#i mean technically he already did. Like in a way

[citrustan]

Hey, Citrus!! I miss seeing your stories and posts on the tl! Do you have a "love-daze" update for us? 🤤

hi!!! thank youuu wee i thought you'd never ask wink wink. this is a follow up to love-daze (myg) so please read that first!!

love-daze (myg) #2

title: only when no one's looking

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: unrequited love (but is it....?) n friends to lovers but yoongi's a tad uneasy because well yk

warnings: you and yoongi run into a little problem. a little heavier on the angst this time! non linear storytelling, lmk if you find it confusing because this was written in a haste.

"I have a problem," you say, mostly to yourself.

Nini just happens to be in the room. She looks at you intently, waiting for an explanation.

You debate whether or not this problem is even worth discussing. On one hand, you already have the solution but won't exercise it, but on the other, whining about it will certainly make you feel a lot better. But do you deserve that relief?

“It’s kind of complicated,” you murmur, more to buy time than anything.

You're now dating dating Yoongi. Technically. Emotionally. Exclusively. But only in private. Because Yoongi refuses to be open about it as to lessen his ex's pain. (But, in turn, he's risking yours.)

It's not like you're dying to be out and about, paraded around as his girlfriend, but when he goes out of his way to protect his ex's feelings, it stings.

"Yoongi won't date me openly," you blurt, "-because his ex is in the same friend circle, and I'm kind of over it." It comes out more blunt than you intended.

You don't know how she'll handle this. You could have worded that better though.

She sinks into the couch, next to you, giving you her undivided attention. She squints for second, trying to remember where she saw Yoongi.

Jennie (or Nini) moved in only two weeks ago, so she has limited knowledge of your life.

Yeah, yeah, point and laugh. You're a grown woman with a roommate. It's a tough economy. Teaching doesn't pay your bills anymore. You had to find a side gig, and this is it. Renting.

Pride took a back seat somewhere around your third bounced paycheck.

"Yoongi's your boyfriend?" She looked surprised, finally connecting the name to the face.

"I mean, kind of. We've never really discussed it in that many words." You pause. "We're only dating each other right now, isn't that all that counts?"

"Yeah, more or less, yes." Nini nods along before adding, "But I still don't see the issue. If you're secure, why does it matter whether or not you're openly secure? I mean, if I were in your shoes, I'd be lowkey too."

TLDR: I'd keep my head down if I were you.

That irritates you more than you'd like to admit.

"No, but you don't know..." You trail off, sighing. You hope this doesn't turn into an argument. "I know it sounds bad right now, but this has been a long time coming." You sounded like you were convincing yourself.

"Yoongi and I were friends first. I've always liked him. She knew it too. Everyone did."

Nini's eyes widen, "Oh! Sure, that makes sense. I mean making the moves on your friend's ex is a little..." She smiles awkwardly, "I mean, I'm not judging."

You felt the need to defend your choices, "I didn't make moves on him. Yoongi came to me. And Sera isn't really a friend, she never was. We were friendly but that's it. We've never been anything more than convenient company to each other."

You feel crazy trying to explain yourself to an almost-stranger.

Jennie shook her head in reassurance, "I get it! I'm not attacking you, I'm just... You know, sharing my perspective."

You throw a beady-eyed glance at her, trying to figure out if she hates you yet. Because that was the reaction you had gotten from most of your friends. Her friends.

They couldn't stop talking about it when they saw you kissing Yoongi at some deli.

Once, someone spotted you at a dinner date and actually went as far as to take pictures of you.

Obviously, they circulated back to the two of you.

Yoongi wasn't pleased.

Another time, you and Yoongi ran into Sera and her best friend at a Claire's.

That was the last place you expected Sera to be at.

You had only wanted to find a cheap belly button ring.

How was that the first time you came into contact after the break-up? At a Claire's?

You should've accepted Yoongi's offer to buy you a custom made ring. But he wanted to take you to Swarovski. And you thought they were a scam. You could get the same quality of stuff for way lesser at other places.

You tried to pretend to not have seen them but then she greeted you while her friend glared at you.

Which obviously made you look insanely rude.

But hello? Wasn't it an unwritten rule for the ex to not acknowledge the new girl? Or were you just childish?

You awkwardly force a smile.

The four of you just stood there. In the middle of a Claire's. All staring at each other waiting for someone to make a move.

Was Sera actually that nice and unbothered? You don't know. But, her sidekick sure wasn't.

And exactly at that moment, Sera decided it was too difficult for her to deal coming face-to-face with her ex and his new flame and excuses herself, dramatically (intentionally or not, it was dramatic) turning away and storming off.

But the cherry on top was Yoongi's reaction.

Instead of calming you down, he went after Sera! And she didn't even look half as frazzled as you did!

Yoongi's legs automatically moved to chase after her.

And, you get it. Fair enough.

Because love doesn't just go poof and disappear. And with Yoongi and Sera--- whatever anyone thinks about them now--- had once been in love. For a long while at that.

It must've been insanely difficult and hellish for them to have to move on from something like this.

So, you really don't blame him for running after her.

Connections don't always break cleanly.

It's just... You wish you didn't feel like collateral damage here.

Like do you think you'd do the same if she was your ex? Yes, probably.

Was it embarrassing for you? Also, yes.

Still, you wished Yoongi had asked your permission or at least glanced at you, just once, to make sure YOU were okay.

But you were left alone with Sera's friend.

She shot you the nastiest stink-eye the entire time Yoongi and Sera chatted on the side.

It was nearly barbaric. It was as if she was trying to overpower you in some way.

Shivers.

That look made you want to hide behind your hands or something. It sucked.

Everyone gave you the look. The 'oh, she swooped in like a vulture' look, that 'there goes the homewrecker' look.

You awkward shifted your weight from one foot to another.

These heels were killing your soles. Yoongi told you to wear walking shoes but you were confident you wouldn't need them.

You looked everywhere but at her. And you still felt her eyes burning holes into your head. Like she was trying to decipher your thoughts.

When Yoongi and Sera rejoined you, they were closer in proximity.

You don't think too much of it. You're just glad your boyfriend's back.

Yoongi instantly wraps his large hand around yours, gently stroking it with his thumb. You look up at him with a small smile.

"Um... _____, I'll see you around more I hope?" Sera's voice broke your little moment.

What the hell had they talked about?

Pleasantly surprised, you just nod slightly. You'd like that actually.

"That would be... Good." You agree. A bit more genuinely this time.

Sera's friend also toned it down after getting a little elbow from Sera.

The two women then bid goodbye, leaving you and Yoongi alone again.

You look at Yoongi who's already gazing down at you, "Still wanna look through the Claire's catalogue?"

No, you think. You're actually done with Claire's now.

As if he read your mind, he pulled you in closer and you let him guide you whenever. Preferably to the nearest Swarovski.

Whatever the hell happened there with Sera, you're grateful for.

He took really good care of you later that evening.

But from that day onwards, you noticed he had pulled back from you significantly, all under the guise of being overworked.

You're a teacher. You get it. Overworking, that too without pay, is, like, part of your job description. Yet, you make time for Yoongi.

