#bc they seem to lean more toward a regular woman

[tibli]

i think samus should be 6'3" and 200lbs again ❤️

[kny-agere]

A little angsty request Muichiro regresses and thinks Obanai is Yuichiro

Didn’t do it tooo angsty but I hope it’s still good (and added Mitsuri bc I felt it pushed things along better).

★彡☆彡★彡

“He won’t let me put him down.” Iguro had been holding Muichiro for at least an hour at this point. As a demon slayer he had the strength to do so but somehow it was still tiring. Iguro wanted to go lie down for a bit or simply have some time to himself.

“Maybe he’s hungry,” Mitsuri suggested. She was clearly worried. Usually the younger hashira clinged to the woman. They could hardly be separated. For Tokito to barely have any interest in her was a sign something was wrong, except the boy seemed perfectly happy. “I’ll get some fruit for us!”

She disappears and still Muichiro barely blinks. He happily nuzzles Obanai’s chest and pulls at his hair. The one or two pieces that are a little longer are easy to grasp. The younger boy seems a little spacier than usual. In between soft kisses and tight hugs he stares at Iguro’s face with a strange look on his face. Then he blinks rapidly a few times and goes back to being more active.

The few times Kanroji had tried to take him into her hands Tokito had almost immediately burst into tears. His face screwed up and the boy gripped Iguro’s haori like a lifeline. Normally he’d be treating Kanroji like that.

At least in the older slayers arms he wasn’t complaining or squirming around much. Though it didn’t seem like the boy would be falling asleep any time soon either.

“We had peaches! I cut them up really small so Mui-kun doesn’t have trouble eating them.”

“He can eat regular slices just fine.”

“It’s better this way! He’s my baby and I’ll treat him like one.” Kanroji sat beside Iguro and waved a small peach cube in the young boys face. Muichiro huffed and turned back into Obanai’s chest. Immediately Mitsuri wilts.

“Do you think he hates me?” The woman sounds nearly hysterical. Tears build in her eyes.

“He doesn’t.” Iguro almost growls. He refuses to think that anyone could even dislike Mitsuri. “Don’t you want your mama?” This time he directs the words towards Tokito. It’s rare they use such familiar words, ones like mother and father. Obanai hopes it’ll remind the younger slayer who cares for him most.

“Bubber.” The words are utter nonsense but Muichiro speaks the words a few times over while he nuzzles any part of Iguro he can reach.

“What is he saying?” Mitsuri manages to stop her tears for a few minutes. “Do you have a little nickname for Iguro-kun?” She pokes his cheek and at the very least he doesn’t whine at all.

Muichiro takes a deep breath. “Brud-bur.” He focuses very hard when speaker. One of his small hands tugs at Obanai’s hair again. The older man still looks confused.

Kanroji has gone very quiet. She looks sad again but not for herself. Leaning in close to Iguro she speaks very softly, “I think he’s saying brother.”

Suddenly he doesn’t care so much about having to coddle the young boy.

[citadelofmythoughts]

Talk of the Yang dance dance infiltration concept art (saying the episode name bc it’s one of the few I know by heart) is really fun to think about. Bc it’s Concept art but it’s not what they went with. And the big festival were cut for animation reasons but they could’ve still went with a golden sleek dress and fancy heels for Yang. But like you and others have said they didn’t and that feels more like a young woman who doesn’t know how she wants to present or be seen. Yang doesn’t dance with anyone aside from Blake and after that she’s just watching the party from above, not involved even tho she and Weiss were part of the set up crew so you’d think she would wanna enjoy it

BUT this also made me think about Ruby. And how in the show she said she wasn’t a “fancy dancy” kind of girl, mostly talking about how she isn’t used to wearing / isn’t fond of the heels she’s wearing. Shes a big boots kinda person, flat at the bottom, not heels like Blake or anyone else.

And it’s interesting to think about the sisters with this contrast. Yang who when fighting (where she feels most confident bc she doesn’t have to think about how she looks but what she’s doing) has the showers and the exposed vest but she also has the jacket and the boots. It’s a mix of more fem and masc leaning styles blending together. At the dance she wears a dress, traditional feminine style, but she’s not looking to be Seen in it. At this point it doesn’t seem to bother her but maybe subconsciously she’s like I don’t want ppl to have this image of me be the stand out image. I’ll be in a plain dress for one night and then it’s back to regular me.

Where Ruby expresses to both Jaune and Ozpin that parties and dances and these types of shoes aren’t her style at all. She has her Combat Skirt but she also has hwe cape and her utility belt. It’s a more cute punk style mixed with functionality vs the fashion only of her dance outfit.

Yang says with her actions that she doesn’t want to be seen and doesn’t know how she wants to be seen. Ruby says with her words what she doesn’t like. Even though Yang dances openly with Blake, and Ruby is complimented by her sister, they both aren’t 100% comfortable dressing in this type of girly way. And while Yang as she’s grown is leaning towards more masculine and butch, and Ruby is still I’d say more feminine by contrast, both sisters are less feminine presenting than Blake and Weiss. Which I think is fun for team and them being sisters as well.

Team rwby running the broad scope of soft Butch Yang, high Femme Weiss, with Ruby and Blake filling out the middle.

This is so good and so accurate. Honestly I feel like CRWBY was ahead of the curve in how the girls would ultimately feel about themselves and how they wanted to present.

[nyehilismwriting]

How does everyone view their own gender? What are their ✨feelings✨ towards themselves (and maybe about how the world views them) on that matter? Like, we know that Rhaxa doesn't really fit on the whole human gender spectrum and just uses they/them for convenience, but what about everyone else?? Has Leanna or Ki-ha ever questioned their own gender?? Spill the teaaa 😔✋

ough okay. got long and rambly so putting individual character breakdowns below the cut <3

as a rule, i think the hadea world falls somewhere between contemporary western society and an idealised future in terms of gender roles, misogyny, and transphobia. while nonbinary and trans identities are far more widely accepted and normalised as a whole, it’s a strongly wealth-driven society, which results in a fair amount of rainbow capitalism - nash and the commander, for example, are highly successful, well-regarded nonbinary people at the top of their fields in paramilitary espionage. the director is a powerful, driven, successful woman who orders corporate assassinations on a regular basis. it’s a combination of much wider personal freedom, with more limited medical access and a general idea that any group of people can be exploited for profit, regardless of their identity.

so rhaxa doesn't care, lmao. if i had to use contemporary terminology i'd describe them as agender - this doesn't 100% apply since it still assumes an opposition to other genders/an existing binary, which isn't something the aliens have. even within alien society, though, rhaxa's never had to put much thought into their role or position, which is part of the reason they're so relaxed about pronouns and the identities people might be projecting onto them. they're very confident in themself, and gender doesn't play any role in their identity so it's all just. 🤷‍♀️

i've talked a bit about imxa's particular pronoun use in this post - obviously, this is based on some not entirely accurate preconceptions about human ideas of gender, and missing some nuance about misogyny and such, but those aren't things imxa has much of a clue about. people tend not to try to be misogynistic towards you when you're a giant scary bug, strangely enough.

nash is... nonbinary. ik this is kind of a null statement but that's how they see themself: they're not transmasc or transfemme, they're just. themself. which I think is part of the reason they started identifying that way, and have done for a long time; they’re very firmly in the “i just work here” camp, with a side of “whose business is it anyway”.

with rohan, i kind of oscillate a bit; xe’s always pretty femme regardless of the pronouns you choose for xem, but i think xir gender is always a bit more of a Presentation. whatever it is xe’s doing - whether it’s leaning into hyperfeminity or gnc-ness, it’s always a bit of a performance. i tend to think of xem as a little more fluid than the others, and that’s definitely in part bc xe’s gender-selectable, but i think that there’s an element of using it as armour there, too; xe’s obviously got a lot of Stuff going on (got a ‘send rohan to therapy’ anon literally as i typed this answer) and the more layers xe can put between xemself and the outside world, the better. i also have a lot of thoughts about the gender-selection mechanic: i’m not fully decided whether i’m happy with the choice to describe xem as a man/woman/person as a way of deciding xir pronouns, and that’s something i might edit at some point, cause i do think regardless of what you choose, xe’s up to some shit, there. even if you choose she/her pronouns and end up with a feminine woman, there’s a lot of performance around that choice; it’s not a subconscious decision on xir part, it’s always very deliberate. at least in part, it’s a way of making xemself seem nonthreatening, both physically and socially.

leanna’s always been pretty settled into her identity as a cis woman; she’s a lesbian, which is a big part of how she IDs, but i think she’s spent most of her life in various lgbt circles. she approaches it from a fairly pragmatic perspective; she’s a cis woman, not because it’s the default or the ‘assumed’ gender for her, but because she’s decided that’s what suits her.

ki-ha...he’s a very private person. he has thought about it a lot, done the gender questioning thing, but i do have relevant stuff planned for him ingame so i’m gonna 🤐 same with skylar - i have a lot of thoughts for my lil guy that have yet to resolve into a solid plan. i just have to sit very still and not look at them directly until they come to me.

[narraboths]

you know that catco employees are already groaning whenever Kara walks into the office with a new hairstyle or a new outfit bc they know they're going have to put up with their boss staring like she's never seen a woman before

Kara Danvers is, objectively speaking, an incredibly worthy object of one’s workplace crush.

Most of CatCo’s employees will readily admit that they’ve all been there: Kara Danvers is lovely and kind, she has the nicest laugh, she’s practically sunshine personified. She remembers people’s birthdays, brings them coffee unasked, and attempts to temper Cat Grant’s wrath whenever it threatens to strike. Even when she gets bumped to junior reporter, she’s still the same charming goofball, only she now rushes in and out of the building chasing stories  with a vengeance instead of lattes. Who could ever resist a crush on her?

Most of CatCo’s employees, however, will also hasten to point out that they could at least keep their infatuation to a reasonable level.

When Lena Luthor first walks into the CatCo bullpen, heading towards Kara without sparing a look for anyone else, the bullpen falls so deadly silent for a second, the clicking of her Louboutins is the only sound that can be heard. Then they all go back to acting totally, extremely normal, as if the most notorious new citizen of National City (a billionaire tech genius at that) isn’t flirting up a storm with a cub reporter right before their very eyes. They only snicker about the gala invitation in a very restrained way, with the appropriate amount of concern and jealousy, Luthor sure knows what connections she needs, Danvers better look out and You’d be trying to make that connection too if you were in her position.

Then the visits become a regular occurrence. 

Lena Luthor, CEO of a Fortune 500 company and a staple of 30 under 30 lists, shows up every week, and patiently waits around till Kara, who earnestly says golly and has to be reminded that exclusive is spelled without a ‘k’, stumbles across her. She beams at Kara’s rambling, laughs delightedly at her bad puns, calls her darling in a tone of voice that makes eavesdroppers blush, and bites her lip like she knows exactly what it is that she’d like to devour, and it’s certainly not the vegan bar that she’s dragging Kara away to for lunch. (CatCo refuses to publish the paparazzi shots that surface every third day of the week, but other outlets are not so squeamish.) And Kara meets her every step of the way, face lighting up whenever she sees Lena (even on TV, some note), hugging her tightly with every hello and goodbye even longer than necessary. She gushes about Lena’s projects and meets Lena’s own compliments to her writing with bashful smiles and fidgeting hands. Properly and utterly enamored.

The office settles into the new status quo, young love and all, though it seems to be incredibly slow-burning, with the entirety of CatCo (and likely half of L-Corp) getting front-row tickets to its process. Snapper mumbles about professional boundaries. People start a betting pool, and stare at Kara with a bit more hopeless yearning when she storms past them to greet Lena with a wide smile.

But then, there’s something else that changes with their courtship: Kara starts to get dapper.

She’s already looked unreasonably dashing in thin cardigans and pastel button-ups before, drawing dreamy sighs from the interns she’d stroll past. Now, it’s starting to verge on it’s a public menace to look that hot. The shirts get tighter, more crisp, and with it, her biceps and powerful shoulders considerably more accentuated. Well-tailored jackets start to make an appearance in her wardrobe, along with slim ties (their quirky patterns a testament to Kara’s nature), and elegantly knit jumpers come winter. And Kara starts to stand a little taller, too, shoulders squared and chin held high, her steps ever so slightly wider and more confident every time she has to chase after Snapper in one of their daily bouts.

The effect of it in the office is most profound. A rolled-up shirtsleeve and a hint of tensing muscles, and Jen at the art department almost scraps a magazine cover in her stupor. An unbuttoned collar and loosened tie at a late night editorial meeting, and Mackenzie nearly pours her coffee into her lap. 

And the very cause of this upheaval is certainly not immune to Kara’s newfound charms, either. There’s already been plenty of physical affection between the pair, as most of the office and a whole wealth of pap photos would attest, but now, it’s bordering on handsiness. Lena takes any opportunity to squeeze Kara’s arm, run a hand over her shoulder, or rest a hand on her forearm as they talk, and the bullpen grows green with jealousy.

When Cat Grant departs for the White House and L-Corp swoops in for the acquisition, the mood turns explosive.

Any illusions about the lovebirds keeping things more strictly professional with the change of management are shattered when Kara strides into the boss’ office with a gift-wrapped planner, all giddy, only to be greeted with their usual hug. Someone lets out a groan.

It only gets expectably worse.

It’s no fault of Lena Luthor’s overall management style – she’s a decent boss, a shockingly good one, even, if one considers the family name and all its implications, and infinitely milder than Miss Grant had been. But there’s only so many times one can witness their chief blushing in the middle of a meeting, or get lost in impure thought staring through the glass walls of the boardroom, out into the bullpen where the office heartthrob is currently stretching, providing an ample view of her entire upper body musculature. There’s only so many times they can watch Lena lean against Kara’s desk and reach down to gently smooth out her shirt’s collar or fiddle with the lapels of her jacket as they talk. At some point, Lena helping Kara tie the bespoke silk tie that she’s recently gifted her after a trip to Italy, batting away her “Lena, you really shouldn’t have” with “Nonsense, darling” and then stopping to fiddle with the damn thing, staring up at Kara with that unmistakably smitten expression becomes just another Tuesday morning at CatCo.

To say that there is a sigh of relief once news of CatCo once again changing hands start to spread is no understatement.

Andrea Rojas seems like a hardass and people start to feel a sense of comfort. She’s a businesswoman through and through, one whose ideas about running the place might be battled, but one who certainly won’t be head over heels for a pair of pretty blue eyes and jacked arms.

Antsiness and relief thus both settle over the first office-wide meeting Ms Rojas calls, preparing to address the entire staff. The first couple of sentences are delivered smoothly, with none of the longing looks cast into the crowd towards a certain blonde that they’ve had to get used to before, and people are starting to feel safe.

Then, getting to the meat of her speech, Andrea Rojas takes a breath and turns towards where the cream of CatCo’s crop is gathered, with Kara Danvers standing at the very front, arms crossed, navy suit hugging her imposing figure tightly, forehead crinkled in annoyed concentration.

