the door locks. The hallways are darker, with a distinct green lining the walls. The further Charlie pulls you, the dimmer it gets. It hit you all at once – the air buzzes with . . . with Alastor. The prickles going up your skin are familiar ones. There’s a charge in the air that caresses you.

It’s almost comforting, in a way.

Charlie holds your hand, trying to give you a smile – she doesn’t try hard enough. “It’s Alastor,” she says. “Or at least we think it is, we don’t know what’s wrong and he won’t respond to us! Every time we get closer it just keeps getting worse. So, I thought maybe you kno—”

“I think I understand,” you say, pulling here away from the inky pools of shadows that crawl down the stairs. “This hasn’t happened in quite a while. How troublesome, indeed.”

“We removed everyone near your floor,” Charlie says, squeezing your hand. “I’m a bit worried. Vaggie is keeping watch. Maybe we could throw a phone and we could talk to him?”

You slide a foot into the shadows, watching as it pulls on you. “Just give me time,” you say. “Oh! And maybe some hot milk?”

There’s a look on Charlie’s face, and you know she’s going to try and stop you. You walk towards the stairs, leaving her with a dismissive wave. From the corners of your eye, you see Charlie enter the kitchen.

The deeper you walk, the harsher the pricks of static become. Still . . . the darkness seems to part for you, letting you into its shadows.

“My deer.” You knock on the door to your room. “Could you open the door for me?”

Nothing.

The door’s unlocked. So, with a deep inhale, you step inside.

The fireplace lights the room with its green blaze; its light being sucked into the darkness of the bayou. Alastor is somewhere in there.

You stay by the light, letting it keep you safe. You’re not vain enough to think you were special. Alastor is lost in the deepness of his head. There’s nothing pulling him out when all instincts scream at him. The only kindness you can offer is company.

So, you go straight to the record player, letting a familiar tune fill the room.

Black tentacles slither out from the dark bayou. It slides across the air until they’re wrapping around your waist. One tentacle slides up your leg, wrapping around it like a snake on a tree. You allow yourself to be pulled deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper.

From the darkness, glowing radio dials peer at you. They stare straight at you, wide and unchanging.

“Alastor,” you say with a small smile. “Hello, my deer.”

The tentacles drop you into his palms. He’s so much bigger in this form. The antlers on his head sprout like overgrown tree branches, and his neck is snapped in three places. That smile of his never wavers, even as the shadows pull on his mind.

Radio static scratches at the air. Still, you reach out for him, wrapping your arms around him, pressing yourself into his cheek. You press a small kiss on his nose, nuzzling closer. Blood trails out of his mouth, staining your work clothes. You only hold him tighter.

So, this is how the night goes.

Alastor, lost in his own mind.

You, waiting until he returns.

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter sixteen

Synopsis: You realize a bit more about how you feel towards Rex that extends past just being teammates. Just in time for a specialized mission you’re the only one interested in going on.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 16/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: I loved reading your guy's shocked comments last time, you're all so funny. This chapter and the next were both going to be one chapter but this one is already so long it would probably end up being 10k+ words 😭 Then the chapter after the next one will be a Rex POV. Reblogs, comments, likes, taglist requests are all very appreciated!!

You don’t like him. Not like that, that’s ridiculous. You could hardly stand him a few days ago! It wasn’t even just dislike, you hated him. And he hated you. He spent months trying to get rid of you. This is ridiculous, more than ridiculous it’s… well, it’s just plain idiotic. You barely like him enough to visit his room! And that’s just because you feel bad. Sure, he seems to be making an effort of sorts to be better, but that does not erase months of heartache and borderline misery. Heartache isn’t the right word, that implies that he has some kind of effect on your heart, which he does not.

But he was at least semi-good company after long shifts at the hospital. Who else did you have? Rae didn’t want to entertain you constantly, and she was still asleep most of the day because of her healing process. So, who else did you have other than the asshole? You just liked to see his steady improvement; it was akin to a social experiment. Nothing more. And as far as social experiments went at least he was somewhat good company. You liked the banter as much as you hated to admit it. And you liked how much he seemed to concede to what you were saying. A stark contrast to the Rex who had fought you on everything. If you asked to see his new hand, he would let you see it without hesitation. If you told him to stop talking while you were trying to focus on a message that just popped up from Cecil, he would instantly shut up. It was like he had been trained almost overnight. Sure, he could be funny, and surprisingly insightful but that doesn’t mean anything either.

At this very moment, he’s telling you how annoyed he is at his hair. Which as of now was starting to grow out from the close-cut buzz he had received during surgery. It was a little scruffy, not nearly long enough to be weighed down, so it just stuck out in different directions. He looked dumb in an endearing sort of way. For the first part of your visit, he just sat with one hand on his head as if it would hide it from you. Chunks stuck up through his fingers, and he somehow made it look perfectly natural for someone to sit like that. Until he needed to talk about something with more animation, and then his annoyance at how it looked was forgotten. You didn’t think it looked that bad, it was very different from his usual look, but not bad. It looked soft-  

Ah, shit.

You were starting to like Rex.

It was hard enough to look him in the eye after your dream the other night. It was embarrassing honestly. You might have self-indulged a little, asking Rex to inspect his hand for fully no reason other than because you wanted to. He didn’t even ask why, just offered it and kept talking.

“Cecil’s talking about getting me to be field ready after today-”

You hummed quietly, only half listening after your sudden realization. God, Rae was going to have a field day with this.

“I hope my suit is all fixed up, you know? If not I guess I could call Eve or something cause the amount of damage it had I doubt I could patch it up-” His left hand was still nudged towards you, palm up, even though you were no longer examining it.

“Wait, you said Cecil wants you back on the field?” You dropped your thought process for a moment, finally focusing fully on him.

“Uh, yeah.” He said with a small nod. “I’m getting discharged today, they said I’m basically good to go-”

“I don’t think ‘basically’ isn’t very assuring.” You frowned.

He tilted his head a little at you, a sly smile ghosting over his lips. “You worried about me, nurse?”

Normally you would roll your eyes, quickly followed by an exasperated groan. But now, you could swear the temperature of the room went up a few degrees. “No, I’m worried that if you get put on a mission, you’ll fuck it up. You should be fully healed before going out again.” Harsh, maybe harsher than it needed to be. But you didn’t want him reading into the way you had just looked at him.

“First of all, fucking ouch. Second of all, if you’re so worked up about it, why not just check me yourself?” He holds his right hand out to where you sit on the recliner.

You glance down at his hand before snapping your gaze back up to him. “Well, if the doctors say you’re good to go-”

He barks out a laugh. “What is going on right now?”