But all he ever wanted lately was to hang out at his place. He'd come over only when Jennie wasn't home.

He made you feel like you had to hide your relationship. As if you were doing something shameful.

Nini shifts next to you on the couch. She's still quiet, probably turning it all over in her head.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve.

"Do you still want to be with him?" She finally asks, soft but cautiously.

The question catches you off guard. It’s not an accusation. It’s not even advice. It’s just… a question.

Wasn't it already apparent that you did?

Of course, you want to be with Yoongi. It's all you've wanted for months. Nothing has changed about that.

With a voice barely above a whisper, you frown, "I really do."

Jennie doesn’t say anything at first. She just nods like she's trying to convince herself.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," she says, "But you shouldn’t have to shrink to be with someone."

You raise your chin a little. Hm. True.

Feeling satisfied by your reaction, Jennie grins and pats your head, "I'm gonna go now. Won't be back until tomorrow... After breakfast?" She looks to you for an answer.

"Um... No, yeah ok." You don't know if Yoongi would stay over after the conversation you were gonna have with him. "Actually, whenever is fine. I dunno."

Jennie raises an eyebrow at your waffling, but doesn’t press. She just stands, stretches, and gathers her things into her canvas tote. You hadn't even noticed her stuff around.

"Okay then. I’ll assume brunch. Or post-brunch," she says with a wink, already halfway to the door. "Text me if you need anything. Or if you want me to fake an emergency call and drag you out mid-convo."

You nod with a little smirk.

She lingers a second longer at the threshold, like she’s debating whether to say more.

"Just… don’t let him confuse you into thinking this is what love’s supposed to look like, okay?"

She looks at you pointedly, waiting for a response.

"I won’t."

She smiles. Then she’s gone.

You check your phone. Five unread messages from Yoongi, all within the last thirty minutes.

[5] unread messages.

yoonie bby: Thinking about you. Can't focus.

yoonie bby: Wanna be inside you already. Miss your mouth.

yoonie bby: Also your pretty laugh.

yoonie bby: Should I cook or bring food?

yoonie bby: Your favourite cheesecake secured BTW. Can't wait to hold my sweet girl tonight.

You stare at the screen for a moment. Your stomach flips, as always. He’s so filthy and considerate in the same breath. He's so Yoongi.

You lock your phone and let your head fall back against the couch cushion, reminding yourself that you were still upset at this situation.

note: okayyy sooo i decided to drop this as an apology for my lack of posting in the recent months soooo do tell me what you think of this :) thanks for reading!

[chadobi]

The Look of Love

Bayverse Leonardo x Fem!Reader

The lair was glowing, alive with the kind of warmth that only came from mismatched furniture, half-working lights, and the presence of people you didn’t have to pretend around.

April’s laugh cut through the air like a song you never wanted to end, mingling with the excited chaos of Mikey’s voice shouting something about “technically legal Uno moves.” Donnie was trying to explain the rules (for the fifth time), and Raph had just thrown down his cards and declared, “This game is dumb anyway.”

You smiled, curled up on the edge of the couch, watching the dysfunction unfold like a well-rehearsed play. And yet, despite the comfort of it all, your mind felt distant, adrift.

You rose quietly, unnoticed in the blur of playful accusations and flying playing cards, and made your way toward the kitchen.

It was dimly lit, washed in soft gold from the overhead lamp. The walls still carried faint traces of past meals and late-night laughter. You reached for a glass in the cabinet, already picturing the taste of cold water, when…

He was there.

Leonardo stood near the counter, his back to you, the mug in his hand still steaming.

You paused.

He turned at the sound of your step, slow and instinctive, eyes landing on yours. His expression shifted, subtle, but noticeable. Just enough to catch your breath off-guard.

“Oh,” he said, not startled but definitely surprised. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

You swallowed. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to his mug. “You didn’t. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The air felt different now. Not tense, but… aware. Like even the quiet between you two was watching.

You moved to the sink and filled your glass. From the corner of your eye, you could feel him still there. Unmoving. Present.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence softly, “needed a break from Uno madness?”

He exhaled a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You have no idea. Mikey and April teamed up, and now it’s not even Uno anymore. It’s some mutant version called ‘Undefeated Mikuno.’”

You snorted into your glass. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or horrified.”

“Both’s a safe bet.”

You turned, leaning back against the counter across from him. He mirrored the posture, arms folded casually over his broad chest. His hoodie was slightly too small for him now, tight across his shoulders. You’d seen him train, fight, lead, always with control. But here, in the warm quiet, he seemed… softer. A little more human.

Your eyes met.

It wasn’t intentional.

Or maybe it was. Just a second too long.

Something flickered there, between the space of a breath and a blink. It didn’t speak, didn’t demand. It just existed, like a light between two rooms.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

It wasn’t intense, wasn’t wild. It was quiet. But it burned. A stillness that made the blood in your neck rush warm and visible under your skin.

The look of love, the rush of blood.

Not love, you told yourself. Not yet. But something.

Something enough to make the world feel a little less steady under your feet.

His gaze was unreadable in that moment, but not cold. If anything, it was too open. Like he forgot to build the walls in time. And you were suddenly aware of just how close he was. How little space separated the tips of your toes from his.

His lips parted, as if to say something, but no words followed. Just another breath. Another moment suspended.

Then…

“Yo, Raph! You owe me twenty bucks!”

Mikey’s voice pierced the silence like a stone through glass.

You startled, nearly dropping your glass. Leo flinched too, blinking rapidly and straightening up.

You both turned toward the entrance of the kitchen.

There, in the dim archway, were all of them. Donnie, Mikey, April, and Raph. Peeking around the corner like the world’s least discreet spies.

“We were literally betting on how long y’all would stare at each other,” April whispered, covering her mouth like it would muffle her amusement. “I said four minutes. Donnie said three and a half. Raph said…”

“…that it was weird and I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Raph grunted, arms crossed but unmistakably smug.

“I said nothing!” Donnie protested. “But I did start the stopwatch.”

Leonardo sighed heavily and rubbed a hand down his face. His cheeks were dusted with a deeper shade of green.

“You guys are unbelievable,” he muttered, already stepping toward the doorway.

“Wait!” Mikey grinned, wagging a finger. “We’re just saying-if you’re gonna be all moony-eyed in the kitchen, you could at least give us popcorn!”

“Out. Now,” Leo deadpanned, voice low but firm, ushering them back like a grumpy shepherd.

They scattered with laughter echoing behind them, leaving only faint shadows of teasing behind.

You turned away quickly, letting out a long breath and pressing your cool glass to your cheek. Your heart was pounding and you were very aware of it.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“They’re never gonna let us live this down, huh?” you asked softly.

He shook his head, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Not a chance.”

A pause. Not awkward. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry if that was… weird,” he added after a beat. “Just… didn’t expect…”

“No,” you cut in, then smiled, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t weird.”

He looked at you for a long second. Then, nodded, slow, thoughtful.

“Good.”

There was a comfort in the silence that followed, like the moment had passed but left something behind. Not a confession. Not even a plan. Just a mutual, quiet understanding that something had happened. And maybe that was enough for now.