Andrea Rojas looks, then looks again, and skids to a halt, lips parting as she takes in the view. Twelve seconds go by, an agonizing eternity, before she’d continue her speech, her gaze returning to Kara again and again.

“If you have any questions about the future of CatCo, I’d be happy to hear them now,” she finishes. “Or in my office, if you’d prefer to sound your concerns in private.”

She looks around, almost haughty before she’d turn her gaze to Kara again, biting her lip as they lock eyes, and someone in the back finally decides to give voice to what they’re all feeling:

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

[its-deputy-caleb]

haiiiiiiiiiiiiii can we get a john x fem reader wherein the reader is the doctor and a friend of the macfarlanes and they patch him up after getting shot by bill LOL (rdr1!! i’m not sure if you’ve played that but if you havent it’s ok to ignore this tysm :3)

WOAHH this is long overdue but I haven’t played the first (don’t kill me) so I decided to watch a 10hr play through— I’m yet to finish it cause its long and I’m watching it in short segments but I think I could tackle this. I really hope this doesn’t flop bc idk what I’m doing lmao.

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

It’s just a regular afternoon when Bonnie returns back to the ranch, you’re cleaning some of the medical cabinets, making lists of what needs to be topped up when you next take a trip to town or the Ranch’s general store. It’s light work for an easy afternoon but that all change pretty quickly when Bonnie came storming through the door, asking you for help on a man who’d been shot and needed urgent medical attention.

The list of medicines is dropped to the floor as she shows you to one of the units where he was currently laid out in the bed. You sat down, clearing his shirt and jacket to stop the bleeding and clean the wound. You were well focused on your work, stitching up the wound with practiced ease and addressing his other minor injuries like the small cut to the back of his head from hitting the ground and the bruising to his ribs from the bullet wound. Unbeknown to you, Bonnie has taken a stand behind your shoulder to watch you work.

“Damn fool thought he could take out Bill Williamson.”

“Bill Williamson?”

You could only stare down in surprise at the unconscious man before you. A man like Bill Williamson was not to be reckoned with, especially in a shootout if the evidence before you is anything to go by.

It took a few more hours of care but Bonnie stayed with you to make light of the situation and keep you company, only coming and going to bring back any supplies you needed. Once you’d properly bandaged his abdomen you stood from the shabby wooden stool you were sitting on and dusted your hands. You collected your tools into your bag and placed a soft hand to Bonnie’s shoulder.

“He should be fine now. He’s going to need lots of rest while his wound heals and he’ll probably be disoriented and dehydrated when he wakes but nothing more, you’ll find me if his condition worsens?”

Bonnie gave you a short nod in agreement, happy to stay with him for a few hours while you went and got some rest.

-

John woke with a splitting headache and a burning pain in his side. The events of the last few days coming back to him. He didn’t get time to think about it much however, when a golden haired woman came through the door, instantly giving him a light hearted lecture about chasing after Bill Williamson and getting shot at.

“Well while you may have done something stupid— we got to you in time and the Doc fixed you up real fine, got the bullets removed a few days ago. You’re a lucky man Mr…err?”

John made his way to the edge of the bed, sitting up and groaning at the pain that is usual for a bullet wound.

“Mr. Marston— John Marston and I suppose I should be thankin’ him for fixing me up.”

The woman leaned against the handle of the door, watching him shuffle on his feet awkwardly as she smirked at him.

“Bonnie MacFarlane. Miss, Bonnie MacFarlane and I hope you do thank her. She did a real fine job of takin’ care of you. She spends her mornings up on the hill by one of the large oak trees by the paddock, I suggest you pay her a visit before you start working off your medical bills.”

And with that, John picked up his hat from the wooden table that Bonnie had saved for him and started making his way over to you.

-

You were standing over by one of the smaller sheep paddocks off to the side of the MacFarlane Ranch and took in a deep breath, basking in the morning sun and leaning your elbows against the fence. You usually took the mornings to yourself, having half an hour to wake up slowly and enjoy yourself before you tented to a range of injuries and illnesses. Having been longtime friends to Bonnie and her father, your family had always been respected at the ranch and that came with certain privileges such as time off work in the morning.

Your peaceful moment was distributed, but not unpleasantly as you noticed the man who Bonnie bought in yesterday walking towards you. When he reached a certain distance his hat came off and held it in his hands, flattening his stringy hair as he addressed you.

“Pardon me ma’am, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Miss MacFarlane said you were the one needed thanking for taking care o’ me— so thank you.”

You noticed how he fiddled with the brim of his hat in his hands, trying not to look what you’d guess was embarrassed.

After you two introduced each other and you accepted John’s thanks, you offered for him to come and stand beside you by the fence.

“So who does a man have to be to go after an outlaw and bandit such as Bill Williamson?”

Your question was supposed to be lighthearted and fun, ready to tease him just as Bonnie had done for waltzing into Fort Mercer alone. You didn’t expect for John to answer you honestly

“An old friend…”

You stared at him in shock but he didn’t seem to notice as he stared out into the paddock of grazing sheep.

“Wait you know Bill Williamson?”

He could only nod for a moment, giving you a polite but almost sad smile at what seemed like a painful memory.

“Yes ma’am. There was a time when Bill and I weren’t so different.”

-

You actually spent a lot longer than you’d anticipated talking to John. For some reason unknown to you, John seemed to open up a fair bit. Maybe it all came down to the fact that you were approachable and kind, a quality you needed as the ranches doctor. Nevertheless he spent hours telling you about some of his time with the old ‘Van Der Linde Gang’. John spoke of train robberies and homesteads, what it was like to steal from folk and live wildly. He even mentioned gang rivalries and the epic tale of surviving a wolf attack.

He told you of some of the best times and even the worst but all of them were distance memories and he seemed quick to change the topic about why exactly he wanted to ‘reunite’ with Bill.

“What about you, Miss? How’d you end up here? Don’t see many female doctors around— w-with no offence intended ma’am.”

You let out a small laugh, hearing his curiosity turn to something desperate as he realised he may have been offensive. You kept your weight on one elbow, facing towards him and smiled.

“Well my daddy is the head doctor but he’s now semi retired. He’s a good man but he wasn’t always a doctor. A long time ago, when I was just a little girl our family were ranch handlers just like Bonnie’s family, but well… one season all the cattle got sick and were dying so my father moved to medicine. The MacFarlane’s are old friends and we’ve been with them ever since.”

John hummed, turning his gaze from you to stare at the vast Ranch that was almost a village in his eyes.

“Seem like good people— real decent folk.”

You nodded in response, growing up on this ranch became your home and you loved the MacFarlane’s very deeply.

“Indeed they are Mr.Marston, decent folk are hard to come by these days.”

Your pleasant conversation with John was suddenly interrupted by Bonnie who whistled down by the stables, clearly signalling for John to come and assist her with chores around the ranch. You could only hope that meant seeing more of John.

“It seems Miss MacFarlane will be needing my help. Thank you again ma’am, you saved my life.”

You didn’t get to say much as John took your hand in his, brining it to his mouth in a polite kiss to your knuckle before walking down the hill. He didn’t get far before you stopped him one last time.

“Oh Mr. Marston! I need to ride into town tomorrow to restock on medicines that they don’t stock at the general store. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

You eyes were full of hope and joy as he nodded and gave you a warm smile.

“It’s John, and I could think of nothing better than to help you ma’am”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto your face as you watched John load his horse and ride of with Bonnie and a few others to work at various places around the ranch. You couldn’t stop the fluttery feeling in your stomach either at the anticipation and excitement of getting to see the mysterious but intriguing man John Marston.

(I will do a part 2 since i need more time to get a feel for rdr1!!)

[hrwinter]

pre-dating supercorp where lena knows how often kara stares at her boobs and she realises that she really enjoys eliciting that reaction from her. Basically coquettish lena who's holding back on making them an official thing bc she wants to enjoy this period of flirting and being chased after

I made this a coffee shop AU, too. I’ve never done one of those, and I feel like it should be some sort of fanfic author rite of passage.

—

“Oh shit,” Lena curses. “There she is.”

Without warning, she drops below the register, reaching indiscreetly under her shirt.

“Lena, this is becoming shameless,” Sam judges from above.

“Just block me from James, won’t you?”

The coffee shop is lax, but even Lena’s not bold enough to push their ‘uniform requirements’ to the very limit on this balmy, Tuesday afternoon.

“Why are you still torturing this poor woman? She seems nice,” Sam whines, but despite the defense, she steps in front of Lena and covers her view of their manager.

“Torture?” Lena balks, unsnapping her bra. “Please, she loves it.”

“It’s cruel.”

“Done,” she hisses a second later, ignoring Sam and plucking her bra out from under her shirt. She stuffs it unceremoniously into an empty, clean coffee cup below the counter.

Lena snaps upright just as Kara sweeps into the shop. She’s a vision in a long beige coat. Her blonde hair glows butter yellow in the dying sun. Kara’s eyes meet hers, and there’s an ephemeral smile there, a smile that’s just woken up, taken it’s first breath of something sweet, and exhaled. Then, her eyes glance down. Lena’s let her apron fall to her hips, revealing her t-shirt. It’s thin, gauzy, and borderline threadbare. It’s intentional. WhenLena poses her hands on her hips, her nipples peak through.

Kara tenses, she pinkens. She doesn’t stop walking towards the counter. She also doesn’t mark the elderly woman crossing her path. She doesn’t notice the clutched steaming hot mug of coffee, the woman’s look of rapt anticipation. Kara keeps coming, eyes still trained downward, unflapping from a clear collision course.

It’s absolute pandemonium.

“I feel guilty,” Sam says with a resigned sigh. Kara’s nearly bowled the old woman over and coffee’s splattered over the floor, the walls, like an arterial crime scene. James rushes over to help, to appease with his easy, confident smile.

“I feel like an accomplice to your crime.”

Lena merely smirks, flush with victory. She pulls her apron back up and over her shoulders.

“Your breasts need an insurance policy. Look at the mayhem they’ve caused.”

Lena watches the scene thoughtfully.

“What are the chances I could wear my apron over just my bra without getting fired?”

“Slim to none.”

“Shame.”

—

It hadn’t always been like this. It had started out fairly innocuous. Kara’s a regular. She’d been coming into The Sentient Bean like clockwork on Tuesdays and Thursdays for almost a year. She teaches for a graduate program at the campus nearby, that much Lena has figured out. She’s polite to the staff, dreamy in her comments about the pastries, and charming by all accounts. Plus, she’s gorgeous in a homegrown, corn fed, Midwest manners kind of way.

But.

Lena’s also discovered by a happy accident that Kara, the hapless lesbian, is highly prone to giving in to temptation. What started out as Lena playing absently with the long chain of her necklace on one slow afternoon at the shop quickly progressed to Lena intentionally touching her exposed collarbone. It became Lena wearing thin fabric and bright pink bras. It became mesh tops and plunging necklines. It became Kara’s complete inability to function.

What can she say? Lena enjoys Kara’s Pavlovian response.

“It’s honestly a little desperate,” Sam condemns.

“It’s called foreplay, Samantha. Understandable you haven’t heard of it, being heterosexual and all–”

“Stop talking,” Sam holds up a hand.

After that, they’re busy busing tables and whipping up cappuccinos for a few bleary-eyed, sleep deprived college students.

“Why don’t you just leave her your number?” Sam wanders back over to her, dropping dirty cups into the wash basin.

“Are you kidding? And ruin the mystery? This is the best part.”

Sam taps her finger nails on the counter, nonplussed.

“Come on,” Lena continues. “You know the second I give her my number, she’ll call, and then I’ll find out something terrible like she’s a drug addict or an art student or secretly obsessed with toe nails.”

“Or she’ll find out your last name and reject you?”

Lena doesn’t comment.

“Just let me have my fun,” she pouts.

“Fine, fine. But I’m not taking her order this time,” she shoves off the counter right as Kara enters the shop. “I feel like a voyeur with the way she watches you make her drink,” she grumbles.

Lena shrugs. Fine by her. More face time with Kara. Sam knows she’ll get elbowed in the kidney, too, if she tries to make Kara’s drink.

“Hi Kara,” Lena greets, licking her lips. Kara smiles, eyes flicking down.

“Uh-hi,” she falters hands reaching to clench at the counter as if that will keep her steady.

Lena hasn’t even worn anything too outrageous today. Just the same long silver chained necklace that started it all. It disappears into the cleavage of her tight black shirt, and she has her hair braided, all twelve ear piercings in. The sleeve of her tattoo winds up her left forearm. She’s looking innocent and modest, if you ask her.

But she can tell Kara doesn’t see it that way. There’s an awkward beat where the unfortunate soul seems to momentarily forget why she’s there.

“White mocha?” Lena supplies.

“Oh-uh-yes, please.”

Lena saunters to the espresso machine, prepping to make the drink. Her jeans are black (and tight), too. She can feel Kara’s eyes on her ass like a hot brand.

“How-how much?” Kara chokes out.

“On the house,” Lena swivels her head to smile. Kara’s eyes flick up. Lena winks.

Somewhere in the background, Sam groans.

Kara doesn’t hear it, moving to wait near the stir sticks, watching Lena’s hands work with a trained proficiency. There’s an intensity to her interest that has Lena blushing slightly, and when she goes to hand Kara the drink, their fingers brush.

“Bye Lena,” Kara waves, walking backwards. She also does a clumsy peace sign, too.

“Please put that poor girl out of her misery,” Sam whispers from behind Lena.

—

Lena’s not ready for Kara to come in on a Monday morning. She’s dressed to code. Her makeup’s not on. She’s enraptured in a heavy daytime fantasy about getting back into bed. She and Sam had gone out last night, and she can still taste the pickle shots on the back of her tongue. She has bad breath, looks like hammered shit, and probably smells like a stained bar pool table.

So, naturally, there her crush is, frazzled and positively harassed as she comes rushing up to the counter.

“Look, Lena, my sister said I just can’t wait any longer, and I was wondering if–”

Her eyes glance up for the first time, roving over Lena’s outfit.

“Why are you dressed like that?“

“Huh?” Lena asks after a beat, deciding to play dumb. “Like what?”

“You’re–you’re dressed like,” she waves her finger at the two other employees in the shop. “Everyone else.”

“What do you mean? I do work here—”

“No!” Kara nearly shouts, and Lena can’t help but let a smile break.

“So, you have been doing that on purpose?” Kara asks, sounding adorably persecuted.

“Maybe,” Lena hushes, leaning across the counter and into Kara’s personal space. She can smell a perfume then, maybe a shampoo or a lotion. Lena wants to fold herself into it forever.

Kara takes a huge breath, breathes out, and Lena can feel it on her lips.

“Go out with me.”

She smiles.

“Okay.”

[lsvdw-blog]

Not a Minute More: Part I

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings; Rating: Minor angst at the end; General

Premise: Ethan and MC are living in a honeymoon bliss and going about their normal routine. Then something happens that rocks Ethan to his core and threatens to change his life.

Author’s Note: New series comin' at ya! This is my first time writing fluff, so please excuse me if it's cringey 😅 Thank you to @choiceskatie for pre-reading!! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

~ Monday, 7:00am ~

“Good morning, handsome.”