“They are professionals, they know what they’re doing.” Your eyes jerk down to his hand for a second again, which he is still holding out to you.

“You just said-” Rex raises a brow, but before he can finish you interrupt.

“Oh, piss off, fine.” You grab his hand a little rougher than you meant to. You can feel him tense from the gesture which sends a feeling down your spine. Good or bad, you couldn’t quite tell, but you felt it. You close your eyes, focusing on whether there are any remaining injuries, and surprisingly enough, besides a few left-over bruises he seems fairly fine. You let go after healing the measly remainder, “See? You’re all set.”

“See?” Rex repeats, confusion lacing his tone. “See what? I wasn’t the one raising doubts,” He looks to the other side of the room as if looking for an imaginary camera. “What-?”

“Gotta stop living in the past Rex, keep moving forward.” You stand up swiftly, preparing to leave. Should you feel bad for borderline gaslighting the poor guy? Maybe. But you were feeling your own confusion as it was.

“Wait.” Rex’s voice calls out as you go to grab your coat. “Are you still coming around the HQ?”

“Yep, still work there.” You folded your coat over your arm.

“So, I’ll see you around?” He’s wincing slightly as if he’s being too vulnerable, and he has to express it externally.

“Yes.” You affirm, your expression softening. “I know where you live, don’t worry.” You give him a small smile.

“I know where you live too.” He says back.

“Great, and I know where I live, and you know where you live, so we’ve got that covered.” Not sure how to fully end this exchange, you take a few steps back to exit the room.

Rex opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly snaps it shut, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed tightly. His jaw ticks as he looks off to the side, and you decide you need to get out of there now before you make a fool of yourself.

“See you later, Rex!” You call out as you step out of the room.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re entering Rae’s room; some trashy reality TV show is playing on the screen. Rae herself is working on some breakfast, obviously not enjoying it much. “Hello?” She raises a brow at you as you close the door with an unintentional slam.

“Hi.” You respond as you sink into the chair.

“Did someone die?” She eats a spoonful of her food, shuddering as she swallows.

“Worse.” You respond dramatically, your hands covering your face.

“They’re making you move into The Guardian’s HQ?”

“Ohhh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You peeked through your index and middle finger to look at her.

“Eh, not really. Then I can’t escape to your apartment for drink  nights. So, if it’s not that then what is it?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

“Come on, are you being paid by the word?”

“Rex.” You close your fingers, feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course.” Giggles sound off from Rae’s direction as soon as you say it, not needing to ask another clarifying question. “I knew this was coming.”

“How?” You tried not to sound extremely pathetic, but it still came out in a half whine. “I couldn’t stand him!”

“You brought him a bottle after you kicked his ass, constantly looked at him when he was around, talked about him when I was over-” She starts counting out on her fingers.

“You’re the one who brought him up when you came over!” You exclaim.

“Because I knew you wanted to talk about him!”

“He has been the major cause of any drama or problem in my life, of course I’d want to talk about that. That doesn’t mean I liked him!” You held your hands out in an animated fashion as you spoke.

“Oh no, you definitely didn’t like him. But you thought about him all the time, didn’t you?”

“Ugh, you’re not making me feel better.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about it being one-sided.” She finally ditched the food, pushing it away with a sour face.

“What?” You slouch more in the chair, swiveling to face her.

“Every bit of energy you’ve taken up talking, or complaining-or whatever, about him, he’s done like tenfold over you. He’s obsessed.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, somehow sinking further down. “I wish I had your level of delusion, Rae.”

“Call me delusional all you want, give it a few days, weeks.” She pauses and looks at you. “Or months, given the sluggish pace you two have been moving. I might be dead by then with the likes of this job.”

“Oh boy.”

Rae takes the pause to turn more towards you, letting out a groan at the exertion which has you shooting up even though she has no intentions of letting you help. “So, what made you finally realize?”

“Are you sure I can’t help in some way?” You rub your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Stop changing the subject, help me by giving the details.”

You sigh for what must have been the millionth time since entering the room. “I had…a dream.”

“Ooh, the scandal!”

“Shut up.” Pause. “Yeah, I mean kind of.”

“Call me the moment he shows up at your apartment looking like a lost puppy, Bulletproof is going to owe me so much money.”

“I really hope you’re joking.”

--

“No offense, but since when did we take orders from you, Donald? Where is Cecil?”

“This isn’t orders, it’s a prospect job.” Donald responded with a cool air.

He was always good at taking the shit everyone gave him. It made you feel for him more than most.

A few days have passed since you last saw Rex at the hospital. Somehow the two of you just couldn’t seem to coincide at the headquarters. It was frustrating, and even more frustrating than the lack of his presence in your life, was the fact that it frustrated you in the first place. You had walked by instinct to his room at the hospital multiple times the day after he left just to be greeted by sterile air and the smell of various detergents used to clean the area. The disappointment that filled you with the sight of it was not lost on you.

Right now, you finally saw him. The Guardians were assembled for some ‘special’ mission. Donald had gathered you all on Cecil’s behalf, it had all been very vague. Every member was present minus Rae, who was still recovering, and now going through physical therapy. And Kate, who was well…dead.

The memory of the fallen member had its effect on you just like every other mistake you had made. In order to be productive, both as an individual and as a hero, you had to push it away every time it entered your mind. You could wallow or you could act. You choose to act.

“A job? I thought we already had jobs. You know, being that we are Guardians and all.” Rex’s voice sounded out from the other side of the group, causing you to shift your attention. He was wearing his suit, and from the state of it he had recently been in a fight. His headpiece was pushed back but his goggles were perched on top of his head, his short hair poking up around it. You clenched your jaw tightly, he should be on vacation, having a break, or I don’t know, in therapy? He almost died. There’s no way that he came back from that completely fine. In that case, maybe you should be in therapy too, the number of times you’ve kind of almost died. But that’s only kind of so you’re obviously exempt. Rex shifted slightly, his line of sight landing on you, which sent you looking back at Donald again with no idea how long you’d been staring.

“This is technically out of Guardian jurisdiction, but an important donor has asked us specifically for undercover security detail.”

“Wait, we’ve been asked to be someone’s glorified security guards? Isn’t that a bit below our pay grade?” Bulletproof sounds off from right next to you.

“There are plenty of other heroes around, do you need a portfolio that you could send to him? I still have one from when I was running tryouts for the new team.” Rudy input a bit further down the line.

You glanced over before adding your own contribution, “Donor? Aren’t we government-run? How do we have donors?”

“They have asked specifically for members from The Guardians. You can technically refuse, but it wouldn’t be without repercussions.” Donald focuses on you. “There are a select few donors that contribute to the GDA and other operations, which entails all of you. Makes for more funds for renovations after damages that occur after Guardian missions.”