You nudged his shoulder gently as you walked past him, glass still in hand.

“I’m heading back before Mikey starts narrating our nonexistent love story to the entire sewer system.”

Leo smirked, following you a step behind. “Too late. He’s probably already drafting the fanfiction.”

You both laughed quietly, and for a moment, the world felt smaller again, just you and him, and a flicker of something waiting beneath the surface.

Not love.

But maybe something that would become it,

In time.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (31 - Paradise Calling)

Chapter Summary: After several weeks of looking for her, you do eventually find Wanda Maximoff after she leaves Westview, but not in any way you ever imagined.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: violence, mention of blood and injury

A/N: The story continues in the aftermath of Wanda’s release of Westview. I’m still debating whether to stick with the canon concept of Billy and Tommy’s souls being real but bodiless since I started this story long before Agatha All Along entered the picture. Also, there might not be an update next week as I'll be out of town. Thanks to everyone who still continues to follow this story :) You guys are awesome. P.S. can you guess which mutant attacked y/n? :P // More author's notes here. // gif

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Hex dissolves completely at midnight.

By then, more and more of Westview have become accessible, its walls shrinking like the last breath of a dying storm. Throughout the wait, Monica’s order remains ironclad, which is that no one who isn’t a Westview resident is to step across the boundary.

It turns out to be the right call. Letting Wanda end it on her own terms—without pressure, or interference—is the last mercy anyone can offer. So they wait at the edge of town, in the solemn dark, while those inside slowly begin to come back to themselves.

And when the last of it winds down, Monica gives the signal. The military moves in, not with weapons this time, but with medics in tow. People stumble into the streets, dazed and hollow-eyed, like toys winding themselves up after years on a shelf. Some of them rush to scoop their children into their arms, while others just stand there, holding each other, staring at their hands like they’ve only just remembered what it means to move on their own.

It’s harder than anyone on the rescue team expected. Because how do you assess damage like this? These people aren’t injured in any conventional way. Their minds weren’t broken so much as hijacked. Puppeted. Made to smile and speak and move without their consent. It’s not madness, and it’s definitely not grief that they are experiencing. 

It’s something more…alienating. Locked in the backseat of your own body, watching your hands move and your mouth speak, knowing none of it is you. It’s the kind of trauma that leaves even seasoned therapists unsure where to begin. So the medics do what they can. Blankets for the cold, water for the dry-mouthed, and a hand on the shoulder for those who can’t seem to stop shaking. 

And you—you stay rooted at the edge of the ground where Wanda’s house once stood, silently taking in the aftermath. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at the lot you bought on a whim five years ago. It feels larger than you remembered, and standing here now, it stirs more regret than pride.

“There’s no sign of her,” Clint says as he approaches. He glances between you, Monica, and Darcy. “She’s gone.”

Monica exhales sharply. “Of course she is,” she mutters.

Agent Woo’s already packed up and gone too, reassigned mid-crisis to another urgent matter. Those left behind are burdened to help pick up the pieces.

“I guess she escaped?” Darcy offers.

You wince. “Don’t say ‘escaped.’ She didn’t—” The sentence stalls, the logic collapsing halfway out of your mouth.

Monica catches it and shrugs. “Yeah, maybe ‘escaping’ wasn’t her plan.” Then, more pointedly, “But what did you think was gonna happen? That she’d stick around? Turn herself in? Like you did, Y/N?”

Right. You’re still technically a prisoner. Still walking around on borrowed time, under a conditional release that’s quickly running out, especially now that Wanda’s vanished, and no one has a clue where she went.

You’d been hoping for a moment—just one—to talk to Wanda alone. And now, you’re starting to think your presence never mattered at all. The other you, her you, was the one who got through to her, who helped her bring down the Hex.

All you’ve ever done here was make it harder for Wanda.

“And her children?” you ask quietly, turning to Clint, your voice stripped down to worry.

Clint just shakes his head. “No sign of them. Or your copy.”

Everyone’s face falls at that. They’d all felt so real, the idea that they simply blinked out of existence is hard to swallow even if the theory always seemed to suggest that direction.

Darcy breaks the spell. “Shame, really. I kinda liked that Y/N.” She shoots you an apologetic grin. “No offense to the original, it’s just... we never got our moment.”

You manage a weak smile. “None taken.”

Monica claps her hands together. “Well, I guess… that’s it.” 

You turn to her slowly, frowning. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

Monica’s hands drop to her sides. “I mean… she’s gone. The Hex is down. Everyone who was trapped is free. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Clint gives a weary shrug. “Sometimes disappearing’s the only thing a person has left.” You shoot him a glare, but he honestly seems oblivious that his words just struck you straight on.

Before you can argue further, a young S.W.O.R.D. tech jogs up, tablet in hand.

“Uh, Director?” He gestures vaguely at Monica. “We found a vehicle just outside the old perimeter. Abandoned. Figured you’d want to take a look.”

Monica glances between you and Clint. “Yours?”

You shake your head no.

“Color?” Clint asks.

“Deep maroon,” the tech says. “Old Volvo wagon. New Jersey plates.”

Clint lets out a low whistle. “That’s Wanda’s.”

You’re already moving before the words finish leaving his mouth.

“Y/N—” Monica calls after you, but you don’t look back.

Clint mutters a curse and follows. Monica and Darcy hang back, letting you go.

You’re desperate for any sign of Wanda, anything that might tell you where she went. You haven’t run this far or this fast in years, and your lungs are burning from the effort. But the thought of her out there, alone and possibly hurt, keeps your legs moving, pushing through the ache.

Soon, just past the edge of the boundary, you spot the Volvo.

You slow as you approach, heart thudding in your chest.

Clint catches up beside you. “That’s definitely hers.”

You nod, already reaching for the handle. It shouldn’t open, but it does. The door gives with a soft click, swinging open without resistance. You slide into the driver’s seat and glance around. 

“She didn’t even lock it,” you murmur.

“The keys?” Clint asks.

You check the ignition. Nothing. Then the cupholders, under the seat, the center console. Still nothing.

“Glove box,” Clint says, leaning in through the open door.

You press the latch. The compartment drops with a soft thunk, and something slides forward: a single manila folder, edges crisp, your name penned in Wanda’s looping cursive across the tab. Your breath catches. Carefully, almost like it might break in your hands, you lift it. It feels like it holds everything you’ve been chasing.

Inside, everything is heartbreakingly familiar. The property deed you mailed Clint weeks ago. Photographs you never had the courage to burn when you first became convinced that Wanda wasn’t coming back. Letters and notes you randomly wrote to Wanda throughout the years she was gone. 

And resting on top of it all, catching the faint moonlight—

Your wedding ring. The one you gave her. The match to the one you still wear around your neck.

With trembling fingers, you turn the band over between thumb and forefinger; it’s still warm, as if she’d only just set it down.

“She left this car here,” you whisper. “Because she wanted me to find this.”

Clint drifts a few steps back, giving you space but not leaving. He folds his arms and waits, giving you time to come to terms with Wanda’s clear response at having found out you lied to her. And it’s not pretty.

After a long, brittle silence, he clears his throat. “So… what are you going to do now?”