Serena walks up to an omelette-making Ethan, wraps her arms around his waist, and places a gentle kiss on his shoulder blade.

Ethan places one hand over hers, a smile spreading across his face, while the other wields a spatula.

He plates the omelette, turns the stove off, and turns in Serena’s arms to face her. He tightly envelops her, placing a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Good morning, indeed,” he smiles.

“Mmm, that’s my line,” she says, her hands moving leisurely up his bare chest, and her eyes trailing hungrily over his gym-honed physique.

Ethan lets out a hearty chuckle, turning slightly to grab their breakfast.

“As much as I’d love to take you back to bed," he gives her a quick peck, "you have a big day ahead of you, so,” he hands her a plate, “actual protein.”

“Buzzkill,” Serena pouts as she takes the ham, cheese, and veggie omelette from him. Ethan shakes his head in amusement and places one hand on her lower back to guide her towards the dining room table.

“For now, but in 10 hours…” he raises an eyebrow and smirks at her.

“10 hours and not a minute more,” she responds, sitting down, and giving him a stern look.

He laughs again. Something he’s been doing a lot more of since she came into his life. “Yes, baby.”

That seems to please Serena as she smiles and does a little wiggle in her chair, cutting into her omelette.

His apartment overlooks the glittering Charles River and the towering Boston skyline — a view people would kill for. But he’s not paying attention. His eyes are trained on the woman next to him. His t-shirt falls to her mid-thighs, her midnight hair tied at the nape of her neck, and the dainty gold necklace she never takes off is brilliant in the early morning glow. Serena shifts slightly and the faint smell of sunscreen wafts towards him.

“SPF on the face is important!” He grins at the memory.

She spends most of her time at Ethan's place nowadays. It's more private, compared to her shared apartment, and there's more space for them to sprawl out and be a couple. They cook dinner together, with Ethan learning to make her favorite dishes and incessantly asking her to taste test to ensure he gets the flavor right. They've made loading the dishwasher and walking Jenner into a two person job. He's even caught her stashing away some of his clothes in her overnight bag before: "I'm borrowing them!"

On the off nights when she insists on staying at her place to catch up on laundry or spend time with her friends, Ethan goes home to a dark and unwelcoming apartment. There is no source of laughter, light, or warmth. He never noticed it before, but now, Serena is his source of all of that, and more. Home is wherever she is.

How did I get so lucky?

“Why aren’t you eating?” Her head is tilted to the side and her brows are slightly furrowed.

Her question brings him out of his trance. He stares at her for a beat, his azure eyes filled with adoration. “Just admiring the view.”

Serena rolls her eyes and goes to playfully smack his arm, but he catches it. Interlaces their fingers and brings it to his lips. Her eyes soften as they gaze at each other.

“I could get used to mornings like this, you know," he rumbles.

"Yeah?"

He nods his head. "Yeah. I love spending them with you."

"The feeling is mutual, Dr. Ramsey." She leans in, stopping a hair's breadth away from his lips. "But I gotta get ready for my big day now," she says with a glint in her eye.

Ethan tries, and fails, to catch her lips with his own as she leans away and gets up from the table. "You're such a tease."

"Am I? Or are you just getting slow in your old age?" She playfully retorts.

Ethan stands abruptly from the table, chasing after her. Serena squeals in surprise and takes off towards the ensuite.

~ 7:40am ~

Ethan is leaning against the doorframe, arms and feet crossed, admiring Serena as she applies the finishing touches to her makeup.

"How many times are you going to stare at me today?" Serena questions.

He pushes off the doorframe and walks over to her. "As many times as you'll allow Rookie."

He hugs her waist. "Are you ready for today?"

Serena sighs and leans back into him. "I'm a little nervous. If testing doesn't go well today, we'll have to start from scratch. All our work, gone."

For the past few months, Serena has been consulting on a classified research project headed by scientists and engineers at Harvard University. The team was incredibly impressed with her capabilities, shown in saving Dr. Banerji's life and being the 2nd youngest member of the renowned Edenbrook Diagnostics Team, and liked that she provided a younger perspective. They brought her on and Ethan makes the 15 minute detour to drop her off three times a week.

"You all are ready. It will go great."

She locks eyes with him in the mirror. "Thank you, E."

~ 8:15am ~

Ethan puts the car in park, turns on his hazards, and turns to look at her.

"I can't wait to hear all about how today was an absolute success. You don't need it, but good luck." He squeezes her hand.

She nods. "Only 8 hours and 45 minutes left."

"And not a minute more," he smiles at her before leaning in to kiss her.

Ethan pulls away first, not wanting her to be late, but Serena continues to go back in for more soft kisses. After the sixth one, she finally pulls away smiling. She opens the car door, swings her legs out, and walks through the secured entrance.

~ 11:00am ~

The Diagnostics Team currently has no patients, so Ethan's morning is mundane, filled with meetings and endless paperwork. He itches to call Serena to break up the monotony, but knows she won't have her phone on her until lunch: no cell phones allowed in the lab. He settles on sending her a quick text — it'll be waiting for her. He pulls up their messaging thread, sends the text, and his eyes wander upward to see the remnants of their last conversation.

She had gotten, and dressed, Jenner in a new bow tie. She then blew up Ethan's phone with photos of Jenner, photos of her and Jenner, and even a few where she was wearing one of Ethan's bow ties to match.

"Look, we're twins!!"

Ethan re-scrolls through all of the photos and can't help the smile that lights up his face at how excited she gets about a small accessory for his dog. God, I love her.

There it is again, Ethan thinks. The 3 words and 8 letters that he never thought he'd feel, let alone want to voice. This feeling has become overwhelming in the past few weeks. He's reminded of it whenever he inhales the lingering scent of her perfume in the office, when he finds one of her forgotten face products at his place, the small moments they share when she sneaks away to visit him, "just because." It consumes him and makes his heart swell.

But he knows she's been extremely stressed with project duties, on top of handling the Diagnostics Team and regular patients. It just doesn't seem right to blurt it out when she's juggling so many things. But if all goes well, her portion of the project ends on Thursday and she'll be back to her normal workload. That's why he's been secretly making romantic plans for this weekend, not only to celebrate her success, but to also finally tell her how he feels. He wants the first time he utters those words to her to be special. Magical. Extraordinary. Just like her.

Just then, his pager beeps and he's pulled out of his second Serena trance of the day. He sets his phone down on the table, pulls out his pager, and is met with a message from Dr. Delarosa, asking for a consult. Just as he exits through the door, his phone lights up with a photo of Serena and her incoming call.

~ 2:15pm ~

The consultation with Ines turned into admitting the patient under the Diagnostics Team and the rest of the afternoon was spent running through possible diagnoses. Before he knew it, it had been over 3 hours and Ethan hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. He can't help but think how much easier this case would be with Serena here and her perspective. Not only does her presence help keep him calm, but she always comes up with suggestions that would inevitably lead to the correct diagnosis. He throws his glasses on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

He begins to stand, wanting to make his way to his desk, intending to call Serena on the off chance she picks up. However, before he's even able to reach his full height, Dr. Banerji walks in.

"My boy, are you busy?"

"No. Am I needed somewhere?"

Naveen looks at him for a beat too long, causing Ethan's confusion to spike. Naveen walks to the center table and switches on the TV. There, panning around the screen is an aerial view of the Harvard University lab complex, surrounded by police cars and SWAT members, as well as multiple aircraft. In bold letters, scrolling endlessly across the bottom of the screen is: Possible attack at Harvard University labs. On lockdown.

Ethan gawks at the screen with wide eyes and his pulse immediately picks up.