It makes sense, kind of. Cecil made a comment to you once about how much it costs to use his teleportation device, and with how much upkeep the Guardians themselves take just from missions, you can’t imagine it is in any way cheap. But donors?

“It would be a small detail, two or three. The person of interest has received a few concerning terroristic threats and wants to be sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Everything, as in?” Amanda questions.

“It’s a fundraiser, a gala-”

“A dance? This is ridiculous.” Immortal interjects, scoffing at Donald. “We are the Guardians of the Globe, not some dollar store rent-a-cop business.”

A few voices intertwine, speaking out all at once, mostly sounding disgruntled, displeased. On one level you understood their reservations. This was not the kind of thing any of you dealt with. Stakeouts? Sure. Life-threatening last-minute situations? Of course. A money-raising ball with the off chance of terrorism? Not as much.

Rex’s voice was surprisingly not one of those you heard. You tried to subtly look over at him, just to see that he was already looking right at you. Seemingly gauging your reaction. After looking away so suddenly earlier you would be pushing your luck doing it again right now. There was nothing else you’d rather do than break this scathing contact, but you just looked at him. And he looked back, his pale green gaze washing over you. Internally, you were trying to decide how long an acceptable amount of time would be to look at him, giving him a small smile. You didn’t have to wonder for long, because he broke the eye contact first. His attention turned to Immortal who was saying something about none of them partaking in this “obsolete distraction”.

“I’ll do it.” Before you fully thought it through the affirmation passed your lips. You weren’t really sure what the big deal was. So, what, it’s not some city-leveling threat. It almost sounded like fun, even exciting. You would be able to dress up, play a part, improvise. It would be a nice change of scenery.

Immortal sighed heavily. “You can have her. But we can’t spare anyone of importance.”

Give me a fucking break. You closed your eyes, letting out a controlled breath before turning to Bulletproof. “Come with me.” You whispered.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t want to have to dress up for some dance. No way.” He whispered back, not turning his head.

“Please! It would be at least a few days away from this place. It could be like a vacation.” You hiss, determined to get someone to go with you. Bulletproof was nice enough, and you knew he would be professional, which you couldn’t say for other members.

And you wouldn’t dare ask Rex.

“Ugh.” Bulletproof grumbled quietly. “I’ll go too.” He said loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Donald nodded, giving you what you swore must have been a look of appreciation, but with the glasses, you just couldn’t tell.

The Immortal grunted in displeasure but didn’t comment, folding his arms.

“I’ll also go.”

The whole group turns their attention to the voice that spoke from the other side of the room.

“What? I’d never say no to a party, you guys should know that by now.” Rex expressed with a composed tone.

“We can’t spare both you and Bulletproof.” Immortal said gruffly, turning to Donald. “Won’t just one person do?”

He couldn’t even use your name. Your expression betrayed how much this was getting under your skin, but you couldn’t seem to return to indifference.

“Technically, only two members are needed-” Donald starts,

“If something happens Bulletproof can just fucking fly back-or something, right?” Rex cuts in, drawing attention back to him.

“Technically-” Bulletproof begins, holding a hand up to his chin.

“Great. Then it sounds like we’re set.” Rex finishes and you catch his eye for a moment, mouthing a small ‘thank you’, to which he briskly nods, looking back at the Immortal.

“Very well.” Immortal bites out, leaving the conversation entirely, followed closely by Black Sampson.

“Shall I too go on this adventure?” Shapesmith asks, which is immediately shut down but a hand on the shoulder from Bulletproof and a shake of the head.

“You will each receive a detailed briefing later today by handout.” Donald explains to the three of you that agreed to attend. “The Gala is located on the donor’s personal land in northern Montana. The morning after will consist of a special guest brunch which you all will be attending as well. There will be rooming for you there as they want you on scene all night long just in case. And it would also be easier on resources to keep you all there.”

“Who is this person?” You inquire, Donald has not said anything specific this whole conversation other than where this dance would take place, and that the mystery person was a donor for the GDA.

“That will be in the handout you receive.” He stated concisely.

“Why all the secrecy?” Rex furrows his brow, folding his arms.

“Discretion is involved regarding every donor.” Donald responds, straightening his tie. “The gala is tomorrow night, you will all be flown in tomorrow afternoon, outfits and identities will be assigned to you.”

Bulletproof looked exceptionally put out, Rex looked like he was trying to solve long division in his head, and you? Well, you were borderline ecstatic.

--

You would never get used to using a private jet. After so long flying commercially, all the space felt like heaven. Your back didn’t start aching after the first hour, you could stand up and stretch your legs, even more you could write an essay about the bathroom. The other times you had traveled in the Guardian-affiliated-jet it had been the whole team. Now it was just you, Bulletproof, and, worst of all, Rex.

The carpet was a crisp maroon, the rest of the interior was a sterile white. Which you thought sharply contrasted with the Guardians of the Globe headquarters, that consisted mostly of aluminum tones. The walls of the plane’s interior were accented with mahogany plating, something you couldn’t decide if you thought was tacky or classy. The opinion changed every mission.

Any excitement at the prospect of being in semi-close quarters with Rex again was quickly drowned out by Rex and Bulletproof incessantly bickering.

“I’m just saying I still think you could have come up with a more inspired name.”

“I’m about to be inspired to knock your teeth out.” Bulletproof spit back.

You didn’t get between them, eventually they would both wear themselves out.

The clouds outside your window hung far below. Clustered together, forming wool-like patterns. For a moment you imagined what it would be like to surf on it. Then you looked back at the handout Donald had provided you each with. The three of you were meant to be covert, blend in. You were each free to use your own names, as apparently most of these people were not horribly well-informed. However, you each had been assigned backstories. You were a philanthropist by blood, having inherited a section of the oil industry. Rex was a wildlife activist who had traveled all over the world. Zandale was meant to be a journalist who was writing about the event for Time Magazine. Hopefully, there wasn’t someone there actually from Time Magazine, but you guessed that Donald already checked the guest list for that.

When you first read through it you had mentioned to the other two that you thought it was odd that Rex was the person who had been all over, rather than Zandale, who could fly.

“I have been all over.” Rex had said defensively.

“What? When?” You had scoffed.

“Just…well, a while ago, I don’t fucking know.” The tension in the room had skyrocketed for reasons you weren’t sure of, so you didn’t ask further.