It’s the same question everyone’s thrown at you all day, and you still don’t have an answer.

Instead of answering, you whisper, “Did I make a mistake, Clint? Walking away back then, leaving her to sort through the rubble alone, was that when everything started to fall apart?”

He exhales and lowers himself onto the curb beside the car. “We all made mistakes,” he says, rubbing a thumb over a scar on his knuckles. “But no one could have known it would lead to this. We were careless, sure, maybe blind to how much she was really hurting. But this,” he says, nodding at the folder in your lap, “this was Wanda’s pain. Her choice. Not something you could have predicted.”

“I should’ve seen her slipping. I asked you to look after her and—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t there for her like you asked. I was drowning in my own mess, trying to keep my family together once we got them back… I missed the signs.”

You nod slowly and slip the ring into your pocket. Then, flat and quiet, you say, “I’ve still got about a decade of my sentence to serve.”

“I can buy you more time,” Clint offers. “Tell them Wanda escaped. Technically, this whole thing isn’t over.”

You huff a humorless breath. “It won’t matter. I don’t want to go back.”

Clint studies you for a long moment, brow furrowed. “You mean that?”

You nod again. “The second I saw her… I wanted to take it all back. The deal. The surrender. All those years I spent trying to convince myself that moving on was the right call.”

He sits with that for a while, then says, quiet and honest, “You know I can’t turn myself in either.”

You glance over at him. “I’m not asking you to.”

“I’ve got my family back,” he says. “I’m rebuilding. I can’t walk away from that.”

“I know,” you reply. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

He gives you a sidelong look. “Then what are you thinking? You planning to go back on the run? Because you remember what it was like after the Accords, right? We didn’t end up in the Raft, but we weren’t free either. We were always looking over our shoulders.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Wanda was with me back then.”

He raises a brow, watching you carefully.

“And somehow,” you add, voice soft, almost to yourself, “that made all of it bearable.”

After a long lull, Clint asks, “What were you hoping for, Y/N? When she saw you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “Maybe that… that she’d recognize me, at least.”

“She probably did,” Clint says. “That might be why she destroyed the Hex herself.”

You shake your head, hard, unwilling to accept that. “I doubt it was that simple.” 

The idea feels impossible. You remember the look on Wanda’s face: hurt, disappointment, the unmistakable sting of betrayal. You have put that look there before, but this time it was different. This time, that betrayal caused her this guilt she now carries with her for something she’d done out of her mourning you—

When she never should have had to mourn at all.

—

With Clint’s quiet blessing, you slip into the night, becoming a fugitive once again, determined to reach Wanda before the authorities do. It isn’t enough that Wanda released the town willingly; the damage is already done. Westview’s residents remain traumatized and disoriented, and dissolving the Hex doesn't absolve her actions. This is exactly what Tony always fought for—the idea that even heroes, even Avengers, must answer to laws meant for everyone, not just hide behind the duty of saving the world.

You don’t blame them for hunting her. You just don’t trust them to understand her.

So you go first.

You swap your jacket for a plain coat, leave your comms behind, and start reaching out to contacts you haven’t spoken to in years. A woman like Wanda can’t move without leaving a ripple, and eventually, you learn to follow a pattern: unexplained power surges in rural areas upwards north. Clint checks in with you every now and then, but you don’t expect anything more. He’s busy these days—a civilian fully occupied with being a father. 

The first few weeks blur together. Deep down, you keep hoping Wanda will be the one to find you—not because she misses you or wants to forgive, but because she finally wants answers. Isn’t there at least one question she needs to ask? Maybe she hates you too much to bother. Maybe she hates you enough to stop caring about your reasons altogether.

That thought hurts more than you’d like to admit. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve put her through. You don’t know how you’ll face her when the time comes. All you know is that she’s hurting—and a hurting Wanda Maximoff isn’t just a danger to the world. She’s a danger to herself.

Late one evening, while tracking rumors of strange sightings in the forested mountains of Vermont, you feel unease settle in your gut. The trees grow denser, their branches knitting overhead, and the pale yellow moon offers little light. Shadows slither and shift across the narrow trail. You stop, breath misting in the cold air, certain now that you’re not alone.

You hold still and listen. Over the thud of your own unsteady pulse comes a faint rustle in the undergrowth. It’s too careful, too deliberate to be wind or wildlife.

“Who’s there?” Your voice is brittle, an uncertain challenge.

In the dark forest, you know you shouldn’t make a sound. But if it’s Wanda—

A low growl answers, so deep and guttural it sends a chill racing down your spine. You spin, eyes straining through the gloom, just as a shadow barrels toward you. The movement is fast, smooth, and completely inhuman.

It slams into you with brutal force, all muscle and claws—definitely not Wanda—knocking you hard to the ground.

You scramble to your feet, breath ragged, eyes sweeping the darkness in search of your attacker. The figure rises slowly, towering and hunched, its skin a sick, mottled gray. Its limbs are grotesquely stretched, ending in claws slick with fresh blood (yours).

Its face—

No. That can’t be right. Tony’s snap wiped out all of Thanos’ army. This thing shouldn’t exist. So how is it standing here? How did it survive?

“What the—” you gasp, stumbling back.

It lunges again, jaws gaping open with teeth glinting sharp and savage. You swing your arm wildly, and your fist connects with its jaw. The impact jars painfully up your arm, but the creature barely reacts, snarling viciously as it swings one massive clawed hand toward your face. You dodge by inches, claws slicing the air with a sharp hiss.

You stagger back again, trying to regain your footing. Your breath comes out in uneven bursts of fogged air. The creature circles slowly, blocking any clear route of escape. You study it, desperately searching for a weakness, but its movements remain erratic, unpredictable. 

Your combat skills are still there, but you’ve aged some, and it’s not as easy to fall back into your old rhythm and speed, especially when facing such an aggressive foe.

“Stay back,” you warn weakly, your voice trembling despite your attempt at bravado.

It snarls louder, head twitching, neck muscles spasming unnaturally as it stalks closer. You backpedal and your foot slips on wet leaves, throwing you off-balance. You hit the ground hard, skull cracking sharply against something hidden beneath the foliage. Stars burst in your vision.

As you struggle to sit upright, the beast approaches slowly, enjoying this, you realize sickeningly. It flexes its claws, taking its time.

“Wait,” you choke out, tasting copper as blood fills your mouth.

It stalks towards you leisurely as if hearing nothing. It snarls again, lips peeling back to reveal teeth sharp as blades. It raises a hand for the final blow, claws poised high—

And all you can think is how ironic it is. That this is what you craved, once.

Back when you were Ronin.

When death felt like the only honest language left, and violence was the only thing that could answer it.

You spent five years chasing this moment. And now? Now, with Wanda back in the universe. Now, when for the first time in years, you actually want to live.

Now is when death decides to show up?

Of course it is.

You laugh, or try to, but it comes out as a choked breath through blood. The creature roars, the sound tearing through the trees. And as the snow drifts down and your vision begins to fade, you manage one last word, soft as a prayer.

“…Wanda.”