"Isn't Serena at Harvard labs today?"

~~~~~~

Disclaimer: I know Ethan starts his day and gets to the hospital at an ungodly hour, but let's ignore that bc I am my MC is not a morning person 😅

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 25

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+)

A/N: me to me “you shall not write smut. BEHAVE” also me “mILE HIGH CLUB”. 2021 barely started and i already need jesus. also rip me attempting to post this before christmas but hey i refuse to let christmas end bc christmas is my only hope and love and it’s over.

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky was the first one up as the clock struck 5AM. He was anxious for the flight, for everything really. Y/N had assured him she had bought first class tickets so he’d be comfortable with the long trip but he was still reticent about flying. As an Avenger he used to do national missions, preferring not to fly as it brought him some memories he didn’t like to relieve. Sam had suggested he took some sleeping pills while the flight was going but Bucky refused not to be there to support Y/N who’d been getting called by her team 24/7 about her “mishap” as her manager like to refer to. As if a 20-something dating was something weird. Bucky knew Steve did way worse things than that but of course, she had stepped off the line, off the good girl, virgin ‘til marriage, girl next door yet just gorgeously unattainable and if Y/N hadn’t told him to stay out of it, he would’ve threatened everyone.

Anyway, other than flying he kept wondering about her family. Y/N had a big family, at least more family than he had and he wasn’t entirely sure how they would react to him. Bucky knew he wasn’t the type of man you’d like your daughter to bring in. Who’d want to say that their daughter was dating an assassin? No one. He had wanted to say no, he wanted her to have a nice holiday but looking at her there was no denying her. 

Y/N woke up half an hour later, extending her arm towards Bucky’s side only to feel the cold of the sheets on her side. She rose her torso, rubbing the sleep off her eyes before the blurry room became clear. He was sat on the big armchair, staring at the flight tickets.

     - Someone’s an early bird. - she leaned on the bed, hands under her chin as he gave her his charming smile. - Excited?

     - Nervous. - he rose from his chair to kiss her forehead. - Do you need anything, princess?

     - Just need to get dressed. - she lazily got up from her bed. - You’re gonna love it, Buck. There’s snow on the ground, we can get spiced mulled tea and go see the decorations at the West End. 

     - I’m sure I will. Now get dressed unless you plan on going to the airport in your underwear.

     - I don’t see you complaining. - she flirted, hips moving side to side as she opened his wardrobe to grab her burgundy long sleeve dress and pair of black flats. Bucky tried his best not to ogle at her and her figure in a matching black set of star motif bra and panties with garters to see through black stockings. Sometimes he had to slap himself to convince himself the woman standing in front of him actually liked him. - You’re okay with going, right?

      - Of course, princess. Whatever makes you happy.

      - Okay but what makes you happy? We don’t need to go if you don’t feel comfortable. 

      - Just regular meeting the parents nerves. - he pulled her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead. 

      - Based on the photos Rebecca has, I would say you’ve met enough parents not to be nervous anymore. 

      - Come here, you little minx. - he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in close to him. - I will have you know that I never met any of the girls’ parents. It was not a good thing for a lady to be seen alone with a man in my time, so we had to keep it a secret.

      - Mhm, were you destroying ladies’ reputations in your day, Mr. Barnes? Is that it?

      - Not my fault they couldn’t resist me. - he leaned down to kiss her but she turned her face away, naughty smile on her lips. - Don’t do that to me, princess. It’ll break my tiny heart.

      - Stop playing Romeo and grab your bags before we’re late. - she swung her hips side to side to grab her own cary on, a small matte black suitcase with her initials on the bottom left in a small size. 

Bucky followed her into the airport. He couldn’t seriously remember the last time he had been in an airport, maybe during his youth but right now everything seemed so different yet he didn’t feel scared. He looked to his right and there she was, holding his hand as the other pulled her trolley, dark sunglasses on to hide who she was but still sporting that smile that was truly hers, something he could pick out of a crowd. He never really liked the word or feeling of possession, neither did she, but they didn’t really mind the feeling that a ship’s rope held both their hands together in a nautical strong knot. It was that sort of feeling that disconnected them both from what surrounded them, the sound of echoed and at the same time murmured silence. Y/N didn’t mind, Bucky didn’t mind. The flashlights went by dim and the announcements went mute for both of them.

Y/N however did not like airports. For her, airports signified goodbyes, harmful and painful goodbyes those were you wave goodbye to your loved ones and walk into security checks with tears lodged in her throat, telling herself to put herself together as she approached the beginning of that line. It represented waving goodbye to her comforts to travel somewhere she was not happy, not that her life in the US after she left the UK didn’t made her happy, it did but it was a faux happiness. It was locked inside a bought apartment with people who didn’t or refused to understand her, with friends she loved and cared for but didn’t really check on her them too lost on their own lives, it was yearning for a love that took years to come and everyone told her it would come but never did. It was an odd feeling being at the airport but being with Bucky twisted that. It was no longer leaving loved ones, it was departing with them, it was leaving all the mess that haunted her behind yet she couldn’t help feeling like something lingered in the wind, some cut throating emotions and actions which would return to her. 

She decided not to dwell on it, smiling at Bucky as he picked some snacks to bring inside the plane besides her telling him they probably would have the peanut M&Ms rather than his beloved chocolate only ones. She watched him as someone watched something that reminded them of a childhood memory or something that touched them, with a tinge of sadness, almost knowing it would never happen again. She felt tied to him but she felt at any time this knot could worn out and she feared he would leave. Things fade, nothing lasts forever and she wondered when he would realise that he was dating a ticking time bomb controlled by others. She had control over her own heart but her face, her reputation, that would never be hers to control. 

     - Y/N? - he laid his hand on top of her shoulder. - Are you okay, princess?

     - Yeah, just thinking. - she handed the lady the tickets, holding Bucky’s hand as he led her inside the airplane.

Y/N was lucky to be used to first class, she spent in life in it but for Bucky it was a jarring new experience. His parents used to be well off, better than most however they were never well enough to afford flying anywhere. The closest he’d been to flying was in military helicopters but all his experience to commercial flying had been watching on magazines but even this looked so different. It looked like a perfect first class bedroom in a five star hotel with individual little places for each passenger and some for couples which he guessed was one for the two of them. As they approached their cabin, a polished dressed lady signalled them inside their own seats. She looked at Bucky who had star filled eyes as he noticed all the comfort of his seat.

    - Is this how you travel? - he sat down by the window, looking at the small bottles of water, juices and fun sized treats. - Now I know why you travel so much. It’s like a damn hotel room here. 

    - Peanut M&M’s. - she grabbed one of the snacks from his side. - I believe you’ll be donating those to me. 

    - That’s a travesty, princess. I cannot believe you prefer those with peanuts

    - Peanuts are great. 

    - Unless you’re allergic to them.

    - You’re not allergic to peanuts. Steve would’ve told me if you were and I saw you eat a peanut energy bar yesterday. - she crossed her arms. 

    - First, I hate peanuts so it’s almost as if I were allergic to them. Second, KIND bars don’t count, you know how good they are, they add that little caramel drizzle.

    - I guess we’re gonna have more than my nephews and nieces for a picky eater this Christmas. - she laughed, picking the remote to shuffle through whatever the company offered. Bucky leaned on her shoulder, leaving a kiss on it right before he did. - Thank you for coming with me. 

   - That’s not a problem, princess. Besides, who would guard you if I were not to come?

   - Is this overtime then, Mr. Barnes? - she looked down at him, his childish yet charming smile whenever he meant to tease her which he so easily could do both meanings of the word. - We should prepare for take off. 

It couldn’t be too different from take off in the quinjet. Bucky had done it once after the train incident but it always brought him back to it. He wasn’t like this and it pained him that the slightest of turbulences in any travels now made him feel like a kid. He didn’t use to be like this, he was fearless, going on the Cyclone time and time again and now ... now he was a shell of a man afraid of take off. He shouldn’t be afraid, it was not his role, right? He knew things were different then and were different now but he always wanted to be strong, strong for her as if any insecurity would throw her away. He knew it didn’t, Bucky knew Y/N was there to stick around and didn’t care about what the war and HYDRA had done to him but he cared. Bucky wanted to be her hero, her safe harbour and with this ... 

His mind shattered into snowflakes as she held his hand, the captain’s voice muffled as the plane gathered speech. Y/N never hand cold hands or a cold touch, she was just warm, a little ray of sunshine burning his icy exterior and forcing him to see the beauty of winter. Bucky clearly mostly got distracted by her own beauty but her holding his hand, the rings on her fingers which she had gathered from little shops along the street against his hand, made him want to remove the dagger he had stuck on himself so he could feel pain forevermore. 

The plane move upwards, both of them being pulled against their seats by the laws of physics on an endless climb and he still had his eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness. 

    - Buck. - her finger caressed his jaw. - Look out the window. 

Bucky peaked open one of his eyes, looking out the window near him to see a full blue sky, completely different from the dark skies of the winter filled New York they had just left.

   - We fly above the clouds. Isn’t it beautiful? - she leaned against his shoulder. 

   - You see this everytime?

   - Unless I’m flying at night, yeah. Sunsets and risings are particularly stunning. 

   - Now what?

   - Now we wait for round 6 to 7 hours. We can put a movie on, maybe. Whatever you’d like.

Bucky took to shuffling through the movie catalogue himself. Some of the movies he’d never heard about and some he’d heard from Sam or from Steve’s list of movies he had to watch yet he never did. Capitan America himself stuck to the old classics, the movies they used to sneak through the backdoor of the theatre. He himself liked the classics too and Y/N, as a film/acting major herself, also had a soft spot for them. Bucky’s favourite was the Wizard of Oz, despite later knowing how controversial filming had been, yet he couldn’t help but always remember the wonder on his sister’s face and his own wonder as he watched the vivid colours. He could still feel it now, however the movie ended and soon the food came in and he found himself bored. There wasn’t much he could do on a plane and he found himself jealous of the 5 year old running up and down the cabin, despite most of Y/N’s laughter. 

He covered himself in the company’s blanket and snuggled against the pillow and still he couldn’t sleep. Y/N on the other hand had fallen asleep the moment she pulled the leg rest, wrapped around in her blanket, face facing his which gave Bucky the excuse to look at her while she slept. Bucky always found it wildly amusing how she slept, lips slightly puckered, eyes fluttering until she fell in deep and hands fisting the blanket up to her chin. Eventually, Bucky got frustrated, moving around in his seat to find a comfortable position. How come he couldn’t find a comfortable position on a first class seat?

    - Buck ... - she groaned, opening her eyes. - Stop moving around. 

    - I’m sorry, princess. I’m just ... so bored. How do you do this?

    - I sleep. - she placed the blanket on her lap. - Why don’t you get something else to eat?

    - How many hours left?

    - You don’t wanna know. - she rubbed the sleep of her eyes, Bucky still laid against his seat, blanket on his lap, head against the head rest. Y/N started thinking about how to entertain him until her gaze fell onto his lap. Looking around the cabin was quiet, no cabin crew or passengers on their feet, just a calm cabin. 

She moved closer to him, head against her shoulder, facade of a glistening angel on a renaissance painting. Her fingers traced the soft finish of his blanket, the embodied company name until her fingers were under the soft fabric. She slide her hand under his shirt, feeling his warm skin as her hand travelled downwards towards the Hugo Boss boxers he wore, fingers hooking on the waistband. Bucky swallowed dry, wondering if he had finally gone to sleep and this was finally a good dream or if his sweet, innocent girlfriend was actually about to do what his mind was rushing to as her fingers wrapped around his softened member. He grunted, looking at her like she was a fever dream, hips mindlessly thrusting into her soft warm hand. He would say there was no better feeling, had it not been for the fact he had been inside of her. 

Y/N bite her lip, insecurely swiping her thumb over the tip, his pre cum dripping onto it. She didn’t know what she was doing, mostly going by the erotica she had read and seen before, guiding herself by his low sounds, mumbled by his own hand which laid against his own mouth. She looked up at him, cerulean eyes looking at the ceiling as if all his strength would break loose were he to look at her and she thought that was the most gorgeous he’d look. She straight herself up, pushing his hand away from his mouth to start kissing him, something which would look rather innocent to anyone who passed by. Her kiss was warm, hot and sinful, much more different than the shy ones she would lay on him each morning yet he guessed it matched with her movements, fast and tighter against his cock. He tried to remain still, allow her to do what she wanted to do but his body had a different idea, hips thrusting and gyrating against her hand like some idiot teenager as her mouth lowered to kiss his pulse point. His breathe quickened, coming into staccatto as her movement quickened. The environment was blurry and all he could think about and hear were her movements and his body shuddering until he was spurting thick ropes of white liquid onto her hand and his breathe came out knocked as if he had finished a race. 

She cleaned her palm with a tissue, bringing her fingers up to her cherry tinted lips from her chapstick, disappearing within the plumpness of them. He swore he could cum again just from that sight. As he tried to regain his breathe from the latter event, she gave him a shy smile, pushing her blanket up to her chin. Whatever she did to him, whatever release she had given him had made him comfortable enough on that cloud nine that sent him into sleeping, only awaking once the plane wheels hit British soil. 

It was dark, around 9PM the captain had said and Bucky himself thought the trip was over until both of them disembarked onto the airport which was a completely different world. Had it not been by Y/N’s unwillingness to spend more time in an airport, he would’ve possibly stood behind taking pictures yet once she spotted a man with a sheet with her name written in, she had his hand on hers and dragged him up to it.

Bucky had been in London, he remembered it from the war and some buildings were the same yet everything was brighter. His eyes shone against the decorations, wondering how bigger they could get and Y/N took great pleasure in seeing him so happy. All she wanted was to make him happy, all she wanted was to see him happy. The taxi driver stopped in front of her childhood home which gladly always seemed to look the same with christmas lights and garlands. Both of them step out the car and the nerves finally hit Bucky. How do you meet someone’s parents? How do you meet the person who just gave you a handjob’s parents and make a good impression? How could he make a good impression? He was a hundred year old never aging man with a metal arm dating the little rose that everyone put on an altar. He didn’t belong. Maybe he could stop her, maybe he could convince her not to ring the bell except she was already ringing the bell and the door was opening up.

A short woman in a white jumper and jeans opened the door. She had Y/N’s eyes, the same eyes Bucky would recognise anywhere and based by the tight hug she gave Y/N, he would guess she was his mother.

   - Mum, this is Bucky. - she held Bucky’s hand. What should he do? Should he wave?

   - Oh my, you’re tall. I thought that with a nickname like that you’d be small. Oh, here I am again rambling. We are so happy here, you know, you’re the first man Y/N brings home.

   - Mum!

   - What? It’s true. You’re my oldest child and only now have you brought a man. Aunt Petunia is really proud of you.

   - Mum!

   - Come in, Bucky. Can I call you Bucky? Come meet the family.

taglist: @disasterbii​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @buckyandsebastian​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34​ @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[obscureoperations]

Could I possibly request Martin and cuddling scenarios? Or Martin working at Cuba’s shop and his S.O stops by to hang for a bit and maybe even flirts with him, leaving him a bit flustered as his S.O leaves?

Btw I love your writing it’s great! :)

Nice!  And thank you so much! I’m really glad that you like it! 🥰. 

 I decided to go with visiting him at Cuda's shop bc I literally think about this every other day 😂 I really wanted to do a cuddling hc, but I might just end up doing that anyways. I sorta combined the two. Martin's having a rough time at work, by the time his s.o arrives, they decide he deserves some affection. Sfw

For the most part, Martin busied himself in the backroom--preferring to stay out of Cuda’s hair. It was Thursday, and he would have the next day off. He just wanted the rest of the afternoon to go by smoothly. Apparently, that was too much to ask, seconds later, Cuda barged into the stock room.

“Martin! Do you think I pay you to hide from the customers and lurk in the back room? Get back onto the sales floor!” He huffs.

The door slams sending chips of drywall to the ground, right as Martin exhales slowly. From the sound of it, the store was pretty busy. It was almost lunch hour and he could hear the bell on the front door sound every other minute. He felt off… he really didn’t feel like being surrounded by people, but from the looks of it, he really didn't have a choice. He just hoped he would manage to avoid any unsavory customers.

He places the broom he was holding back in the corner of the room-- smoothing his shirt down further into his pants. He brushes some of the bangs from his eyes as he takes a deep breath-- preparing to step out into a literal war zone.