The donor was someone named Dr. Mune. Apparently, the doctor was a genius. Having created many of the lifesaving measures the GDA is still using today. One of those included the brand-new hand Rex was situated with. You wish you could have seen Rex’s reaction to that information. Would it make him work harder on the mission? Or did he feel indifferent to it? It made you feel more connected to the job; the new hand was nothing short of a work of art. Memories of how it felt against your touch flood your vision, sending electricity down your spine.

“Joy?” You turned as Rex said your nickname, feeling annoyance at the sound of it after it had been used so long as an insult. Or at least that was how you had formerly perceived it.

You hummed in response, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, what do you think?” Rex said, tilting his head.

“I think you’re both extremely annoying.”

“God, I already know that. Focus! Whose name is better?”

They both looked at you expectantly. It was weird to see Bulletproof, or rather Zandale, without his goggles on.

“Do I have to take a vote?” You sighed heavily, turning back to the window.

“Yes.�� They responded in unison.

“I like Invincible’s name most probably.”

“That was not one of the options but thank you for reminding us of your crush.” Rex retorted, a hint of bitterness lacing his words.

You scoffed, turning back towards them, ready to correct him, only to hear Zandale let out a laugh. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. He was pursing his lips and purposefully not looking at either of you. Shit. Rae hadn’t been joking. Great.

“What?” Rex looked at him too, his brow drawing together tensely.

He bit the corner of his upper lip, looking up at you first then at Rex, then back and forth a few times. GREAT.

“How do you know I don’t have the hots for Bulletproof here, hm?” You panicked, you had to say anything to get him to get off Zandale’s obvious trail.

This caused them both to turn their attention to you. “What?” They said in unison again, which made you laugh.

“God, you two are like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, I’m surprised you don’t get along better.”

Rex shook his head while holding his hands up as if putting away all of this information to deal with later. “Okay, can you just answer the original question?”

You hum again, you could be honest, or you could really mess with Rex. Unfortunately for Rex… “Honestly, probably Bulletproof.”

“Suck it!” Zandale shoots up out of his seat, doing some kind of air-pump gesture.

“You- you’re lying! She’s fucking lying don’t listen to her!” Rex holds his hands out in distraught, watching as Bulletproof had his own little celebration.

For a brief moment, you made eye contact with him, smiling the cheesiest grin. His annoyed expression softened as he sucked on his teeth. For that small moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. Your smile shrunk into something more genuine, gentler. And for some reason, you waved. It was small, you hardly lifted your hand. His gaze dropped to it, and a small smile ghosted over his lips before he returned the action. His free hand gripping the armrest tightly.

--

Bulletproof had nodded off, his head rested against the edge of the window next to his seat. You were thankful more than anything he didn’t snore. He had already changed into his tuxedo for the night, it bunched up at his chest while he slouched against it. Someone, somewhere in high society would have cried at the sight.

You and Rex hadn’t changed yet. Rex exclaimed that he wanted to remain a free man as long as possible, and you thought it would be more exciting to dress up closer to landing time. Your stomach was already starting to twist unpleasantly each time the pilot announced the amount of time until arrival. It was similar to your first mission, fresh, and unfamiliar. A good portion of your stomach aches revolved around glances to the other side of the plane at your teammate. After the conversation had died down, he hadn’t looked in your direction once. You would have felt hurt by it, wondered if he was starting to hate you again. But it felt too charged, too intentional. The old Rex wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot a glare in your direction. This was nothing like that.

You would glance over at him from time to time, his gaze was on his lap, and had been for almost an hour, his hands clasped together, left thumb tapping the tip of his right one. You were positive he could see you somewhat, because every time you looked over his jaw clenched.

We will be making our descent in forty-five minutes.

“I’m gonna get dressed.” You whisper so as to not wake up Zandale while rising out of your seat. Rex practically jumps out of his seat at the broken silence.

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

What was that? “Are you okay?” You grab the garment bag containing your dress, and the shoe box next to it from the overhead rack.

Rex nods, letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, obviously, I just forgot you were here.”

“You forgot I was here?” You raised a brow, holding the garment bag over your shoulder as you turned to look at him.

“What? I’ve got a lot on my mind. Whole…mission and everything.”

“Okay, weirdo.” You laugh, moving towards the nose of the plane where the restroom is located.

Once inside, you pulled the dress out. It was a silky material- well, it probably was silk now that you thought about it. You would have to thank Donald for whatever strings he had pulled to make it your favorite color. The dress was sleeveless, with a mock neckline. It was fairly simple, the end of the dress reached down to your ankles. The shoes had a few inches of heel to them, which made you hope there would not be any hitches in the night, as you’d have to ditch them the moment you needed to sprint anywhere.

After getting it all situated and neatly folding your streetwear you started to pull the zipper up on the back of your dress, only for it to get to a point on your back you couldn’t reach.

A few beats of silence passed before you tried reaching your hand over your shoulder to get it, with no success.

You were not going to be able to do it on your own. How had women for decades zipped their dresses alone? Should you take it off, zip it, and try to pull it over your head? If it ripped in any way you were royally screwed. With a defeated sigh, you grabbed your stuff, put your hand out towards the door, and slowly pushed it up.

Rex was standing in the aisle, pushing his show box back into the overhead space. He had gotten dressed at the same time as you. Got dressed is a loose way of putting it. If someone could spin their way into clothing, you imagine they would look like Rex did now.

“You’re going to wrinkle it.” You put your things down in the first seat you walked by, straightening out the front of your dress absentmindedly as you made your way to him.

“I don’t think the shoes are going to wrinkle-” Rex started with a scoff before he closed his mouth from the scathing look you gave him and…something else.

“The suit, jackass.” You try not to smile, as you finally reach him. “This is supposed to be buttoned- you missed one of your shirt buttons.” You point out, the end of his dress shirt lopsided at the bottom. “Your shirt is also meant to be tucked in. Didn’t you see how Zandale looked?” You hold your hands out offering to help but he brushes you off, undoing his shirt himself with a groan.

“Since when were you two on a first-name basis?” He mumbled, working his way down them.

“Since I started treating him like a human being, so always.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms as you wait for him to catch up.

Did you forget he was, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, completely and totally built? No. You had seen his torso before, you had spent the better part of a half-hour with your hand pressed to it, healing him after a wound you had inflicted. But this wasn’t like that time. Then, you had been focused on the shame you had felt for causing the injury in the first place. Now, you were a bystander. Waiting to tell him how to properly wear his suit.

At first, you watched him, the way his hands flexed with each button. How the white linen of his shirt accented his chest underneath, which was becoming more and more visible. The way his chest rose and fell subtly with each inaudible huff. You eventually had to look away, determined to look at anything that wasn’t the warm tone of his skin.