—

You wake slowly to warmth, a fire crackling nearby. Every part of you feels bruised, sliced open, and carefully stitched back together. Bandages wind tight around your ribs, your shoulders, your arms. Your throat burns dry, but you're breathing. Miraculously. 

You push yourself upright, careful and slow. The world sways around you as the blanket slips from your shoulders.

Blinking up at the slanted ceiling overhead—wooden, rough-hewn, beams exposed, nothing familiar about it—you realize you’re still in the forest. The earthy, damp scent of pine needles teases your nose. There’s no electricity, just lanterns, candles, heat from flame and old wood. The furniture is simple, hand-built, and worn from use.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet sinking into a rug so soft it draws a quiet sigh from your lips. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious—hours, maybe even days.

Unsteady, you find the hallway, one hand trailing the wall for balance. You pass a small kitchen, simple but well-stocked. A kettle rests near the fire, still warm, like it was used not long ago.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the front door slightly ajar, a narrow strip of gray light slicing into the room, dust suspended in its path.

You drift closer.

Outside, there’s Wanda.

She sits on the porch steps, wrapped in a thick sweater, her back to you. Her hair falls in loose, tangled waves, longer than you remember. Despite the biting cold, she’s barefoot, her arms draped over her knees as she stares into the woods.

You stop at the doorway, saying nothing at first. 

She looks so… peaceful. 

“Wanda,” you say at last, barely above a breath.

She doesn’t move.

You try again. “Wanda.”

Still nothing. You can’t tell if she’s ignoring you, or if your voice is simply too weak for her to hear.

Of course it was her who found you. Of course it doesn’t mean anything’s been forgiven. You take a step back, and the door eases shut behind you with a quiet creak.

You head deeper into the cabin. It’s not large, but in your condition, it feels like a maze.

At the end of a narrow hallway, you find a door left slightly open.

Something pulses beyond it—low and red and constant. Your fingers graze the frame as you nudge it open. 

The hair on your arms rises.

Wanda’s there, too.

She’s floating a few inches off the ground, legs crossed. Her eyes don’t blink. They don’t move. Just glowing red, unwavering and endless.

She’s reading. The book in her hands is anything but ordinary. Its pages shift and shimmer, symbols rearranging themselves the moment you try to make sense of them.

You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come. You’re frozen.

Slowly, like she already knew you were standing there, she lifts her head.

Her gaze locks onto yours.

The book snaps shut.

[n3ptoonz]

'All That Jazz'

Pairing: Professor!Bucky/Professor!F!Reader

Fandom: MCU

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, reader is older - as in like "same age" as him (like mid to late thirties), reader is a foreign theatre teacher; speaks a different language (unspecified), reader is like the complete opposite of bucky, guys i had so much fun writing this, plot, subtle tension, technically public sx, HEELS, freaked out lover boy, body worship, yes he's wearing the suit like in the picture above, light masochism- DAMN - not proofreading allat.

Word count: 3.7k+ ... hahaha 😅

i'm trying out aesthetics/decorated posts, don't mind me🙂‍↕️

italicize text in quotations means a different language is being spoken - pictures used are not depictions

did i get this idea when i saw that quote from sebastian saying when he saw women wear heels sometimes he'd think about what she looks like only wearing heels...? don't even worry bout that bruh-

Bucky has been teaching AP US History at NYU for about five years now and has never worked up the courage to talk to you for more than just a conversation about grades or the occasional gossip about students or staff. You were extroverted and smiley. It's taken a while to get used to people calling him James instead of Bucky, but he kind of looked forward to hearing you say it in your sweet, honey-like voice. Everyday since he's gotten the job and seen you in the halls, you've worn a different color/patterned hat and stylish outfit that hugged your form just right, often tied together with a scarf around the neck. It drove him a little crazy to say the least.

Sometimes his students would tease him and tell him to just go for it already, to which he just brushes off and playfully glares at them. And there was that one time he saw you strutting towards the elevator in a blazer and pencil skirt brought together by a pair of red pumps. For the rest of that day he could only think about how you looked with only those heels on...But anyway!

Today was a slow day of grading essays before the midterm. He was knee deep in assignments and just wanted to get it over with.

You are former broadway show runner that hailed from a different country and took up teaching a decade ago in New York City. You were always so sweet and kind to everyone you've met. Theatrical and eccentric in a good way. Your hair was always uniquely styled, a few gray strands that you wore proudly. Your accent was rich as the fabrics you wore and your smile was to die for. You took particular interest in the introverted James Bucky Barnes, as you had never met someone like him before. But you found that to be a good thing.

It wasn't abnormal for you to frequently visit his classroom whether he was teaching or not. Your students often teased you too about how often you went out of your way to go to a whole floor below yours just to see him.

Three light knocks came to the door of his classroom before you popped your head in. You beamed your typical smile at him with a small wave.

"Hello, James," you chimed. "I hope I am not intruding on your grading process?" you asked, still standing at the door.

Bucky looked up from the stack of essays he had been grading, slightly startled but pleased to see you standing at the doorway. He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, offering you a small smile in return. "Hey, ah, no, not at all. I could use a break from these essays," he replied, gesturing to the pile on his desk. "What brings you in?"

"I was just thinking about the upcoming midterm and wanted to bounce some ideas off you," you explained, stepping further into the classroom. "But now that I said it out loud, it sounds...boring." you added and turned to him. "Perhaps an evening at the jazz bar down the road isn't too big of an ask?"

You looked at him with those bright, expressive eyes, your smile still playing at the corners of your lips. It was clear you had taken a liking to the reserved history professor, appreciating his quiet intensity and sharp mind. The students' teasing remarks about your frequent visits to his classroom only served to encourage you, showing you that your interest in him was not unnoticed or unwelcome.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a hint of surprise flickering across his face before a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. "An evening at the bar, huh? That does sound more interesting than grading these essays," he mused, glancing back at the stack of papers on his desk.

He folded his arms across his chest, leaning casually against the edge of his desk as he considered your offer. "I suppose I could stand to take a break from the academic world for a little while. There are a few things I've been wanting to discuss with you as well," he admitted, his blue eyes meeting yours.

Bucky knew he should probably keep things professional, but there was something about your open mindedness for life and eccentric charm that made him want to let his guard down, even if only a little.

"Tell you what, why don't we meet there around 7? I can finish up here and then join you for a drink and a chat," he proposed, already looking forward to spending more time in your company.

"Sounds perfect! I should be able to get a good amount of grading done in an hour and a half. Good call." you nodded and sauntered over to the door. "Goodbye for now. And don't even be a minute late." you playfully narrowed your eyes and pointed at him before you chuckled and left out the door; the sound of your heels receding down the hallway.

Bucky watched as you sauntered out of his classroom, your playful warning and the sound of her heels echoing in his ears. He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself but also mutter something not-so-appropriate under his breath. He ran his hands over his face and scratched his beard in thought. Thoughts of you and wondering if he just completely missed that you essentially asked him out on a date after work. Huh.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the clock was at 6:50. Bucky gathered up the graded essays and put them away in a drawer, straightening his tie and grabbing his coat--burnt orange, like his suit--before heading out of the classroom. After the short elevator ride to the ground floor, he exited the building and spotted the bar just a short distance away.