Much to his relief, the majority of the customers congregated to the deli… that would keep Cuda busy for a bit. The old man continued to laugh and chat up some of the regulars. If he didn’t know him.. He might believe he was actually “pleasant” . People never really say what they mean-- they were so used to putting on airs. So eager to project this false image onto the world for some type of monetary gain. He busies himself at the check out, refilling the bags-- checking the receipt tape. All while his eyes remain fixed on the door. It was almost time for his ‘’break’’ which would most likely be delayed. You never really seemed to mind-- one time you waited around for him for nearly an hour.

He ties his best to calm his nerves, breathing deeply as he carefully scans each of the items. Placing them into bags with a quiet Thank you for shopping Much to his relief, most of the customers were actually nice. One older woman called him a “Handsome young man, and urged him to not look so down.” He thanked her and assured her he was fine. He really just got that way sometimes, especially when it came to crowds. He tries his best to drown out all the noise, placing intention in each of his actions. His hands would tremble every now and then, his palms were clammy, he began to dig his teeth into the side of his tongue.

The bell sounds, but he forgets to look up-- instead fiddling one of the dials on the register. He wanted to glance at the time, but knowing his luck, nothing more than a measly five minutes had passed. A familiar voice startles him out of his reprieve. “ Excuse me sir, do you have a restroom?” A wave of pins and needles, the jolt of excitement nearly sends him into shock. He has to fight not to leap from behind the counter. When he glances up, you can see the look of pure relief wash over his face. Your poor darling. You had better not find out Cuda had been harassing him once again.

He nods his head before he finds his voice, which still cracks from the momentary lack of use “ Yes.. I can show you.” He casts a brief glance over towards the deli before he turns to the only other worker in the shop. No more than sixteen and even quieter than Martin. “Hey.. cover the register for a moment please.. I have to get something for a customer.”

The kid doesn’t say a word as he shuffles over to the counter.

“Thank you…” Martin offers briefly.

Excitement pools at the pit of his stomach as he leads you down the short dimly lit hall. He could smell something delightful coming from one of your bags. You took to bringing him something different for lunch everyday.

“Down here--” He starts before you immediately wrap your arms around him. Peppering his face with kisses. “Hey.. I--” You silence him, by bringing your lips to his, you lean in nearly bending him backwards. His head was swimming, sometimes you seemed even happier than he was whenever you came to visit. He manages to pry you away for just a second, despite your sigh of disappointment. He just had to make sure the coast was still clear, before he led you a little further down the hall. There was a small divy around the corner, right before you get to the restrooms, it was just big enough to conceal the two of you. He takes the opportunity to rest his head against the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around him securely.

The two of you remain there just for a moment in complete silence as you wait for his heartbeat to slow. You could sense his anxiousness as soon as you entered the room… the boy seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. He shifts after a while nuzzling in close to your neck, his warm breath curls at your skin. You take the opportunity to weave your fingers through his hair in a calming action, Martin practically melts against you. It wasn’t rare that he’d fall asleep with his head in your lap, all the while you continue to toy with his hair.

“How are you darling?” You ask after a while, you can feel him shrug in your arms. “ Better..now..” He mumbles.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“Do you think you’ll be free to take a lunch soon?”

“I think so… he can’t delay it for over an hour.”

“Good!”

He asks you what you happened to bring, but you continue to prompt him to guess…

You’d kiss him sweetly after every failed guess, he finally rolls his eyes, in feigned impatience.

“Fine… If you’re not going to tell me…” He pouts

“Oh my god…”you sigh… “Let's just say it’s from your favorite sandwich shop...okay. I didn’t go with my first choice, but...I figured you might need a little pick me up.”

He raises his eyebrows “ Oh.. what was your first choice?”

You shouldn’t do it.. Even after lunch he would have three more hours. That would be entirely too cruel. With a sigh you lean in close, whispering into his ear. You could actually feel his face heat up. He gasps almost inaudibly right as you lean back, placing one of the bags in his hand.

“Hang onto this… I’ll be outside when you’re ready… we can sneak up to the fire escape if you’d like..”

[whumpinggrounds]

Gotcha Day

my first non-Febuwhump piece of writing! here goes :) this is set before the last day of Febuwhump (You Have To Let Me Go) and i mean i really don’t need to explain much i don’t think bc it’s fairly self-explanatory but i am nervous so. yes

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist ! lmk if you want to be added/removed from being tagged it is a lot a lot of content so sorry about that

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, memory loss, discussion of scars, past burns, implied non con,

Director Hammond’s office is much like the Director herself – alternately welcoming and terrifying, depending on what mood has struck her. Today, the curtains are open, the room is filled with light, and the Director has a bouquet of flowers on her desk in a vase. That’s good, right? All of that is good.

Mara still feels the nerves in her stomach buzzing like a hive.

“I don’t want to drag this out,” the Director begins, and Mara’s heart sinks. It’s some polite dismissal, something like that. There’s a self-satisfied little smile playing around the woman’s lips, and Mara tries to brace herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap and staring down her doom with icy eyes. “We have decided to let you train her. 067493.”

Stunned, Mara stares at the Director. There are no words in her mouth, no words in her head. She wants to speak, knows she should speak, but she can’t. An incredulous smile starts to curl up her face.

“Now, before you get too excited, there are some conditions.” Despite her lecturing tone, there’s a smile on the Director’s face – probably because of Mara’s huge ferocious grin. “She’s not your pet, technically speaking, not until the trial period is over. Obviously, she’s coming with what we call a factory defect, so you got very lucky there, otherwise we’d never let her go. She’s not fully trained, but honestly, Ms. Langford, we’re not going to spend the money and time to finish out the training on a model that we’re essentially giving away.”

“Yes.” Mara’s head is nodding on her neck like a bobblehead. “Yes, okay, that’s fine. That’s okay. That’s so okay.”

Amused by her eagerness, the Director nods. “Good. Now, primarily, Ms. Langford, we want to explore two things with 067493, and we feel that gifting her to an employee, while highly unusual, will give us an opportunity to answer some outstanding questions.”

“Okay.” Mara’s heart is racing. God, she feels like she’s going to pass out any second. “Okay, so, so, um, what are those questions, then? The things…what it is you want to, um, explore?”

The Director smiles at her, fondly, warmly. “First of all…” she pauses for effect, “some of the higher-ups loved this therapeutic aid idea. If it’s workable, there could be a strong market there. Of course, we’ve been trying to work a caregiver angle for a while, but the medical stuff is often just too complex for pets. This emotional approach could give us a very similar sector, but with none of the concern about pets operating medical machinery incorrectly.”

“Y-yes.” Mara’s breathless, dazed, struggling just to keep up. “Yes, definitely-”

“Now, not everyone is convinced, but enough of us think that it’s worth a try. Which brings us to our second objective.”

Here, the Director pauses long enough that Mara can stop focusing on her breathing and look up inquisitively. Finally, tentatively, she prompts her superior. “Ma’am?”

The Director shakes her head as if to clear it. “Yes, well. What we are interested in is…is…” she purses her lips, clearly wondering how to explain. “Pets who may end up living with someone they know or recognize from their former life. As you know, pets are prone to false memories.” Mara nods dutifully, despite knowing full well there’s no such thing. “We want to see if our Boxies can be taught and trained in such a way that they can be…reintroduced to their old life, or one like it, while maintaining good behavior and accurate memory blocks.”

“That sounds…” Mara swallows. “That sounds…difficult.”

“Indeed.” For the first time, the Director looks grim. “Of course, that’s exactly what you’re attempting with 493, and if you could pull it off…we’ve had some interest. People who want to…serve their loved ones in a more straightforward and simplified fashion.” For just a moment, Mara tunes out, thinking with a sort of horrified fascination on the kind of environment that would lead to someone wanting to erase themselves while staying where they were.

Or, even worse, Mara pictures someone coming in asking for a loved one to be erased, returned sweet and pliable and empty. She barely represses a shudder. Ignorant of Mara’s internal monologue, the Director forges on.

“We are proposing that you take 067493 home as your Domestic. You will be responsible for making her into a…a prototype, essentially, for this therapeutic aid program. You will also be expected to report any aberrant behaviors that could conceivably result from…ah, memory confusion.”

“I can do that.” That all sounds absurd, and difficult, and unfair, but Mara doesn’t care right now. All she cares about is getting Jude and taking her home and, and having her. Having her back.

“We’re going to allow you an adjustment period, and then we’re going to ask that you bring 067493 in for regular checkups, where we’ll be looking for signs of this memory confusion, as well as updates on your progress.”

“That…yes, that sounds very doable.”

Once again, the Director smiles fondly across the desk at her, and Mara has a funny, frightening feeling that she’s become Barbara Hammond’s newest little pet project. “I believe that it is, Ms. Langford. Despite the cosmetic defaults, she seems like a sweet thing. I can’t wait to see what you do with her.”

___

When Handler Collins leads Jude out, Mara’s heart about stops in her chest. There she is. There’s Jude. There’s…Jude, and not Jude.

A pair of black shorts, a WRU white t-shirt over skin that’s much paler than last time Mara saw it. Her stocky frame diminished, all her old rugby muscle losing or lost. She looks like...Mara hates the cliche, but she looks like a ghost of her former self, literally. Skinnier, paler, a whole lot more haunted. Her hair, her hands, the freckles and the way she walks just a little pigeon-toed – that’s Jude, that’s Jude all the way. The flat, false calm in her face and the fear in her eyes…that’s someone else. Swallowing, Mara clasps her hands together in front of her, trying to quell the urge to reach for her girl.

“Here she is!” Handler Collins throws his hands out grandly from his place beside the boxgirl. “All yours.”

“Wow,” Mara manages. “Uh…wow.”

Collins shakes his head. “Wow is right. But, hey, wait – you want to check the damage?” He’s still grinning, like it’s no big deal, like it’s all a joke. Mara sucks in a deep breath. The-the Box Babe in front of her is wearing a t-shirt, but Mara can see her cracked reddened palms and wonders what the thin cotton over her chest is hiding.

“I…I guess, yeah. I mean, I’m taking her either way,” she mutters, trying for a joke. Collins is more than happy to laugh at her.

“Shirt off, 493.”

Hesitantly, the trainee obeys, darting a wide-eyed glance at Mara as she does. The cotton goes over her head and oh.

Oh. There, on the right side of the girl’s chest, is the burn, red and angry and raised, covered in blisters. The scarring is worst on her collarbone, but the pink, stretched, destroyed skin crosses her neck below the line of her collar in one direction, creeps toward her armpit in the other. Mara’s horror must show on her face, because the girl flushes, looks down.

“That’s um. That’s pretty bad.”

Handler Collins shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me. Fucking Underwood. Fuck.” He spits on the ground near the trainee’s bare feet. “She’s finished the antibiotics she’s supposed to be taking. The vet thinks she should be set. Just uh, she’s got this stuff she’s supposed to spread on it.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Mara can’t stop staring at the burn, at the way it glares out, crimson and furious, from Jude’s pale, freckled skin. With effort, she tears her eyes away, to the downturned head of the waiting boxgirl. “Put…uh, put your shirt back on.”

The girl obliges quickly, and, Mara imagines, gratefully. She’s too well-trained to even wince when her movements stretch and ripple her healing skin. Mara’s eyes move hungrily over her face, her skinny body, searching for the parts of Jude she recognizes. The girl keeps her eyes on the ground but her cheeks go pink under the scrutiny.

“Doc, I gotta say.” Collins is shaking his head, and reluctantly, Mara turns her attention to him. “I don’t know how you got this one past the Director. I mean – a Box Babe for free? After what, ten months of working here?”

“Fourteen,” Mara corrects, a little too quietly. She clears her throat and tries again. “Over a year, Handler Collins.”

Rolling his eyes, Collins dismisses her with a flap of his hand. “A couple months, a year, whatever. A matter of months and you’ve got yourself a bonus worth tens of thousands? You must’ve shrunk the Director’s head to get her to agree to this one.”

Mara manages a tight smile for him. “I’m definitely…I definitely feel lucky.”

Leaning in, eyes gleaming conspiratorially, Collins puts his mouth near Mara’s ear. “You have good reason to feel lucky, Doc. Me and the guys – well, you’ve given some good advice, these past few months. It’s helped. And business is up. Company’s talking about padding the paychecks a little, and you’re a part of that, you know?” He gives her a hearty slap on the back and Mara forces a smile. “You’re part of the team! And the pet’s a gift from the company, but we thought, hey, why not a little something from us handlers, for our good doc?”

A shiver runs down Mara’s spine. “What…” she wets her lips, tries to sound amused, curious. “What did you do?”

“We only had a week or so to do it. Director Hammond decided so late, and all. But, but look, we crammed in some Romantic training, just for you.” Collins’ leer is too much. “None of the positions, of course, that shit’s extra, but a few of the lines, a few, ah…habits you might like.”

Mara thinks about him touching Jude and wants to tear the grin right off his face, wants to snarl and scratch and chew him out right there. Instead, she finds the girl’s eyes, searches there for some help, some hope, some recognition. Anything.

Her new Box Babe looks back at her with eyes that are flat and dull and empty.

[probably-writing-x]

Innocence never looked so good

Valerio x Reader

Request by anon : I love your writings🧡🧡they’re what keeps me busy during this sucky time. If you’re still taking asks, I was wondering if you could write about Valerio and him meeting a new transfer scholarship student. At first he’s not really interested bc she’s pretty innocent but then he ends up falling for her. Kind of like Guzman and Nadia I guess. I mean you could honestly write it anyway you want and if love it 🥺 this was just ask. If not it’s understandable :))

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“So is this how it works here?” It was a boy from the back of the class that spoke up, “You just dish out scholarships left right and centre?”

He was a tall, slim boy with wild dark curls being his typically distinctive feature. You were more drawn to the sharp structure of his face and how he seemed so nonchalant about his extroverted personality. He was leaning back in the chair with his legs on top of the desk and his arms stretched out like he was opening himself to the world.

“Valerio, not now,” The teacher rolls his eyes, “(Y/n) is just as deserving of her place here as any of you are. I expect you to make her welcome as you would do with any paying student, understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and blink a couple of times at the intimidating crowd in front of you. You weren’t the most confident at the best of times so starting a new school was already an experience you feared - let alone when that school was filled to the brim with rich kids that you’d never fit in with.

The only spare seat in the class happened to be beside this Valerio so you walk your way over and stand awkwardly beside his desk.

“Can I sit here?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself to remain calm, “Please?”

He lets a smirk dance across his lips as he trails his eyes up and down your form, tapping his pen on the table with one hand, “Okay, (Y/n).”

Valerio swings his legs down and shuffles in his chair to make room for you beside him. You set your bag down beside you and pull out the books that you needed for the lesson, along with your pencil case.

“Fuck,” Valerio says a little too loudly, “She really is a nerd.”

You blush furiously at his comment but keep your head down nonetheless, scribbling down the date and the title of the lesson.

“Valerio!” The teacher warns, “Do I need to tell you again that your father’s money can easily be replaced?”

He rolls his eyes as a stunning girl from a few rows in front turns around and glares at him - an evident warning behind her perfected eyes.

Valerio ignores you for the rest of the lesson, spending half of his time staring out of the window and the other half trying to see how far he could rock back on his chair.

- - - - - -

You’re sat next to Valerio in that class every single day and every day is the same. You wait for him to move his feet from the table, you sit down and get on with the work and he finds any way possible of avoiding the work. It continues like that again and again every single day.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” He comments as you sit down on one random Monday morning.

You’d managed to make a few friends at Las Encinas - the other scholarship students really. But you tried your best to remain under the radar.

“I don’t ever really think about it,” You shrug, tucking a stray lock behind your ear as you scribble down the date.

“It’s nice.”

It’s weird to hear Valerio say anything remotely close to a compliment, even if it was something minor. But you find yourself looking at him with a little frown.

“You don’t think I have it in me to be polite?” He cocks a brow, “I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman, (Y/n).”

“If you say so,” You shrug and it’s like the tiniest spark of fire he’s ever seen from you. It takes him aback a little even if it shouldn’t. You were always so passive, and yet you’d had that tiniest fraction of sass in your words then that threw him just a little off balance.

He watches you a little bit more that day, wanting to know the person behind who you were when you sat beside him.

- - - - - -

The next morning, Valerio is still in his normal position in the chair as you come in but there’s a rose left on your side of the table.

“What’s this?” You question, picking it up to make space for your books.

He shrugs and shifts his legs, as usual, “I have no idea.”

“Well, you must’ve seen who put it down,” You comment, turning it over in your hands, “Who was it?”

“Can’t have been me,” He pushes himself off from the table using his firmly planted hands so that he rocks back on his chair, “I’m not romantic enough.”

- - - - - -