His hands caught slightly on the last button, and he muttered something about ‘not having to put up with this shit’ as if he wasn’t the one to put it on wrong in the first place. “So, I just-?” He started from the bottom, lining each hole up to its corresponding button. He paused after a few, glancing up at you as if checking he was doing it right.

“Yep.” Your voice cracked in the worst way, forcing you to clear your throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Have you never worn a button-up?” Anything to get your mind off the fact you were blushing right now based on how warm you were feeling.

“You don’t really get the opportunity much in this business. Only time it’s ever come up was for funerals. The only one I’ve ever considered going to was for the old GDA director. But I didn’t end up going so…” He pauses for a moment, his thumb rubbing a few times over the material. “This good?” He asks, holding his hands up so you can see.

“Yeah, that’s good.” You respond softly. “Now you’ve got to tuck it in.” A breath passes as he does as you say. “What was he like?” You aren’t sure if you should ask, but you do any ways.

He stops what he’s doing and looks up at you. Making direct eye contact for the first time since your wave earlier. “The director?” A small look of confusion spreads over his features, clearly not thinking you would ask further.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard anything about him.” You tighten your arms closer over your torso, nibbling on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, well-” He continues tucking his shirt in, “He was, well he was an asshole is what he was. If you think Cecil is uncaring, you should have seen Director Radcliffe.”

Even from the way Rex called him by his title rather than his first name like Cecil, you could feel the difference in relationship. “Were you around him a lot?”

“Yeah.” Rex said softly. “Okay, so I button this up then or do I leave it open?” He gestured to his suit vest.

You file away that conversation for later, not wanting to push him further than he was comfortable with. “Yes, you button that.”

“Do I tuck it in?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

“Wait, where’s your tie?”

Rex looks around for a moment, his hands suspended out partially as he looks around. “It was…ah, here.” He holds it up triumphantly after grabbing it from where it lay crumpled a few seats down. It was the exact same shade as your dress, in the same silky texture. You wanted to sigh. You were going to look like prom dates.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how to tie it?”

Rex looks down at it for a split second before looking back at you. “Do I really need it?”

“Yes. You will stand out immediately. This whole thing is supposed to be undercover, remember?” You hold your hand out for him to hand it to you.

“You know how to tie it?” He looks at you with suspicion, as if you’re trying to pull a fast one.

“Yes, now will you let me help you?” He looks down at it for a moment, then begrudgingly gives it. “I learned in the hospital, I had this one patient who never let me heal him, but he always wanted to wear a tie.” You start as you signal for him to bend down, he does so without convincing and you hook it around his neck, angling it so it would rest under his upturned collar. “He never wore a suit or anything, but he insisted on wearing one over his gown. The first day I was there, I had no clue. He got really mad, huffed, puffed, the whole act. Told me he never wanted to see me again unless I learned how to tie a tie.” You looped it, “When I got back to my apartment, I was so frustrated. I swore I was going to quit at the hospital, quit with Cecil, everything. I was scared to join the Guardians, and I didn’t think I was ready-”

“You were scared to join the Guardians?” Rex interrupted; a quick glance up revealed that he was staring at you intently. You returned your eyes to your work, ignoring the rekindled heat that spread across your face.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyways, I was so mad. I picked up my phone to call Cecil, I was done. And then I got distracted. I opened a tutorial on how to tie a tie, then another. And soon enough I had watched way more than I needed, and I was sure if I tried again I could do it.”

“And did you?”

“No.” You laughed, “I screwed it up immediately, and he threw his Jello at me.”

“Jesus, really?”

You nodded. “And then I went back the next day and tried again, and the same the day after that. Until one day I did it right. He never thanked me or acknowledged the times before, but slowly he started telling me about his life. His wife who passed away a few years ago, his children that didn’t know where he was. Everything. I used to look forward to seeing him.” You finished tying it, but you didn’t let go quite yet.

“Do you still see him?” Rex’s voice came out soft, you could feel his words against your face.

“He died.” It was short, simple, but not sweet. Bitter reality. “He had stage four leukemia, even if he had let me heal him it wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t fix stuff like that.” You folded down his collar, your fingers lingering over it. You could feel his body heat just below the fabric.

“Did you go to his funeral?” You looked up at that. His gaze wasn’t on you but shifted to the side. You weren’t sure what response he was looking for, or why he asked, but you answered.

“No.” It was a quiet response, uttered so soft he could hardly hear, even from his close proximity. He met your gaze, searching it quietly. And you let him, staring right back.

Five minutes to arrival.

The pilot’s voice jarred you both, causing you to let go of his tie, and remove your fingers from his collar. The sudden interruption sent Rex back into a fully upright position, rather than the slouch he had been partaking in for your ease. He shoved the tie under his suit vest and straightened out the jacket.

“How do I look?”

You held your hand up in a spinning motion and he did a quick turn. “You clean up pretty well. Almost looks like you weren’t in the hospital a few days ago.” He looked good, so good you didn’t want to keep looking at him. This almost qualified as torture.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling from the depth of it. Just that small detail made your stomach flip. You needed to get this under control-

Oh, right, your dress. “Rex, can you actually help me with his?”

He nods, waiting for you to do something but you just stand there. Shit, you should have just risked ripping the damn thing. “It’s my dress. I can’t get it zipped.”

“Oh.” He blinks a few times. “Your dress has been unzipped this whole time?”

“I got it part of the way, so it’s not falling off or anything, calm down.” You tried to joke but your palms were sweating. If anyone needed to calm down, it was you. All you were doing was asking for a zip, pull yourself together. After checking that he was still waiting to help, you shake out your hands at your sides and then turn so he can do what you’ve asked. “Hopefully you’re better at zipping than buttoning.” The chuckle that follows your words is dry.

“I think I can manage.” His voice is low, and you can feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck, causing you to suppress a shiver. You should have asked Bulletproof, woken him up, or something. You can feel his fingertips press lightly into your back as he holds the two sides together so that his other hand can pull up the zipper. The contact itself gives you goosebumps, every thought you can conjure now that isn’t about the feel of him is praying that he doesn’t notice. “I think you’re set.”

“Thanks, Rex.” His hands don’t leave your back in haste, his left hand brushing over your exposed shoulder blade. You turn a notch, looking at him against your better judgment.

He clears his throat and puts his hands down. “You’re set.”

“You said that already.” You smile, mildly confused.

He stares at you again, expression unreadable, and his jaw ticking like before. Then, he steps back. “Someone’s got to wake sleeping beauty.” His previous expression fades and is replaced by one of mischief, as he tips over to where Bulletproof is. Fully intending to scare him awake.