You were already at the bar with a glass of wine and swaying to the music when he walked in and spotted you. You glanced in his direction as he approached, that familiar smile flashing at him again.

"James!" you chimed and gestured for him to sit down. "Thought you might stand me up." you added in a teasing way given that he was definitely a minute late.

"Wouldn't dream of it." he said as he sat down, ordering for himself before looking back at you. "So, what did you want to discuss about the upcoming midterm?" he asked in a genuinely curious tone. He figured he play it safe, but he couldn't help but notice now that you look a little different than earlier. You weren't wearing a hat or scarf, your dress shirt was three buttons loose at the top and your lipstick was touched up. You appeared more...laidback; inviting.

You hummed and swirled the wine in the glass after taking a sip. "This is a little embarrassing," you said with a small chuckle. "I was really just finding an excuse to come talk to you. My midterms are very different from other curricula as it pertains to materials and...well, I guess I didn't want to sound too forward inviting you out for drinks on a school night." you added as you took another sip of wine.

Bucky nodded and laughed to himself. So he was correct in assuming this was like a date. Noted.

He took a sip of his whiskey as it arrived, the smooth burn familiar and welcome. "Well, I'm glad you found an excuse to invite me out for drinks," he replied, his voice deep and sincere. "Doesn't bother me at all."

Bucky allowed his gaze to linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight of you with the top few buttons of your shirt undone and your lips touched with a fresh coat of lipstick. The look was inviting, alluring, and he found himself clouded once again. All the possibilities laid bare in his mind with you sitting right in front of him. Seldom an ounce of shame.

"We could make this like a regular thing." he continued. The words left his lips before he could process the proposition but you didn't look put off by it. Not even a little bit. Instead, you gave a considering look.

"Sounds like a plan." you said, cheers-ing with his glass and finishing your drink. You leaned on the counter and just looked at him, admiring his features.

"So what does free time usually look like for Professor Barnes?" you asked as you tapped the rim of the glass in idle rhythm. Bucky took another swig of liquid courage before answering.

"Well, as you can probably imagine, my free time is usually spent in the pursuit of knowledge and learning," he began, a hint of playful weariness in his voice. "But I enjoy just sitting in the quiet sometimes. Going for walks to clear the mess that is my mind for a while, some reading, all that jazz."

He paused before continuing, realizing his answer might've been dry or a downer. "Though I must admit, lately my free time has been taken over by thoughts of a certain charming professor from upstairs," he added, his pretty blue eyes locked with yours as a slow smile spread across his face.

Good save, Barnes.

You gave him a look of 'Oh, really?' written all over your face, no words needed as you finished the last of your wine before standing up and holding out your hand.

"Would you like to dance?" you proposed. Your tone was one of why the hell not? What do we have to lose? Bucky stared for a moment, chuckling to himself. He hasn't danced since 1943, it feels like. He wasn't one for the activity, let alone has he ever had the chance to share it like this with a beautiful, talented woman such as yourself. He followed suit and finished his glass before standing up and taking your hand, a small embarrassed smirk on his face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of his eyes crinkling with joy.

"Why the hell not?" he said, letting you lead the way to the floor littered with people dancing together to the song You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To sung live. In a strange way, it brought Bucky back. To a time he thought long forgotten. A time he wanted to forget. Yet being here with you was game changer for sure.

"I have to warn you, though. It's been a while and I'm not as light on my feet as I used to be." he continued with a sheepish laugh under his breath. You waved it off and held both of his hands.

"Not a problem. Let's start steady, just follow me." you said, moving with every other beat so it wasn't too fast for him. He caught on faster than he thought. He matched your moves and rhythm in record time. This was the first time in a while he genuinely smiled. His grin was so wide and his grip on your hands was grounding.

"Someone's a fast learner!" you chirped. "'Been a while' my ass."

Bucky laughed and twirled you in his hand, taking your hands again and letting the song take him over.

"What can I say? I finally have a proper partner." he said, spinning you again. His heart stopped for a second at his own words. Did he just say that?

This time you ended up pulled flush to his chest. Bucky looked down at you with light pink cheeks as he cleared his throat. Just realizing his palm was resting comfortably on the small of your back.

"I didn't- I meant like-"

"I know what you meant." you said with a head tilt and lightly patted his chest in reassurance. You were both panting from the surge of energy that suddenly hit you both during the song. His lips pulled into a short knowing smile. As the song was coming to an end, something clicked in his brain, like he was teleported back to 1942. He held you tighter and dipped you, his face hovering over yours as if it was just you two in the room. Your gasp wasn't missed when you clutched onto his shoulders. You looked up at him like he was crazy, but not in a bad way.

When he slowly brought you back up, he saw a bright young woman in her twenties. A girl he wanted to impress, maybe get some ice cream with later. A girl he just wanted to walk around the city and hold hands with. He would be in uniform and try to sound as cool as possible with soldier talk.

Nobody else dancing around them mattered. And he knew it couldn't be the one glass of whiskey he ordered because he can't get drunk. It was you.

Maybe it was always you.

Neither one of you has uttered a word in the last sixty seconds. Just staring and holding each other. He wanted to say something first but his mouth had gone dry. He blinked and he was brought back to the present. A woman that looked around his age giving him the same look he was probably giving her.

"We should head back." you said. You saw him blink a few more times, as if to snap out of his own thoughts before he reluctantly let you go. He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured towards the exit. He didn't have anything else to say, really. This kind of thing--all of it--was lost on him. It's not like he's never been in love before, but damn it he truly thought he forgot what that felt like. What it was. What it meant to him and what it would mean for anyone he might fall for again.

Perhaps he's being a little dramatic, right? That was your job!

It was a quiet walk back to school. The university building in immediate distance yet it felt a mile away. Bucky felt awkward. Like maybe he messed up somehow with his lover boy bullshit. He had hoped he didn't. And if he did, he'd do anything in his power to fix it.

You, on the other hand, were trying to compose yourself. The attraction you felt towards him was suffocating. The tension between you two given any time you were together could be sliced in half. Now? You couldn't breathe. And the faint cologne on his collar was never a help.

The elevator ride was no better. Close yet so far. You two could barely make eye contact.

Once at his classroom, you haven't a clue why you walked in. You stopped at the door, gripping the knob for dear life. Your muscles contracted with something you haven't felt in years. That familiar sensation in your chest that spread to the rest of your body. You watched him awkwardly walk over to his desk and move some papers around like he was reading something. You could tell now that he thought he did something wrong.

Bucky ran his hand over his beard and sighed before turning to you. "I, uh," he started, taking a few steps towards you with his hand in his pocket. "If I came on too strong..."

He was still talking when you closed the door behind you and walked over to him, a finger to his lips as you pushed him backwards to the whiteboard. He looked at you with a bit of surprise. Shocked at your boldness but also that you made it clear he didn't mistake anything.

You slid your finger from his lips to his jaw, urging him to lean forward to meet your lips. You gave him a simple kiss. You wanted to pull back and maybe make a witty remark about how nervous he was, but he was activated now. You only invited him in and he's moving like he owns the place.