There continue to be little moments like that. A week later, he left a book on the table that he claimed was a brilliant read under his own recommendation. Next, it was a new notepad from when he saw you were coming to the end of yours. Sometimes, it would just be a note where he’d scribbled a poem quote that he liked. And, oddly, you found yourself looking forward to each day where you may or may not find a little gesture given from the extroverted boy that sat beside you. He didn’t show any interest in you outside of those moments, ignoring you in every other class, never acknowledging you in the hallways - but that one class every morning was his slight moment with you where he did show that side.

It’s a number of weeks later and things had started to deteriorate for you yet again at home. Your parents were what you’d call ‘missing in action’ - where they reprised their regular roles of being shitty parents by abandoning you with no knowledge of when they’d return. Normally, it would be for a cheap holiday they’d booked and not told you about, or because their drug-fuelled minds had considered it a brilliant idea to head off to somewhere unknown. Whatever it was, it always circled back eventually. And you’d be left alone yet again.

This time, it had meant that you’d barely been sleeping. So you’d decided to show up to school early and you found yourself sitting in the class before anybody else had even arrived.

When Valerio walks in, he stops in his tracks.

“The introvert, the woman of routine, breaking the cycle?” He gasps, sauntering over to you with all levels of confidence as he always managed to hold.

You must’ve looked an absolute state. Your hair was pulled into a bun, your eyes darkened by the purple circles that carried their weight, your clothes weren’t as neat as you tried to keep them and every part of you felt a little detached from your normal self.

Valerio strolls around your chair and flops down into the one next to you, “What caused the change, (Y/n)?”

When you don’t respond to him with a polite or sassy response, and he’s instead met with silence, he frowns and leans toward you in his chair.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet and cautious like he was saying it with genuine care.

You run your hands over your hair to smooth it somewhat and look at him with the most forced smile you had the energy to give, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

With that, you go about all the parts of your normal routine. Pen out, books open, date in the top right hand corner. But there’s something about the shaky breath that you release and the way that your eyes seem just on the verge of pouring that makes Valerio struggle to ever take his eyes off of you. He’d never felt so serious in one of these classes. And it wasn’t an important topic or a test he should be trying to pass. It was because this girl beside him had a lot more than her passive exterior showed - and he couldn’t imagine just how much she’d had bottled up inside this whole time.

- - - - - -

The next morning, and the next and the next, you’re sat in that class before him again. There was something about being at school that made you not feel so alone so you’d been making the most of the hours you could spend here. Valerio expresses concern every morning by asking if you were okay and you even start to notice him steal glances in your direction every time you were in his class or you passed him at school.

This one morning, he comes in to find you practically half-asleep at the desk. You don’t pay attention to when he sits down and your books are already open but they’re empty and lifeless on the desk.

“No date this morning?” He nudges you, noticing how your appearance had changed day by day. Deteriorating little by little.

He’d even noticed how your lips seemed a little bit more chapped and your hands seemed drier and less youthful.

You flinch from your daze and try to shake it off, “Yeah, right. Um, what are we doing today?”

And it’s odd how much his heart drops at the question. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the girl he’d grown so used to seeing every single morning in the same light. That light had dimmed. And he felt it within him that he couldn’t possibly let that light dim any more without at least an attempt at reigniting it again.

- - - - - -

When you come into school early the next morning, it startles you to turn on the light and not be alone in the class. Valerio sat at the desk with his feet up on the table and a proud smirk on his face.

“I beat you,” He comments, “Eventually.”

You wish you had the energy to respond with something witty, but it had been near enough ten days without your parents now - ten days of being alone in the flat without heating in the middle of winter, with the broken fridge and the oven that never heated up properly.

“Hey, we have a test coming up next week,” Valerio comments, “Do you mind helping me study?”

“A test?” You frown, having no recollection of anything being mentioned, “Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

It pains him. You were clearly going through something that went beyond the realm of school drama. And yet you’d still agreed to help him with no real reason to accept his request. You could’ve easily said no. You had no obligation to help the boy who was yet to put in an ounce of effort to any day at this place. But he knew that no part of your good heart would have it in you to say no when he’d asked for help.

“Great,” He grins, “Shall we say your place tonight?”

“I-“ You stop yourself, “Could we not go somewhere else?”

“Lu will be at mine, school will be closed, and it’s too cold to go anywhere outside,” He explains, “I’ll meet you there for six.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways.”

Those ways consisted of his actions this morning whilst he was waiting for you to make your early entrance to school. He’d broken into the filing cabinet of the school office until he found the file that belonged to you, not looking any further than at the address in the top right hand corner - he’d hope that your meeting with him tonight would tell him the rest of the information that the file couldn’t.

- - - -

At just past six, there’s a repeated buzzing to try to get into your flat and you let Valerio up cautiously. This all seemed very weird. Why had he bothered? He was Lu’s brother - if he needed help with studying why wouldn’t he go to her.

He comes into your flat, still dressed in his school uniform as he smiles widely at you, “So this is your humble abode.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m guessing you didn’t expect much from the scholarship student.”

“It’s nice,” He pokes his head around every corner, “It’s quaint. Are your parents out?”

You scoff before you can stop yourself, “You could say that.”

He looks at you like he had a million more questions to ask but you interject before he can continue. He sits down at one of the seats on your dining table.

“So, I haven’t really prepared much for studying, I figured we could just go through the content and then see which bits you struggle with the most-“

“(Y/n), are you okay?” He cuts in, showing more compassion in that one question than you’d heard from anyone for a long time.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “I told you I’m fine. Can we please just get on with studying?”

“It’s me, of course I didn’t come here to study,” He rolls his eyes, “You can talk to me, you know?”

“Why would I do that? So you can go and tell the rest of them that the new scholarship kid actually has a kind of shitty life at the minute?” Your anger bubbles and you’re not really sure what causes it, “I’m not one of you guys and I know that.”

“Is that really what you think of me? You think I’ve come here to humiliate you,” The look of realisation on his face makes you instantly beyond guilty.

“How could I not expect that?” You sigh, “You said it yourself on my first day.”

“Things have changed since then, (Y/n).”

“Have they? Because you’re nice to me every single morning for an hour, and then the rest of the day consists of you acting like I don’t exist - I see it Valerio, I’m not an idiot,” You shake your head, “Why would I assume that much has changed?”

“Because I care about you (Y/n),” He sits upright and you can tell he cares about what he’s about to say, “I see you every morning and it’s like I’ve seen you go through this whole change since the start of the year. You became more confident and you came out of your shell, and then it all seemed to drop recently. I made up the fact that we had a test and I went into school when it was still dark so I could find your address, and then I walked myself here just so I could come and see you outside of that stupid desk at the back of the class.”

You stay silent. That was true. You couldn’t take for granted the fact that Valerio had been nice to you recently, and conscious of how much you seemed to deteriorate. You watch as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“What’s this then? Valerio’s got feelings for the scholarship kid? I don’t think Lu will be impressed.”

You watch his lips curl into a smile and how his teeth flash bright against his dark curls, “I think she’d be surprised about me having feelings for anyone.”

And just like that, it’s probably the most genuine smile youve had in weeks.

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

Oh now that, that one isn't Actually a wip. It's a short story I finished ages ago that later ended up being inspiration for one of the plotlines in an anthology style audio drama podcast I want to make some day. There's 4 main characters:

The Mckellen sisters Jamie and Lady who aren't Actually sisters but pass rather well for twins since one of them is actually a changeling, Natalie Anderson, photographer and lady's GF, and Gavin Walker, a mage still haunted by the death of his fiance, Caleb Adams, mostly due to the fact that his fucking ghost won't leave him alone.

Art by @unded-bun (click image for higher quality)

I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I'd be happy to fill in the gaps if anyone asks.

I'll Also throw the story itself under a read more here, bc I'm still super proud of it even though it's a few years old now.

A small hotel on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia. There is a Sonic Drive-in across the busy street. Bright neon lights in the window state, “Open 24/7!” A Greyhound bus is idling in the parking lot. A man, Gavin Walker, climbs off and crosses over to the hotel. He walks easily, but not confidently. Approaching the hotel’s entrance, he spots a cat eating from a plastic bowl in front of the door. The feline is small, and feral. He is black, with white paws. He does not pay Gavin any mind as he enters, only continuing to crunch on dry cat food.

There's a desk on the left side of the lobby. The receptionist smiles kindly as he checks in. Her eyes are tired. Gavin gives her a knowing nod, and travels deeper into the building. There is a sign marked, “Out Of Order.” on the elevator. This is a good thing. Gavin takes the stairs, of which there are three flights. This is also a good thing, because three is a good number. He enters the hallway, which is old, and worn. The walls bear chipped yellow paint, and the floor, faded red carpet. Gavin continues down the hall after checking the time on his phone. It is exactly 11:59PM. He turns the device off and begins to count the seconds. At sixty he has stopped in front of the elevator. The fluorescent light above him flickers. The elevator does not have an out of order sign on it. It is the same elevator as before. Gavin enters.

He presses the button for the first floor. In the lobby the check in desk is now on the opposite side of the room. The lights are off, the receptionist is gone. It is daytime outside now. The bus is gone and the Sonic is closed. The road is vacant. There is a cat outside. She is white, with black paws. She looks up at Gavin as he approaches. They lock eyes, and he kneels in front of her.

“Hello, cat.” He says.

“Hello, Mage.” Says the cat.

She flicks her tail, “What is it you seek?”

“Direction.”

She nods and stands, before making for the road. The Sonic across the street is closed, but it was never empty. A Sonic is not a sit down restaurant. Customers are expected to pull into a parking spot and order over an intercom, and then a waitress delivers their meal directly to their car. Gavin’s pretty sure places like Sonic were more common in the 1950’s, and he knows that drive in diners are a dying breed now a days. The thought gives him a strange sense of nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced, and he shudders involuntarily.

The cat sits down in the parking spot furthest from the building. She watches as he presses the the button on the intercom, listens, ears swiveling, as they are greeted with static. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see something moving within the darkened restaurant. An outline of a figure, only vaguely humanoid. The thing moves like a deranged ape, long, long arms dangling to the floor and dragging it forward. Its back is hunched, legs short and stumpy. Gavin can not see its face, and he does not wish to. The intercom crackles to life.

“WhAt can aH’ do fER ya’lL?” Drawls The Thing in the Sonic. It’s got a southern accent thicker than congeling visera, and the pitch of it’s voice fluctuates wildly. Gavin glances uncertainly at the cat, and she nods.

“I’m looking for Direction.”

“Ahhhhhh……” groans The Thing, “WEll, watch’ Yer goNna wanna dO is hEad doWn the road, bout maybeEEee…..foUr, five miLeS, an’ yer gOnna wanna look fer’ weEl, watch yer gonna wanna fiNd is soMeTHing’ idEaliZed, ya knOw? Like uh, somethin’ kinDa romanticized, an’ a liTtlE faKe in sOme senSe but reAlLy true in anOther, ya follow?”

“Yeah.” said Gavin, even though he did not follow at all.

“Yep,” Continued The Thing, “n’ yer gOnna wanna gEt yourself sOme rasPberRy lemONade when ya get theRe, It’s some gOod shit, lemme tell ya.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”

“Good, GoOd, That’s Good. Y'all have a niIiiccceee daaaaaay nooooow.” And then the intercom crackled once more, and returned to spewing static. Gavin released the button and looked around for the cat, hoping, maybe, for some more guidance, but she had long since abandoned him. He started walking down the road, away from the Sonic Drive-In, and The Thing inside, and hopefully towards where he needed to be.

Gavin started to think as he walked, which was not something he liked to do often. He much prefered to act in the moment without much consideration for the consequences of those actions until they themselves became the moment. Gavin did not like to think because he often thought much too deeply, and it sometimes scared him. Gavin thought about a lot of different things in quick succession, he thought about the missing greyhound bus, and The Thing in the Sonic, and wondered if the disappearance of one had to do anything with the appearance of the other. It probably did. He thought about what The Thing had told him to do, and why he was doing it. He thought about why he’d come here in the first place, to this inverted little section of Georgia. And he thought about Liminal Spaces, about busted elevators and darkened hotel hallways and empty stairwells. The air shifted suddenly as a pickup truck speed past him, it had a faded confederate flag on the back window.

Liminal Spaces, simply put, were the areas between one place and another. The small spots in the middle of point A and point B where reality seems to be altered in such a way that the change is almost imperceptible, and yet, it is still enough to leave you feeling so impossibly strange.

Liminal Spaces can also be doorways, if one knows how to properly open them.

Gavin isn’t sure how long he’s been walking down this empty stretch of road, but it’s been long enough that he can no longer see the Sonic Drive-in behind him. It’s not even a dot in the distance now, just gone, as though it were never there to begin with. He keeps going. He walks until his feet hurt, and his legs ache, and keeps going even after that. At some point he sticks his thumb out towards the road, tired enough to risk hitch-hiking, but no cars have gone by since the pickup truck. And at some point he takes a moment to rest. He sits down on the shoulder, and just breathes for a while. And then when he stands again, he sees the Cracker Barrel just down the road. Exhausted as he is, he knows it isn’t possible for him to not have seen it earlier. Gavin decides it’s best not to dwell on that, though, because this is exactly the kind of place where Cracker Barrels can just pop into existence. (Although, as he enters the restaurant, he remains somewhat annoyed that it couldn’t have decided to do it a little sooner.)

The front of the Cracker Barrel is a store selling all manner of things. There's a back corner full of vintage candy, a small section of organic make-ups, and another full of knick-knacks like salt and pepper shakers, and dreamcatchers, as well as the usual crap that tourists like to buy, T-shirts and mugs and what not. Gavin has never actually been in a “regular” Cracker Barrel, so he’s not sure if this is a completely normal thing, but he’s certain that a “regular” Cracker Barrel would not also be selling such wares as bottled crocodile tears and Unicorn meat slim jims. There aren’t a lot of people in the store, and yet Gavin finds it impossible to get a good look at any of them. The people look normal, but they move like extras in the background of a film. The only person in the room with any notable features is the waitress standing by the back. She’s short, and her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a vibrant blue. As Gavin follows her into the seating area he can't help but stare at her hair, and he finds himself thinking that it can’t possibly be dye, it’s too bright, somehow. She smiles at him as he sits, and her teeth are a just little too sharp.

Once he’s seated, she says, “Can I start you off with a drink?” Her voice has a pleasant, lilting tone to it.

Gavin thinks back to The Thing in the Sonic, “A Raspberry Lemonade? If that’s something you have here?”

She nods, and goes off to get him one. Gavin leans back in his chair and takes in his surroundings, trying to relax. The decor in the Cracker Barrel has a sort of vintage, rustic feel to it, there’s things like black and white photos, and old advertisements on the walls. All the furniture looks antique. There are quite a few other customers present. Most of them look like the same nondescript folk from the front, but a few stand out. There’s a woman in the back corner, she’s dressed in black furs and her head is an ember eyed wolf skull. She’s sitting across from a man with the skull of a stag upon his shoulders, the antlers adorned with ivy. There’s something resembling a giant moth sitting two tables away, slowly crunching its way through a Caesar salad. Occasionally, there’s a figure leaning against the kitchen doors, they look as though they’re made up of television static. Gavin’s eyes start to hurt from trying to look at them, so he turns his attention to the menu instead. The waitress returns with his Raspberry Lemonade, and he orders the Country Fried Shrimp.

Gavin takes a sip of his drink and finds that he agrees with the Thing in the sonic. It’s definitely some good shit.

“Funny seeing you around here, Gav.”

Gavin looks up from his drink, almost spills it in surprise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin manages to shake his head.

Caleb Adams pulls out the chair across from him and sits. Gavin stares at him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, “NORMAL HOROSCOPES: Making your day a little more magic whether you like it or not.” Gavin’s not sure if it’s supposed to be advertising for a psychic’s shop or if it’s some strange indie band he’s never heard of. Knowing Caleb, it’s probably the latter.

He finally manages to speak, “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” Caleb leans an elbow on the table, and props his head up in his hand, his smile never wavers, “And?”

“And- and I don’t know, Fuck, I don’t know.”