The plane eventually landed, and the three of you talked about your game plans, which ended up just being ‘don’t be suspicious, mingle-’ pretty self-explanatory.

“Where are we?” You were looking out the window, your fingers splayed out around it as you leaned down. There were other planes around you, but from the way you were angled, you couldn’t see the airport.  

Both of the guys shrugged, helpful as always. You moved to the nose of the plane where the pilot had already opened up the door.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Rex followed up close behind you.

“We landed in the backyard.”

Rex looked out at the other planes lined up next to you and then over at the looming mansion. “What the fuck?”

Author's Note: Rex is so yapper boyfriend core. Guys tell me what color’s your dresses and Rex’s tie is :3

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul request to be tagged for new parts!

[plainsviemenace]

"He actually said that? I'm gonna knock some sense into his head for her. Dragging her around that long isn't fair to her. I could never do you like that. I'll ask him what the problem is and we can work to get it in the right direction." Sarah was family in Max's eyes and he wanted her and George to be as happy as he and Sabrina were. "I think losing the baby made her care less about that and more about us and our feelings. Not so much about what her or the family want. She knows better than to say we can't get married. I would let her know so fast that she doesn't tell us what we can do. Our lives and our children's lives don't belong to her or anyone else." He smiled and cupped her face. "You really are special but you don't have to agree to that. I don't want my beliefs pushed on you or our kids. I love that you want to do that for me but I'm not sure we should push things on them or you. I want you or them to believe what you believe and if it's the same great but if it's not then I'll live with that." Softly he kissed her lips thinking how unselfish she was to want to do that for him and his family. "She'll fight me but I'll give her kisses to hush her till mama's back with her." Winnie had sensed from day one how needed she was and always lay by Sabrina even when she was sad and crying, Winnie would lick her face to cheer her up.

"Yes, I wasn't looking for a rape roleplay." He wasn't sure if she got off on that but that wasn't where his mind was. "More a seduction. I haven't really thought out all the details on it." He let out a chuckle as she mentioned the bathroom. "You keep being up fucking in the bathroom so I'm assuming that's something you want to do." He couldn't help but laugh as he mentioned Vegas. "No, I don't plan to beat the shit out of them.....just scare them a little bit is all. If you think that could get out of hand then we can forget that one. I'm not stressing you out again like before." He listened to her ideas and nodded his head. "Role reversal this time with me as the boss, now that could be fun. Like a real business call? Sure thing, kitten. I'm not scared and that would be hot. Ha, I knew chocolate would be in here and hell yeah. We can both roll in it and then lick it off each other. " He watched her eagerly suck his cum off of his fingers. "See I know what my girl likes and yes, you redeemed yourself from earlier. Showed daddy how good you can be and reminded him not to tease you till you get impatient." He did enjoy watching her touch herself. It had been one of the things he asked her to let he watch and it always turned him on. Earlier he was only upset because he told her not to cum and she did but now his eyes were glued to her fingers as they thrust inside of her. "You have no idea how hot that is." He slid his had downward and licked at her clit, sucking it as she finger fucked herself. Slowly he slipped a finger inside of her and began to follow her fingers rhythm as they both thrust into her.

“He is way behind. He said that Sarah doesn’t want that. No matter how many times I say that isn’t true.” She rolled her eyes. Sarah and her were best friends, they talked about everything from marriage to babies. She knew that George was just scared to take that next big step. “She’s not? I’m glad. I was worried she would start trying to pressure us into it. Or say we can’t get married or some shit.” She shrugged. The last thing she wanted was to not being able to marry Max. But she also knew he wouldn’t put up with that. “But I also don’t want to completely ignore your religion. Like it’s part of us. And whatever kids we have will be Jewish.” They had never talked about what would happen when they actually have kids. But the thoughts had crossed her mind more recently since she had originally found out she was pregnant. Just because her family wasn’t religious, didn’t mean that she couldn’t let her kids be. She wasn’t sure how it would all work out if she wasn’t jewish, but they would figure it out like they always did. “She is, but she can hang with daddy for a few hours.” She laughed. “She might fight you on it though.”

He had mentioned telling her his ideas when they got back home, but she was pleasantly surprised when he brought them up. She rose an eyebrow at the first one. “So like want me to fight back until I just give into the robber?” She asked, trying to imagine what all he wanted with that. “Oh, pretending we’re single and you chasing a guy away could be fun. Could fuck me in the bathroom before you take me home. Or fuck me on the dance floor again.” She teased, pressing a kiss against his lips. “But you chasing a guy away doesn’t mean that you’ll beat them again, right? Because if I’m sitting at a bar alone, I can guarantee someone is gonna come up and try and get with me.” She definitely didn’t want to risk a Vegas 2.0 with the beating. They had lucked out that the guy had never went to the cops after the fact. But Sabrina was ready to fight back if he had and say it was all self defense on their end. But that didn’t mean they would be lucky the second time, although Tony would definitely bail Max out and probably erase whatever happened. Money was good at times. “I’ve had a few. Other than dominating you, and with the roleplaying route - could do boss and employee. I have to have sex with you to get raise. Maybe give you head while you’re on a business call… Actually, that’d be hot. See how long you can last before you break while you’re on the phone with someone important.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, letting her fingers lightly scratch at his shoulders. “Or chocolate. I haven’t had the privilege of licking chocolate off of your body. Off of your cock.” They both knew how much she loved chocolate, and it wouldn’t be the first time she had brought food play into the bedroom. It made the whole experience sweet and sticky. “I think your cock would taste delicious with some chocolate on it,” she smirked. She watched as he continued to fuck her tits. Even though she didn’t have a lot, he still made them work with his size. “Your cock looks so hot between them.” She let out a moan. As he got off of her and the bed, she looked up at him, her eyes glued to his as he jerked off. Her tongue stuck out far enough to lick her lips as she felt him start releasing his load on her tits. “Mhmmm that’s it daddy, cover my tits.” She smirked as he scooped his cum up and brought them to her lips, mainly because if he didn’t do it, she was going to. She wrapped her lips around his fingers and sucked his fingers clean. “I love the taste of your cum.” She murmured softly. “I get a choice of what you do to me next?” She asked. Normally she didn’t, and it was all a loving surprise. “I want you to eat me and then fuck me. Teach me a lesson for being such a brat to you tonight.” Her hand moved to her breast, scooping some cum up and then she moved her hand between her thighs, teasing her clit. “Unless you rather me make myself cum again. Could actually watch it this time.” She smirked, her fingers moving down further and pushed through her folds, moaning as she thrusted them into herself, her eyes still maintaining eye contact with him.