His hands slid around your back to hold you closer than ever. His strong arms unyielding but safe. He even made sure his metal arm wasn't using as much pressure as his flesh one.

It didn't take long for the kiss to get heated. The wine on your tongue nearly as sweet as you. The whiskey on his almost just as intoxicating. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh through your skirt, practically screaming to be released from its confines. The serum running through his veins allowed him hold his breath longer than the average person. However, Earth to Bucky, she can't breathe!

He backed away with a soft pant. His eyes half-lidded while the sound of you catching your breath filled this corner of the classroom. He could only think about how you looked with only those heels on...

"You're beautiful." he said, the back of his hand caressing your cheekbone. His gaze by itself was consuming you whole. Part of your focus was your smeared lipstick on his lips and his arms holding you like you were married for years in every timeline.

Bucky kissed you again as he lifted you by your hips to carry you to his desk. Once you were sat down he started to undo your buttons with fervor. There went your shirt in three seconds tops. Then your skirt, which took longer because he loved how it looked sliding down those thighs along with your panties. He sucked marks onto your neck as the skirt hit the floor, leaving you completely bare after he unclipped your bra without missing a beat.

He didn't bother with your shoes and you wondered why. So, when you went to remove them he stopped you, looking you dead in the eyes.

"These stay on." he said, pressing a kiss to your knuckle. He crouched down before you and started to tail kisses up your legs--tip of the shoe first. "Tell me about your favorite play." he whispered against your foot and kept kissing. You shuddered and gripped his desk. The sight before you almost too much to bear.

You started on about your favorite play, when you saw it, where you saw it, how it made you feel. Occasionally pausing in between thoughts so you didn't lose them due to this man worshipping every inch of your body. Bucky gave a longer kiss to a birthmark, smiling to himself when you softly gasped.

Once he reached your thighs, he slowly pried them open but his eyes were on your face. Watching what he's doing right. The most bizarre thing was that he was still fully clothed. His bulge the most obvious thing in the room against those tight ass pants--that did wonders for his ass, by the way.

In the blink of in eye, your lips meet again, your legs wrap around him, and he's inside of you. He groaned and cursed like he took a bite from his favorite food of all time.

You could get lost in the pools of his irises. They were just so blue. James Barnes, akin to a siren without uttering a word.

He wanted to set a slow pace, he really did, but damn it girl he nearly slipped out several times because of how wet you were from him just admiring your legs and you looked butt ass naked in only heels. This wasn't some shit you'd get back home so definitely weren't going back anytime soon.

When your heel scraped his back a little bit, he moaned into your shoulder. Your eyes widened just a tad. Bucky was tucked securely inside of you, thrusting and humping you like he'd die if he stopped. You were half hazy, trying to keep down your own sounds of pleasure but you were aware enough to lift your leg and drag your heel on his clothed back again. He moaned louder, gripping your hips tighter.

"Please," he whispered desperately. "Oh, baby, I'm not ready to be a father."

You twitched underneath him and ran your fingers through his hair, the other hand scratching his back to hold yourself back. That unraveling feeling was rapidly approaching you were seeing stars. Your breaths irregular and your walls clamping down on him. Almost like you were telling him it was okay.

"Shit-" he hissed in response as his hand slid up your waist so he wouldn't lose his grip. The pace increased in an instant and his climax was drawing near too. You felt so good against him. Your skin. Your lips. Your silky walls. The messy, squelching sound that echoed off the walls was a song he'd have on repeat. He made love to you with everything he had. Everything that was mildly irritating him today went into every stroke.

Your heel scraped against him one more time, just a little harder by accident and he was gone. His limbs weakened but he pulled out in time. Quiet, weak whimpers coming from him. Something...Something about that alone got him so excited. Maybe it really felt like he was in the 40s again. It was like sneaking into somewhere he wasn't supposed to be and fucking where he wasn't supposed to with a dame he wasn't sure he was taking home.

Your climax hit you two seconds after; an array of praises and filthy words flying out of your mouth under your breath and in your native tongue. Your back arched upwards and your feet pointed, making the heel dig into his side for a second. You clenched your jaw so a string of moans didn't wake up the entire social studies department.

Bucky huffed a heavy breath and stood up straight. His hand taking yours and pulling you up to meet him chest to chest. Holding you once again so you wouldn't fall over. He kissed you on the forehead and rubbed your back in the places that the desk definitely left marks, but you didn't look tired though. You carefully pried him off of you and pushed him backwards towards his desk chair with just your index finger, sitting him down before crawling into his lap.

"The suit stays on."

[gorey-gorella]

Ozai isn't THAT sadistic(and his gleeful sadism always has reasons):

Can people tell me anything Ozai is gleefully sadistic about besides burning the EK(enemy land), toying with Aang(the Avatar, the last Air Nomad, the 'weakling pacifist' who possibly reminds him of Iroh), and when Zuko betrayed him(traitor, loves his uncle over him, etc. And even then, it's more smirky and chilling and 'fuck you too' rather than gleeful with Zuko in the bunker)?

And even then, he started in the forest first. Let's be honest with ourselves, Ozai seemed to like burning the forest itself, not the people 100%, and he was getting hard over his power fantasy. If he wanted to start with screams and bodies, he would do it and go into a better location with more people. But instead, he is starting with a forest. A safe option. A way to project his dominance and feel badass without immediately killing random EK civilians. Remember that like, 99.9% of, if not all of his war crimes are indirect and detached. This is the first time he will have to be on a battlefield, to kill families and stuff, face to face.

Like, seriously, I feel like Ozai's sadism is grossly exaggerated, lmao. Not saying the moment without Aang or him getting a hardon over burning the EK to the ground isn't concerning, but like, these are the only moments I remember him as this hyper-sadist.

Hell, he's on an Airship, alone, high in the sky, that is already detached enough. And he still be starting with the forest, lmao. Thr Forest that is already a Fire Nation colony. Look, Ozai isn't the best at war strategy, but do you really think he completely forgot it was a colony, and forgot it was up to Sozin's Comet? He seems to like the thought more than actually being a man and doing mass murder with his own flames and watching it directly and watching hundreds of people scream for mercy. If he truly wanted that now and immediately to mass murder and actually goon to random EK people dying, as I said, he would go more towards a better location for that.

Sure, it could be 'projecting dominance', and I believe so in a way, but like, nobody in actually population dense areas are going to see that well. Burning a forest doesn't really prove shit when literally nobody can see it.

Could it be that he subconsciously was afraid of the real deal? After all, fantasy doesn't actually equal reality and how he would act if he actually did it.

Hell, as I said, he seemed to enjoy just burning the land, Wulong Forest(with nobody in it) itself.

He is gleefully in his own little power fantasy, the thought of burning the EK down and burning down shit. Not actually burning people itself. We don't know how he would actually react to burning EK people on the ground itself, and maybe, he doesn't feel ready for that. Maybe he is afraid of feeling things he doesn't want to feel. So he starts in a safe edgy target.

And as I said. Fantasising about it doesn't mean he will act the exact same, comfy, gleeful way if he actually targeted a population dense area.