The waitress briefly interrupts his existential crisis by depositing his Country Fried Shrimp on the table. Gavin looks down at it and tries to focus on the smell of greasy seafood instead of the dead man sitting across from him.

“You seem confused.” Caleb’s voice sounds uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Gavin nods.

He sighs, frowning “Eat your lunch, and then we’ll talk.”

Gavin eats what he can, but it’s a large portion, and he’s somehow not that hungry. He takes a final bite, and pushes the plate across the table, silently offering Caleb the rest of the shrimp.

The barest hint of a smile returns to his face, “Thanks, but no.” And then he’s frowning again, “Why’re you here, Gav?”

“I just went where I was told to-”

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t mean the friggin’ Cracker Barrel, I mean Here.”

And Gavin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That he’s here because he felt lost and desperate? That he didn’t know what to do anymore? That it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s fine, everything's fine and he’s just tired?

But he doesn’t tell Caleb any of that, he just says, “I miss you.” And he can’t keep his voice from cracking.

“I know you do.” Caleb places a hand over his, “But this is damn near one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done. You knew this place wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He feels numb, “I didn’t really care.”

“Gavin,” Caleb grips his hand now, “Look at me, please. I mean, really look at me.”

So he does, he looks up at him, and finally, meets his eyes.

They have not changed. Death has not reduced the amount of compassion behind them, nor faded the sea blue color. Gavin stares. Eyes are supposed to be a window into someone's soul, a way to truly see into them, and Gavin just stares because Caleb’s eyes are still capable of conveying so much, and he can feel tears running down his face…..

“It’s time to go home, Gav, okay?” He gestures to the window, and the Greyhound bus has pulled up, “Your ride's here.”

And Gavin knows has to force himself to look away and loosen his grip, and he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s alright.” He says, “It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of the bill, Please just let go.”

And Gavin finally, Finally manages to tear himself away.

He does not feel anything but relief as he leaves, as he boards the bus and settles into a seat. He leans back, and watches through the window as the world shifts and shimmers and is suddenly dark and starry once more. As the Greyhound pulls out of the Sonic parking lot, Gavin closes his eyes, and slowly falls into the comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

[mybiasisexo]

Reverent

Genre: Angst | Fallen Angel!au

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warning: Religion (?) | Blasphamy (?)

Summary: Suho’s dull life takes quite the turn when he stumbles across a beautiful demon

Author’s Note: @byunfirstlady here is the roughest of rough drafts of the angel!suho fic I promised like 2 years ago smh. I really need to give it the attention it deserves bc it could really, truly, be something great. Until then, here is what I have for now. Mind you it is not edited and I plan on changing a lot of things about it, but I really like the narration, idk, its kinda beautiful???  Title is also a WIP

MASTERLIST

credit

What do you miss?

That was the question Suho thought constantly. It repeatedly flowed through his brain. Oh, so many answers to the question! But, undeniably, being in good grace was the most regretful.

He made his choices, fair enough. Some would say he shouldn’t had been able to do that much, he knew all too well, free will wasn’t of his domain. Yet, look where it got him.

Trapped. Stranded on an insignificant sphere that twirled around mockingly as a cruel reminder of all that he had lost.

Time to him meant absolutely nothing. It was yet another thing out of his domain, but some years such as this, he dreaded the slowness of it. Dreaded the reminder that he was stuck in this vacuum they called Earth, waiting for a day that will never come.

For him to finally be forgiven.

His eyes squinted as he took in the corn yellow sun. It was almost blindingly white, as if life itself had sucked away all of the vibrant hue. This part of the world was like that: dreary. Filled with washed out blues and browns, dusty and dry. It wasn’t a place he preferred, he found himself more at home in large metropolises, surrounded by people too busy to recognize such a raw entity, although they could still tell when around his presence that something was…off.

It was a blessing and a curse, Suho supposed, his soul. If he even had one. If he could even call it that. That was the one thing that reminded him of who he truly was. After being stripped of everything, that was all He left him with. Naked, shaking in humility, bleeding for the first time, and radiant.

He could leave the holy place, but it would always reside within him.

Lately, he felt lonely.

That’s what had brought him here—the loneliness. Being imprisoned upon the Earth for as long as he had, you grew to become lonesome. There were many ways to try to compete with it, but as long as he was an outcast, he would forever be lost in his isolation.

His closest friend throughout it all was the sun. The bright mass of energy that warmed his hard skin always reminded him of the love he once had—that he still had. The sun kept his faith alive. And as it rose in the morning, it brought with it the start of a new beginning.

He could never turn back time.

That was probably why he disdained the word so much.

His attention was pulled away from the hovering orb, brought to the young man of which he came for. The boy with the brazen skin.

He was beautiful, this could not be denied. As he rushed out of his house, keys clanking in his awkwardly large hand. He was late again. Suho tisked, but his eyes widened with what followed after the boy.

An unfamiliar woman trailed behind him, not nearly in as much a hurry as the one before her. Her face was otherworldly beautiful, built to invite, built to seduce.

The boy was in the car in no time, speeding away in a hurry, leaving dust in his wake.

The woman stopped, not taking after him. Instead, she lifted her head and locked eyes solidly with Suho.

He gasped as she smiled angelically and then the dust lifted, barricading her from view.

Once it settled again, she was gone.

~*~

Suho could barely recall the last time he saw another one of the Fallen. About fifty years, give or take. A demon? It had been a bit longer. There were fewer of them, although some of the fallen seek refuge under the dark wings of the under lord. It was why they were created after all, to follow, to serve. If not to Him than to his enemy. The two of them were more similar than they thought, although Suho would never dream of telling either one—not like he would ever get the chance to. Lucifer terrified him and God… well, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

Even though it had been a while, he recognized a demon when he saw one. What did she want with the boy? Puzzled, Suho pondered what drew the creature to him in the first place.

Speaking of places, this wasn’t Suho’s at all. He never considered himself a vigilante, as many other Fallen do. Their sense of purpose and protection overwhelming them to do right. That was mostly those who were guardians in the past. Suho was not in that field. No. This foreign sense of concern drew from something else entirely. He bit his lip, curling the warm mug in his hands closer to himself as he fought off the strange feeling fogging his mind.

The demon, right.

Demons were sent to Earth from the Under Lord to do his biddings. Simply, to coerce as many humans as they could. Drag them back to hell so that He could mourn the loss of yet another of his fragile creatures. Suho understood enough to know Lucifer took great pride in hurting Him however he could. Another lost soul was a victory to him.

She must have saw something within that boy to make her decide to latch. Suho had been watching him for a while now, and this was the first he had seen of the dark entity. Maybe she felt it…. No, there was no way. Suho was being careful, meticulously so. There was no room for error as far as his involvement and he meant to keep it that way.

He was that boy’s protector, now more than ever, he had a duty to him.

It felt good, having a purpose again. He had lost it centuries ago—a real duty, a call to be good.

Maybe after all of this was done, he would again be in His good grace. But it was still a wistful wish, one he refused to humor until it happened.

“Would you like another one, Sir?”

Suho lifted his head to the waitress and despite being a regular at this point, she still stuttered at his beauty.

He smiled, white teeth on display and her breath caught in her throat. “Please.”

~*~

A week had gone by without any sight of the demon. Suho tried to mask his disappointment with relief. It wasn’t as though he wanted anything to come to the boy, but it had been so long since he had been in contact with one of his own, demon or not. She had to have some sort of connection to their shared past.

He knew how demons worked.

Once they found a person to leech off of, they attached until their job was done, or the person fought them off. Suho watched an exorcism once. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to witness. That was a long time ago, using different methods, different practices. All the same, it was a memory that, to this day, gave him chills.

The boy was a religious man, oddly enough. Suho didn’t understand how, but every Sunday, he found himself at the local church, sitting in the back, listening to the spoken word.

He used to pray, but hadn’t in years. He wondered if it were his place too, if God ever listened to him or others like him. Or, like everything else, if it were only for them.

He was running late this Sunday. It was well into mass when he rushed towards the small, yet still elegant tan bricked church.

His quick steps came to a stop when he saw someone leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. She wore torn leather pants that hung dangerously low on her wide hips, an equally as torn black wife beater that appeared more of a well-used rag than anything else as it barely covered the swell of her breasts, though her toned stomach was exposed. Her belly botton was pierced and a faded tattoo splayed over her abdomen. He couldn’t make out the word from this distance and the ink blended into her skin. A small black denim vest sat on her shoulders, leaving her arms exposed, tattoos dotted the limbs as well. Her jet black straight hair hung loosly. It was time for her to wash it. Her face, again, was angelic, despite her best efforts to be anything but. Big stunning round eyes surrounded by long eyelashes that brushed her chiseled cheeks whenever she blinked. Nose a button on the center of her face, lips full and pink, cheeks rosy, and skin flawless, not a blemish in sight.

He had her full attention as well. She took him in with a pleased smile, holding the cigarette up. “You think this will kill me?”

Her voice was just as attractive as her face, and the way she tilted her head left Suho breathless. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, struck dumb by her large presence. It had been a moment since he saw one of his kind, but he never felt a presence as strong as hers.

She noticed.

Never breaking eye contact, she dropped the small stick, putting it out with the heel of her boot. Than she motioned her thumb towards the building she currently leaned against where he could faintly make out singing.

“They won’t let me in. I thought this place welcomed all.”

“Why are you here?” He worked up the courage to ask. He knew why, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. “Thought our old man would be happy to see me.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans. “Guess not.”

“Do… Do I know you?” Suho pressed. There were hundreds of angels, all with a specific role/job. It was impossible to know them all, especially if this were someone who fell after him, but her energy was strong—too strong to be newer than him.

She shrugged again. “Maybe. When did you fall?”

“When did you?”

“Oh, so you’re the one in charge here I see.” She laughed, pushing herself off the building to come closer. “What’s your name, tough guy?”

Her breath smelled sweet. He hadn’t been this close to a demon before, refusing to have anything to do with them. They were everything He hated, everything He feared. He wanted nothing against those who had turned their backs completely from Him.

All the same, he felt complied to answer. “This land refers to me as Suho.”

“Suho,” she repeated, letting the word swirl around her wet tongue. “Korean, correct? Makes sense, that’s where we are.”

“It means—”

“Guardian.” She interrupted. “Fitting. You must’ve been one in your past life.”

His jaw clenched and she noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

[pynkhues]

i know that the audacity of what im about to ask is off the charts bc you're already too good to us, writing fic left and right and updating a lot soon but im SO weak over the parenting group!AU that im right here to beg for a snippet of it, if you feel like sharing!

Haha, the audacity is not off the charts at all! I can give you a snippet! Sorry it’s coming a little later – when you sent this to me this morning, I was like ‘oh god, everything I have is too ugly to post’ haha, so it gave me an excuse to tidy up a scene I’d drafted already which is fun! 

I will say as just a heads up, I’m operating now on a one-out-one-in system for multi-chaptered WIPs. So when I finish CYF (which is basically done, just got to post the epilogue!), I’ll be starting to post the pirate au, and when I finish See You in the Light, I’ll be starting to post this parents group au, and then finally when I finish If It Wasn’t for All the Lights, I’ll start to post the BDSM au! It’s probably a deeply flawed system, but it’s the one I’m going ahead with, haha.

Anyway! 

A snippet of the parents group au!

“C’mon, pop,” Rio grunts, trying to get the tabs free on the side of the diaper as Marcus kicks out his legs, squirming up the back of the change mat like he’s trying to slip up on out of the thing, and shit, the last thing he needs is the kid to smear Rhea’s Earth Mama Angel Bottom Balm up the back of his new hoodie.

“I have spare diapers if you need to borrow one,” Beth says at the change table beside him, having apparently gotten Jane into her new one in record speed, and Rio lets his gaze stick for a second, watching as she makes even easier work of getting Jane’s thrashing legs back into her pink polka dot leggings, like it’s nothing at all. It’s enough to make his jaw rock, his attention twisting back to Marcus, trying to get the tab unstuck again, but his fingers are still oily with the diaper rash cream, and Marcus’ face is gettin’ redder, and he just can’t get his grip.

He tugs Marcus back towards him, dropping a hand to his son’s belly, tickling a little to try and calm him down, even as he levels Beth with an irritated look.

“Yeah, what part of this looks like the diaper’s the issue?”

Somewhere outside, he hears her friend laughing, the sound loud and warm over the pinging arcade machines and the banging of the bowling balls hitting the polished floor of the lanes, the crack of one hitting pins, and - - and he ain’t being fair.

Knows that.

It’s not her fault he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Still, when he glances sideways at her again, she’s unbothered by his tone – not pissed like Rhea would be, or wounded like his ma – and something about that bothers him more than it should. Instead, Beth shrugs, fixing her gaze back down on her daughter.

“It just looks like it’s one of those organic ones, right?” she says, gently lifting Jane to put her onto her belly for a few minutes of tummy time – just like Nance had told ‘em to in class – before turning to better look at Rio, her eyes tired as she watches him yank again on the tab of Marcus’ diaper. “I tried those with Kenny, and I just find the tabs always - -”

Riiiiiiiip.

He can feel his pulse in his throat as his cream-covered fingers clench around a handful of torn diaper, can feel it even harder behind his eyes, his blood thrumming hot beneath his skin and damn, it ain’t anger, it’s just - -

Fuckin’ exhaustion.

He pulls the diaper out from underneath Marcus’ bare, wet-with-diaper-cream ass and stamps his foot hard down on the peddle of the bin beside the change table, tossing the whole damn thing in with more force than necessary, and he’s expecting Elizabeth to have that look on her face again – that one that’s some mix of pity and judgement or even worry at seein’ a guy like him snap – but it ain’t even really a look at all. She’s just magicked up one of her kids’ diapers from that Mary Poppins bag of hers, and holds it out to him.

“If you loosen the tabs and open it up a bit before you get it under him it’ll be easier too,” she offers, and Rio grunts, plucking it from her hand and fixing his attention back on Marcus’ flailing legs, sucking in a breath to calm his frayed nerves, before gently lifting his son again to get the diaper up underneath him, adjusting it to get it in the right spot, trying to avoid Marcus’ kicking feet, and it’s just - - sudden.

That’s the thing.

Because Marcus’ legs calm down right in time with Beth’s arm suddenly pressing into Rio’s, and Rio blinks up to see Beth reached over and her finger is curled in Marcus’ tiny fish, and Rio tears his confused gaze away from Beth to look up and see his son smiling, that one that makes him look like the whole damn sun, and he keeps smiling, even when he shoves his fist – still clutchin’ Beth’s finger – right up into his mouth.

And he’s gonna stop it – ain’t like he loves other people’s kids chewing on his knuckles – but he finally gets Marcus properly into the clean diaper, and before he can do anything else, Beth’s just started talking.

“That is a strong grip,” she whispers, so quiet it’s almost like she doesn’t want Rio to hear, and her voice is light and bright in a way he ain’t really used to hearing. “And very warm slobber, which is what you want from slobber. I mean, can you even imagine cold slobber? Like a ghost. I will say Billy from class has some weirdly cold slobber, so you stay away from him, mister.”

Rio just - - blinks, his brow furrows, his lips parting, but when he opens them all the way, no words come out. Instead he just stands there like a dumbass, watching this woman half-bent over her kid and his at the change table of a bowling alley, her strawberry blonde hair falling down, concealing her face so all Rio can see is his son’s, and how whatever it is she’s doing makes his son happy, and he can’t really explain any of it, but he just - -

“Oh my god, Paulie! Twins!”

“Amber, don’t - -”

Whatever Paulie was about to say is lost to the rest of the parents’ room as Rio spins to see a skinny, leggy blonde thrust a toddler with milkshake-vomit down his shirt at some guy with frosted tips like this is the fuckin’ 90s, and dart towards them in a wave of too-sweet perfume. She’s so fuckin’ quick (or maybe just - - y’know - - awake given her kid’s old enough to vomit milkshake instead of formula), instantly peering over at Marcus and Jane on the change tables, an easier feat now that Beth’s standing up again, her finger reclaimed, rolling Jane back onto her back on the mat.

Amber’s cooing is instant, and Rio sighs, grabbing Marcus’ pants from where he’d slung them over his shoulder and starting to shake them out.

“Oh my goooodddd, they’re like those ones you see on TV! Paulie!! Look!! Like, one’s just like mommy, and one’s just like daddy.”

Which - - Rio blinks, looking sideways at Beth, who just seems to be watching Amber with that same neutral, Stepford Wife-look she gets in class. Rio sets his jaw, shaking his head, as he starts to bunch the pants up in his hands, ready to put them on Marcus, opening his mouth to correct the other woman.

“Nah, they ain’t - -”

“You think so?”