[panbhonpan]

Is there a possibility you could draw Radford…the popcorn boy…the. Nerd. What’s wrong with him

Love your art btw 🥹

HI ANON HI ANON!!! IM SO SORRY- THIS MONTH HAS BEEN CRAZY FOR ME BUT I'M FINALLY HERE WITH THE BOIIII HERE YA GOOO

LOOK AT THE NEEERRRDDD ALSO, THANK U SO MUCHH!!! AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AAA- HOPE U GET TO SEE THIS aLSO- thanks , because you made me appreciate Radman more smnsmns

Anyways, hope u like it!!! Ur dosis of popcorn boyy wowoowow

[arodykeism]

time to make your choice only you can be the one

[mooneln0ne]

Messy comic about his Intrusive thoughts

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[navybrat817]

Late Night Shenanigans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky searches for Alpine when she gets out one night and finds her curled up with you.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter and Alpine likes her, bit of grumpy!Bucky, humor, attraction, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @starlightcrystalline sent me this IG video and I had to do something for her. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was going to kill Sam. No, not really. He wasn’t a cold-hearted killer. Just because Sam hadn’t shut the door fast enough didn’t mean it was his fault that Alpine ran out. Accidents happened, and she was lightning fast. It still stunned Bucky and Steve when Sam shouted that she got out because she hadn’t taken off like that before. Super soldier speed hadn’t worked since she was gone by the time Bucky got to the front of his place. 

They split up to look for her, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up since it was late, but he was worried since Alpine had gone past his neighborhood. She was his little buddy, his kindred spirit. He wanted her to be okay. He didn’t want her to get lost or hurt.

“Alpine?” he asked, rounding a corner and looking around. His shoulders dropped when he didn’t spot her. “C’mon, Al.”

He went down another block when he heard an unfamiliar voice in the distance, his body going stiff. “Oh, my GOD. You are seriously the cutest cat EVER.” Was this stranger talking about his cat? “Your fur is as white as snow and so soft. OOH. Is your name Snowball?”

“Snowball?” he muttered, jogging in the direction of your sweet voice. Wait, why did he think your voice was sweet?

“You’re a little purr machine! I just want to take you home and cuddle with you and keep you FOREVER.”

“Oh, no, you fucking don’t,” Bucky snarled, rounding another corner. He didn’t care how sweet you sounded. You were talking about possibly stealing his cat, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

He sighed in relief when he saw Alpine before his brows furrowed. She was curled up in your lap as you sat in the middle of the sidewalk. He had to blink to be sure his eyes were working correctly. Alpine never took to strangers like that. She liked Steve and Sam, but it still took her time to warm up to them.

Shooting them a text to let them know he found Alpine, he wondered who you were and why she was snuggling with you. 

“Al.” He whistled as he jogged the rest of the way over. Instead of jumping out of your lap like he expected, she curled into you more and purred. Maybe you had some sort of special power that made his cat relax. 

You tilted your head up and Bucky forgot how to breathe for a second. Even under the harsh light of the sidewalk lamp you were beautiful. Fuck, maybe you had some sort of special power over him, too. “Hi!” you said a little too loudly, like you didn’t have a clue how late or quiet it was. Inhaling, he could smell the alcohol on your breath from where he stood. Jesus, were you drunk? “Hooooooooe, my God. You are the hottest man I have ever seen in my life. Just… ” You waved a hand at him. “Holy fucking shit.”

He was thankful that it was either too dark for you to see or you were too drunk to notice the pink in his cheeks. Not to mention, he was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He hardly looked hot. “You’re drunk, but thanks for the compliment,” he stated, reaching out for Alpine who stubbornly stayed put. Seriously, what was her deal? She didn’t know you. He didn’t know you.

“Annnnd I’ll be sober when I wake up tomorrow, but you’ll still be really hot. That’s totally not fair.” You giggled after a moment and held Alpine up to look at him. “Isn’t he hot? Like a model or a god or something made up in a lab.” You tilted your head. “Or my dreams.”

Bucky frowned, as if he didn’t talk to his cat on a regular basis. He was trying to ignore that you were clearly physically attracted to him. That wasn’t the usual reaction people had when he came around. Not in today’s age at least. His glare didn’t even phase you since you continued to smile at him. “Al’s a cat. She can’t-”

“Meow.”

Your lower lip trembled and he feared you’d burst into tears. He had no clue what to do if you cried. “I’m soooo sorry. I didn’t know she was your cat. I swear.” His eyes widened when you tried to get to your feet, his hands going to your hips to help steady you. He was reluctant to let you go, and he felt like an ass because he probably scared you. “She just came right up to me and I only wanted to pet her for a minute.”

Your smile turned into something triumphant. “See, she agrees with me,” you said, rubbing your cheek against Alpine’s before you gasped. “Wait, you called her by a name. Do you know her?”

Bucky let out a breath, wanting to get back home and get some sleep. He had had a long day. “Yeah, she’s my cat and she got out a bit ago. Could you please give her back so I can go home?”

Bucky kept a hand on your hip when Alpine finally moved into his other arm. He felt better, but wouldn’t relax completely until he was at home. “It’s okay. I’m glad she did,” he said honestly. Because Alpine went to you, it made it much easier to find her. “Wait a second.”

“What?” you asked, making him lose his breath again when you looked him in the eyes.

He had to blink a few times and snap himself out of his stupor. What was wrong with him? “Why the hell are you out here by yourself?” he asked, trying to keep his anger in check when he took in your outfit. He was so concerned about Alpine that he didn’t clock right away that you were in a semi-revealing black dress. It was gorgeous, and that kind of look could attract all sorts of attention. Even if you weren’t drunk and all alone, the thought of someone taking advantage of you made his blood boil.

You nodded to the building beside you. “My place is RIGHT there, but it’s soooo sweet that you care about my wellbeing.” 

“Which apartment?” he asked. 

“Okay, you may be really hot and I may be drunk, but I don’t know you, so I’m not telling you my apartment number.” You wrinkled your nose. “That’s how true crimes start.”

He snorted before he could stop himself. At least you were smart enough not to tell him. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re alone out here.”

“My friends and I were celebrating a birthday at the bar a few blocks away and the birthday girl wanted to play drinking games and my luck was terrible tonight since I kept losing, or I guess winning if you count drinking as winning?” you explained, shaking your head. “Anyway, my sober friend dropped me off, but your cat walked over before I could go inside,” you continued, smiling and scratching behind her ears. At least you hadn’t walked home alone. “And it would’ve been rude of me to ignore little Snowball.”

“Her name’s Alpine,” he corrected you, but there was warmth in his tone instead of annoyance.

“My apologies, Queen Alpine.” You booped Bucky on the nose. “And what is your name?”