The words are offered so suddenly, so sharply, that Rio’s head spins back around to look at Beth again, his eyebrows raised at her interruption, but she doesn’t look back at him, just keeps her gaze fixed on Amber. She wrinkles her nose a little, purses her lips, before dropping a hand back to the change table while leaning forwards a little, almost conspiratorially.

“We’ve been thinking about signing them up for auditions, but I don’t know,” she waves a hand suddenly at Rio, who only blinks at her. “James here thinks it might not be the best idea.”

And okay, for starters, fuckin’ James? She really wants to play him like that? But also - - just - - y’know. What the fuck? Rio stares at her, taking in her widening eyes and her baggy mama sweater that does exactly zero to hide the fact that she’s stacked, but also the fact that she’s holdin’ herself kinda different all of a sudden. Like she’s caught him looking, her gaze darts towards him, and it’s so quick he almost misses it, the way she just sort of - -

Shrugs.

Rio scoffs a little – a sound Amber clearly reads as about the audition and not about this whole damn show – and turns around, putting on a smile for Marcus as he finishes bunching up the pants and pushing them up over his tiny feet.

“Men are always weird about this stuff, but you guys should totally be auditioning them! Like, I could literally see them in commercials for formula. You know they always put the cutest ones in them, because they want to trick regular people into thinking that their product’s gonna like, magic you a better-looking baby.”

Which - - look, Rio can’t exactly say it’s a surprise. He’s pretty sure his sister changed her kids’ brand of juice because one of the ads had one of the little girl’s playin’ Daisy Doctor instead of Holly Housewife. His thoughts are interrupted though when Marcus sneezes, and Rio leans over enough to grab a tissue from Beth’s diaper bag, vaguely aware of Paulie rounding the change tables for the sink, and tugging off his own kids’ shirt and it’s really only then that Rio realises he hasn’t even blinked at the smell of vomit, which - -

Okay, actually, that could be the fifteen years working in a bar.

“You know, I think I’ve heard that,” Beth says, and the girl makes a humming noise, her bowling shoes tapping a little on the tiled floor.

“Well, that’s an insider secret for you. I lived in LA for like, ever. It was almost two years. I mean, closer to one, but that’s basically 40 Hollywood years. I even once auditioned to play a mom in a Baby’s Only commercial. I mean I didn’t get it, but I think it was because I was like, too in shape, y’know?”

Which - - shit, Rio coughs a little to cover a sound he doesn’t even know, a laugh? A scoff? Why the hell is she even talkin’ to this woman?

“Wow,” Beth says though, her voice loaded with concern. “That’s gotta be discrimination.”

“I know right?”

And it’s Jane who wobbles at least, her bottom lip quivering, her legs kicking, and Beth turns around instantly, humming softly back down at her daughter, and before Rio can help it, his gaze darts over to her, watching as her face softens, her eyes glaze over, like they do sometimes, and he thinks of saying somethin’ to her, but shit, what? He doesn’t know jack about her.

A wave of perfume hits them again, and the second he finishes getting Marcus’ pants on, picks him up, turns around at the same time Beth does with Jane, Amber’s right in front of them, her gaze darting between Jane and Marcus, like she’s not sure which one to look at first.

Finally, she just sighs, clutching a hand forlornly to her chest.

“Like, I’m not even kidding. You made two really nice babies. Like, Paulie, tell them I’m not kidding.”

Over at the sink, Paulie grunts again, holding the toddler’s shirt under a furious stream of water, and Rio stares for a minute, watching the guy morosely clean up toddler vomit while the kid licks the rim of the sink. Rio resists the urge to gag as he bounces Marcus a little on his hip.  

“How’d you two even meet anyway?”

And at least that much he should’ve expected. Rio shakes his head, gaze fixing back on Amber, the words ready on his tongue, but before he can say a damn thing, Beth’s cut him off again.

“It sounds so weird, but it was actually at an underwater research center.”

Which - - okay - - what?

His gaze flicks back to Beth, but she ain’t looking back at him. She’s just got Jane curled into her chest, nestling her face into her breast, while Beth hums a little, just - - blatantly fuckin’ lying.

“I was studying - - ” outside, a bowling ball hits the floor hard. “How sound affects  - -“ she fingers her pearl necklace with the hand not clutching Jane, “Oysters, because I am a scientist, and James here was researching - - ” Beth’s gaze darts around, fixing on Marcus in Rio’s arms. “Marco Polo.”

Before Rio’s even had time to catch up to that, Paulie blinks up, confused, from his spot at the sink.

“In Detroit?”

It’s enough to make Beth stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly, and he really should just leave her to fix this herself, should leave her there gaping like a fish, scrambling for the tail-end of her own lie, and get back out to the group, but - - Rio sucks in a breath - - Marcus would be bare-assed right now if it wasn’t for her.

“Nah, man, west coast. We just moved back here to be close to family with the twins,” he drawls with a shrug, and maybe that makes it worth it – how quickly Beth reels around to look at him, and  - - shit, have her eyes always been that blue? Rio blinks, jerks his head back around to Amber, rolling his shoulders back to undo the sudden knot in them. “One of those things, yeah? We met workin’ out there, but turned out we were both from here.”

He means to leave it at that. Should, really, but all he can think about is her in class – prim and proper and that look again, like she’s judging him, and she got them into this, right? Before he can think twice, he drops his free hand to her lower back, smoothing it around to hold the soft hip furthest from him, smiling toothlessly as Beth stiffens and then pointedly, deliberately, relaxes, while Amber holds her hand to her chest again, hums an: “Aww, that’s how you know it’s meant to be!”

“That’s right,” Rio replies, and he watches Beth turn her face up to meet him, her gaze darting across his face like she’s trying to figure something out, and shit, he’s just trying to match what she’s laying down. After a moment, Beth spins into him, her free arm dipping around his back, and something in him sparks hot and he just - - he hadn’t known how fucking small her hands were until one squeezes at his waist.

“Right, honey,” she says, voice high and too-sweet. “I was just so lucky. And speaking of our families, we should really get back to them.”

After that, it’s easy enough to pack up the last of the diaper bags, for Amber to dip down to help Paulie and the kid, and for them to slip out again under the distraction, and it’s just fuckin’ weird, he thinks, to watch that little character Beth had invented – all ease and charm – slip off her shoulders like a cloak, and he means to let it go, because what skin is it off his nose if she’s some sort of pathological liar? But as they duck between the groups of sprawling teenagers and middle America families ordering fries and picking bowling ball weights, guys shoving each other at arcade games, and kids feeding quarters into claw machines, he just - - itches.

So maybe he steps a little slower, matching her pace, maybe he looks at her, amused, a little goading as he says: “So you in some secret, new mama improv group, or what?”

And Beth just - -

Shrugs, and shit, she doesn’t even look at him when she says:

“You don’t ever get bored of just being you?”

Rio blinks, his step slowing all over again, taking in her tired look, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, that shirt she’s wearing, stained with grubby children’s fingers and milk, that damn new mama smell that’s always up his nose with her, and he just thinks - - nah, not really, but before he has the chance to say it, it’s like she’s read it on his face. She hoists a snuffling Jane up a little higher and moves faster than she has any right to. Back across the bowling alley, back into their lane, nestled in the shelter between her friend and her sister, away from him.

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Girls go wild (Qi'ra x Reader)

Request: Hello there! Can you please make a shot with Qi’ra? I couldn’t find any :( and I love her so so much, maybe meeting her after she’s gone with Darth Maul, but then she kinda really likes reader so she decide to abandon him, idk something closer maybe, it would mean a lot to me 🧡 by anon.

Words: 2,209

A/N: Qi'ra is finally here! sorry for the delay. I got a bit carried away with this one bc she's such a nice character! Hope you like it!

You had expected the mission to be difficult, it always was. You also expected it to be risky, very risky. Stealing was one thing but stealing from the Empire was a whole other level but it was worth more credits than you would ever seen in your entire life.

What you never expected was her to join you on the mission, never expected to work side by side with the face of the Crimson Dawn, Qi’ra. The brunette stole your heart since the very first moment you met her on her yacht. A sophisticated woman with a warm smile that hided a rough past she would never talk about.

You found Qi'ra waiting silently for you in your cockpit just before you took off. She didn't trust you, it was clear she didn't trust in many people and you were no difference at first.

"No one can get into an Imperial building without being noticed" she said when you asked what was she doing there "If you say you can do it, I have to see it to believe it." she told you with a slight smile dancing on her lips.

"Fine by me" you told her already starting the engine. "But believe me, it's not gonna be easy."

"Perfect, I hate easy" she smirked as she let herself fall on the copilot seat next to you.

You earned her trust after you showed her just how capable for the mission you were landing at a safe distance from any patrol of stormtroopers and showed her the way to sneak into the fully guarded Imperial base.

Once you had the target on your hands Qi’ra and you rushed down the glossy halls, ready to let the place but one thing was get inside the building and a very different one was get out and in the final steps you were caught by a handful of troopers that quickly surrounded you, it was there when you found out Qi'ra was an expert on hand to hand combat taking down troopers as soon as they approached. You also found that you made a good team, bypassing security more than once and fighting the men in white armor until you were back to the ship, it was just the two of you there looking out for one another, it made somehow bond with this mysterious lady.

Than later on the ship the complicit looks between you and her and this growing attraction made you think you two would be nice partners in crime.

Qi'ra was no one with the feelings, she dedicated most of her time to build a wall between her and everyone else to protect herself, not to get hurt. But she couldn't denied she felt something inside her chest every time her gaze crossed yours, nor that she found you incredible smart and beautiful though maybe a little reckless. You did what seemed impossible to her and for that and your noble heart you were spark of hope she hadn't seen in a very long time.

The mission took some days and more flying hours and you got to meet her a little better. She was different in your ship, she could be a glamorous and mysterious woman while negotiating but with you she would never stop smiling, amused with the stories from your past and she was glad you never asked about hers. And as the final day of the mission came you had the craziest idea that maybe she was falling for you as much as you were for her and that maybe you could run away together.

"Can't believe we have to get back" she murmured contemplating the blue and white tunnel of the hyperspace, just one last stop before getting back to her yacht.

"About that" you told her "I've been thinking..."

"Oh, so you think. I thought your head was as empty as a Stormtrooper's helmet." she joked and you couldn't resist her smile.

"Hey!." You smiled back at her. Then you gathered all your courage before speaking again. "Maybe we could leave after this cargo, you said you hate to be the boss I get why, your a woman of action, I suspect that’s why you came in the first place. Maybe you should leave."

“It’s not that easy, darling.”

“I thought you hated easy” you added looking at her her playfully.

She leaned in the seat for a moment carefully listening to you a bit surprised you figured her intentions.

"Well, I think we make a good team and maybe we can left it all behind, no more boring meetings, no more clans, no more Crimson Dawn. And, I don’t know, start over in the other side of the galaxy, we can steal a few things, open up a cantina-"

She looked at you long and hard, and for a moment she was tempted to say yes for the way your eyes shined with the possibility of a future by her side, she liked you just so much and felt so much for you in such short time meeting you, but she couldn't.

She had fought so much to earn her place in the Crimson Dawn and even if she wanted to leave it wouldn't be easy, he wouldn't let her.

Once you’re part of the Crimson Dawn, you can’t leave.

"No.” she cut you off.

The smile in your lips faded away.

“No?” you said surprised by her quick answer.

“What makes you think I would do such silly thing?" She asked with a now serious face staring at you with a cold inexpressive face.

"I thought… " you mumbled. "No, forget it. It's stupid. I thought maybe you and I-”

"It is stupid." she said. You were a risk she couldn't take, you made her lower her guard enough to make her fall for you and after years of surviving she learned love was a very dangerous thing, Qi'ra couldn't allow herself to have a weakness, especially if that weakness was you.

She was a survivor willing to do whatever it takes to protect herself, even if it meant giving up love, even if it meant breaking your heart.

“Let me set things straight, Y/N.” she murmured. “You work for me, this is just a job. And you” she eyed you up and down “You’re just another thief for me, whatever you believe was going on between you and me it’s just the making of the wild imagination of the child you are.”

She stood serious for a moment feeling her own words like daggers on her heart. She had a great talent telling lies, and she hated how believable her sentences sounded because she knew she was hurting you.

You gave her no answer, you had no words to tell her, except maybe to apologize for how wrong you read her actions towards you. She made you feel so little, like a really little girl falling in love for the very first time only to find out she was unrequited. Reminded you how new you were in this work.

"One last stop, you'll get your credits and go" she said breaking the silence as she stood on her feet. "and we will never see each other again. I'll make sure the Crimson Dawn leaves you alone" she sentenced before leaving you alone in the cold cockpit.

You flew the short way to Dathomir in silence and heartbroken, wondering if she was feeling the same way in the back of your ship but probably not, she made it very clear she was not interest in you.

Once you landed in the strange and dark planet Qi’ra ordered you to wait inside the ship, she was going to deliver the cargo herself.

When she arrived to the weird looking palace hided by the fog she was immediately greeted by her boss, the real head of the Crimson Dawn and by far the only person she truly feared, Maul.

"Qi'ra" he hissed, reclined in his throne like seat "I was expecting you."

"I brought the weapons you requested" she informed and stood in her place in front of him watching how he got up and walked towards the weapon filled box.

"I see. I never doubted you, Qi'ra. You certainly keep your word." He said carefully examining the merchandise. "But I am curious on how you managed to get inside an Imperial base"

"I hired someone " she said carefree "A thief. She was worth the credits she asked for.”

Maul stopped noticing the subtle change in the tone of Qi’ra’s voice, slightly higher and though she tried to hided it, he noticed the shadow of a smile forming on her lips.

He walked calmly towards Qi'ra, she was a good liar he knew it but still he was better at reading people.

“I sense your loyalty has change and it does not belong to me anymore.” Maul told her in his usual calm yet dangerously tone, slowly circulating around her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Qi'ra said keeping her voice strong, avoiding his gaze which made him chuckle.

“Naive child, you can’t lie to me, I can see right through you." He said “But if it doesn't belong to me then to who?”

To you.

"Y/N" he murmured and Qi'ra eyes opened in surprise, he smirked "Ah, yes, it belongs to her now."

“She’s just a thief.” Qi’ra told him “She’ll run away as soon as I give her the money and forget about me just as fast.” It was what a regular thief would do, or anyone in this business, she knew it and hoped Maul believed her.

“You might be right, but you won’t forget her that easily, would you?” he hissed.

No, he was right. Qi’ra had only known you for a short time but it was enough to win a place in her heart and in her memory.

“The girl prefers to stay on her own.” Qi’ra added changing the subject “And appreciates the opportunity to work for us but prefers to stay out of the Crimson Dawn.” she said “I need her credits.”

Maul doubted for a moment before handing her a briefcase filled with a real big large sum of credits. Qi’ra nodded slowly and started her way out of the place as Maul took his place in the throne again.

“Qi’ra” he said before she could go out “Careful. Do not disappoint me.” he told her sensing the growing feelings she had for you.

“I won’t” she said and finally she left with her mind full of questions that grew bigger as she spotted you waiting for her in the cockpit.

She thought about the last talk she had with you and your offer to escape with her. The idea was tempting for her, maybe a little too risky, if she decided to go with you she would have a bounty on her head but so would you. If she stayed with Maul sooner or later he would get rid of her, she knew it.

As she got closer to the ship she remembered the great times she spended with you in this short but blissful time. The way you seemed so concentrated flying your rather old ship and the radiant smile after your plans went almost too good. The way you were there for her when she fell in the small battle against the troopers, she had a way to survive she learned in the streets of Corellia.

“Someone falls, you keep running” she reproached you once you were safe.

“Not to me” you told her “We're on this together. There was no way I would have left you there, we’re a team and no one is left behind, that’s how we stay alive”

It was a very different point of view from hers but she had to admit she liked it to have someone who would have her back, someone she could trust on, someone who would be there for her. Not to mention she would adore to have you around more and get to know you way more closer.

She had rejected an offer like this before, she had giving up to love once, won’t let it happen again.

“Start the engines, we have to go” she told you as soon a she stepped in the cockpit.

“Where to?” you asked serious.

“You choose” she said. Confused you turned to look at her, you were greeted by her bright smile. “I rethinked your offer. I want it, I want all of it”

“But you said-”

“We’ll discuss this later, Y/N” she told you “For now the only thing that matters is that we gotta go off this planet. And that I do like you, a lot if I’m honest. We’re a team remember?”

You smiled.

“Yes, we are.” you told her already pressing the buttons to take off watching how she sat next to you. You felt your heart racing as fast as the motor of your ship thinking of a future with her by your side. It sure wasn’t going to be easy, especially since the Crimson Dawn would probably search for her in every part of the galaxy, but where’s the fun in doing something easy?