Bucky blinked and blinked again. He couldn’t believe you just booped him. If Steve and Sam had seen that… “It’s Bucky.”

You didn’t react to his name, simply giving him your name, too. “Do people call you ‘Buck’?” you giggled. “Because Buck rhymes with-”

“I think you should get inside,” he cut you off. “And make sure you drink some water and have some aspirin waiting beside you when you wake up.”

“Awwwwwwwwwww. You really do care about my wellbeing,” You leaned into him, stars in your eyes. “You’re a good man. I can tell.”

Bucky cleared his throat. Why would you think he was a good man? “Well, if Al likes you, you can’t be all bad.”

“I can be bad if you want me to,” you whispered exaggeratedly and winked. “Sorry, I have no filter when I drink.”

“Yeah, I sensed that,” he deadpanned. It was kind of refreshing. “Do you always flirt with strange men like this?” he asked, feeling a surge of jealousy for no reason.

“Just you, stranger,” you answered. He believed you only because you seemed too sweet to lie. “Thanks for being nice and letting me snuggle with your cat.”

You had to be drunk to say he was nice. “I’m a grump.”

You booped his nose again. “Whatever you say, Mr. Grump,” you said, giving Alpine one last pet. “See you later, Alpine.”

The meow Alpine let out sounded so sad it almost broke Bucky’s heart. “It’s late, Al. She needs rest, and so do we.”

“Night night!” you called back, somehow managing to walk in a straight line up the building door. “Sweet dreams!”

“What if Al wants to see you again?” he asked. 

You paused and smiled over your shoulder. “If you want to see me again, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

As tempting as it was to ask for your number or give him yours, you were drunk. You’d probably forget all about him in the morning. Besides, you might have a boyfriend. So he held Alpine closer and watched you go inside, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“You gave me a real scare, Al,” he said, walking away as Alpine looked back at the building. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

For Alpine’s sake, he hoped they’d see you again.

And for his own sake, he hoped you were single.

Had to be done, lovelies! When and where will he see you again? See what happens next with Late Night Recap. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[kabukinomoe]

YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT

YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT.

Don't get your head in those doubts like, 'Oh, what if I can't shift?' That's not possible. You were chosen to know about shifting for a REASON. There are 8.2 BILLION people in this world. Think about it. 8 BILLION people.

Now, how do you feel? Do you feel special? GOOD. Keep feeling that way. Some of you, not all of you, read these posts on Tumblr but don't really READ them.

'Oh, I'm the creator of my universe.' Yes, but do you really UNDERSTAND that? I feel like for some of you, it's like you're in front of a teacher, and each word just goes in one ear and out the other. Now, shifting isn't this ELABORATE and majestic thing that needs to be taught in a specific way. It's not like driving, okay? There are no rules, no directions, just YOU. Understand that it's just YOU.

That drink in your hand? You created that. The computer or phone you're reading this on? You created that. Everything in this world YOU created.

You are doing everything right. You know what I mean.

You will wake up in your DR. Those sleep methods you're doing? They're working perfectly. You aren't just 'close,' you are THERE. You have always been there, since the beginning of whatever. No need to think you are close, because you are there.

'Oh, but what if I don't shift today?' Shifting isn't something that needs to be rushed. Everything will happen eventually. You have shifted before; you know this. You know you need to just let go and let it happen. Don't overcomplicate it. Listen to yourself. Do you know how stupid you sound? Thousands of people have shifted to their DRs, and somehow you can't? That's just rubbish.

'Oh, what if that shift was just a dream?' What dream feels so real that you can feel the bedsheets? What dream looks like your desired reality so perfectly it has everything, even the rings and jewelry your aunt placed there on the dresser? Why did you get up and look in the mirror and see yourself perfectly and clearly? That was REAL. You shifted. Do not doubt yourself.

'But what if shifting is one elaborate joke?' Seriously? That's one of your doubts? People spend months, YEARS, shifting, and you think people are JOKING? You have spent 5 YEARS knowing about shifting and 2 or 3 actively shifting, and you still think it's a joke? YOU have to be joking with those doubts. This isn't like that one movie people suddenly made up on TikTok and started creating a plot, characters, settings, etc.; this is something real. People have been doing this even before you were born. Now, doesn't that doubt sound silly?

Now, you don't have to be perfect. Listen, people have shifted with doubts. But listen here, if you assume it is true, it is true. 'Oh, he's so in love with me.' Yeah, he is! 'Oh, my cat's super distant. Yeah, they are. Your subconscious isn't this mystical entity trying to work against you. It's like a mirror; if you look in that mirror and say, 'I can't shift,' then your subconscious repeats it. It has an IQ of 0. Like a little kid repeating every word and agreeing with your opinions. You tell that little kid, "Oh, I can shift! Everyone shifts." Then it repeats it; it agrees. That's how simple your subconscious is.

Now, what about intentions? Intentions aren't this super complicated ritual; they're just your thoughts. You don't have to write out your thoughts, burn the piece of paper, and bury the scraps in the ground. Just think. 'Oh, I set my intention to shift.' That's literally all you need to do. Your subconscious will look at you and shrug like, 'Oh okay. Let's shift!' And guess what? BOOM. You're in your DR. Simple. Literally so simple.

Now, some of you are like, "Oh, I did that! But I'm still in my CR." Look deep within yourself. Are you scared of the possibility you're going somewhere new? Or, do you expect to wake up in your CR again after doing your method? Really think about it and begin to change. Tell that subconscious that you don't expect to wake up in your CR, or tell it that you aren't scared; you're excited.

Now, as one of my favorite quotes says,

"You are a consciousness with a body, not a body with a consciousness."

Go shift. Go do your method, or just fall asleep and wake up in your DR. It's that simple. And every time you feel doubts, PERSIST. 'Oh, what if—' NOPE. I am going to shift.

You know about shifting for a reason. You can shift. It is INEVITABLE.

Now don't look at me all dumb; you know this. You've heard it a million times. Don't roll your eyes; THINK, and absorb this information.

Now go do whatever silly little thing you are going to do. But just know, you can shift. You WILL shift.

[This whole thing is for me, but I feel like some of you need it as well.]

some dividers by @si-eunnis

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house. 

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls. 

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You  bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you. 

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly. 

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows. 

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team. 

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly. 

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs. 

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back. 

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-” 

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same. 

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled. 

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder. 

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle. 

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him. 

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before. 

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes. 

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly. 

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you. 

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words. 

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations. 

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing. 

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again. 

“Harder,” you whimper. 

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other. 

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial. 

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out. 

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday. 

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door. 

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

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[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.