No, manipulating Azula isn't sadism. It's narcissistic, manipulate and mentally abusive, but he isn't trying to make her feel lesser and weaker than him in the moments we see. If he was, then he won't be so passive and sugarcoat his abandonment of her and make it seem like it was a duty for her to stay back. Instead, he would have threatened her and say to do as he say as he is her father and ruler and this is a necessity in a very cold tone. But he didn't. He clearly was annoyed by Azula there, but he still covered it in sugar anyways. He didn't even mention Azula's lie's about how Zuko slayed the Avatar. He passively punished her. Like if he was detaching from all of this and wanted her to shut up. But at the same time, he still wanted her trust and for her to be wrapped under his finger tips. He isn't trying to prove dominance over her. He is trying to get her out of the way without sounding like an asshole about it.

Ik he technically was gleefully sadistic with Aang, Aang is different than thousands of EK people. Aang came clearly to stop him. And Aang is the scary big bad after he was told about before. And when he realized Aang was weak, well, it must have felt insulting and ironic to him, the Avatar and last Airbender is acting like a weakling coward. Perhaps he's projecting his own cowardness to Aang. It's not sadism for the sakes of it, and he possibly may be projecting onto Aang.

Scarring Zuko isn't exactly either. Zuko wanted an Agni Kai, just not with his dad. But he indirectly challenged his father to an Agni Kai. Ozai walked to him and gave him many chances to fight back, demanding him to, but Zuko not only refused, but cried and begged him to not do so. To the Fire Nation, it's a justified punishment, not excessive cruelty. To scar and banish Zuko. He scarred only the left side of his face, cleanly and tidy. It's a calculated, cruel punishment. He literally says so in the bunker. 'It was too teach you respect!'. Maybe there is sadism. But it's most likely highly cold, as in a 'he deserves this lesson and forced me to strike him' type of way. Rather than traditional sadism.

He is not exactly the most sadistic person ever. Hell, I would argue Hama is more sadistic than him.

He is rarely ever sadistic, nevertheless, gleefully so. He is not this badboy daddy dom who loves just making people feel pain because of the sakes of it. He isn't the type of person to torture innocent, random people who literally have done nothing from what I can see.

And yes, he still is a cruel man. Hell, he still is sadistic too. Just not as much as people treat him as. Very far from it, really. Sadistic isn't the first word I would describe him. Hell, it's not even the second. Might be the third, though, and even that depends.

Btw, I am talking about solely the show canon. The comics aren't canon to me. No sadistic moment in the comics counts to me because, to me, that isn't Show Ozai.

Tell me your opinions below, or if I may have missed something.

[spatialwave]

V's All That

Chapter 6 || The Lab

➥ Summary: Jayce Talis, the school's golden boy and a guaranteed pick for Prom King, seems to have it all—looks, charm, and popularity. However, when Kino presents him with the opportunity to win back Mel, his ex-girlfriend and the one who got away, Jayce jumps at the chance. The challenge? To transform Viktor, a snarky outcast who is as far from popular as possible, into Prom King instead. Jayce takes the bait, but he may have taken on more than he can handle. ➥ Word Count: 3.7k ➥ Pairing: Jayce Talis x Viktor || Arcane

🧡 beta'd by @spxllcxstxr 🩷 art by @wapimostosis 🧡 available on ao3

<- part 5.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Caitlyn’s voice cracked through weights slamming, and distant chattering in the gym. With her knees bent on the leg press, her eyes snapped over to Jayce, who stood beside her with a lost look in his eyes, pleading for any form of advice. “You lied to him and then kissed him?”

Jayce’s eyes danced to the other people in the gym, who were far from paying attention, and hissed back, “Keep your voice down.”

“No one can hear us,” she snapped, inhaling a sharp breath and shutting her eyes. “Let me think for a minute.”

The older boy leaned against the weight machine, hands running down his face in exasperation after revealing everything to Caitlyn. The bet that started with Kino, which sparked the unlikely friendship with Viktor, was making its rounds amongst the students of Piltover High. Although only two – now three – people knew of the animosity behind the friendship. Though to Jayce, there wasn’t any. Not anymore, at least.

Jayce didn’t like to think of himself as a monster, but the way Caitlyn couldn’t look him in the eye was telling.

With a heavy sigh, he broke, “Listen, I know I’m a piece of shit for this, alright? I’m telling you because I need your help unfucking this mess.”

“A mess you made,” Caitlyn reminded, her eyes opening to meet his. Surprisingly, they were soft. It was Jayce; she was biased. “But… I can tell you like him. More than a friend.”

Jayce’s cheeks burned a deep red, the colour staining over his tanned skin as those bright hazel eyes danced around the gym. He didn’t want to think about it. The feelings he had for Viktor. The confusion that came with liking another man. It was—a lot.

It was unlike anything he had felt before. He hadn’t thought about Mel in days. All he could think of was Viktor. The kiss. His smile. Those amber eyes. It was embarrassing to him.

“Don’t look so sad,” Caitlyn breathed, her laughter relieving his stress, “No one is going to judge you, Jayce. It’s a very normal feeling.”

He scoffed, meeting her eyes and raising a brow.

“Okay,” she backtracked, “No one you care about will judge you. Better?”

“A little,” he mumbled, but he didn’t believe her. She didn’t know Kino. She didn’t know his other friends as well as he did. Being different wasn’t often considered a great way to propel yourself to the top of the social ladder. It was the very reason this bet took place.

Viktor was different, and Kino didn’t like that.

“Jayce,” her voice was so gentle, and he jumped in place when he realized that she was standing in front of him. Two hands rested over his bare shoulders, finger pads pressed into his muscles, “You need to be truthful with him. That is the only way to keep him in your life. It’ll be difficult, and he might need his space, but coming clean and being honest is the only thing you can do to make it right.”

“Technically, he’s already in my life—”

“Don’t be an ass, you know what I mean,” she hissed. He winced at a heavy smack on his shoulder.

“I hear you,” Jayce groaned. Coming clean wasn’t easy, nor did he expect Viktor to ever look at him the same way if he told him. Why couldn’t it be simpler? Why couldn’t Jayce just shove the truth deep and far into the ground, and forget it ever existed? Why did he have to bring Caitlyn into the loop?

✦︎

“Am I kissable?”

The question had come out of left field. Sky was sitting at the library table in the very back, where Viktor preferred to sit. Her nose was buried into a textbook as they analyzed their final biology project together. Sitting up straight, the girl pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as she looked at her best friend.

He was slouched over, his chin in his hand as he stared at a blank page in his notebook. The hangover was killing him, but not as much as the lingering anxiety and depression that came after nights of drinking. 

“I don’t think I’m equipped to answer that,” Sky spoke, raising a curious eyebrow as she closed her textbook. She stared at Viktor with thinned lips, having been waiting to ask about what happened the night before. 

If Sky was anything with him, it was patient. 

A soft sigh escaped her lips as Viktor refused to look up or further his question. “What happened?”

Viktor shifted, albeit very slightly. The headache that penetrated deep into his skull was making him nauseous, and he wished he had cancelled his plans to stay in bed. Though when he flickered his eyes up and met with Sky’s, he felt comfort wash through him. 

“I fucked up.” He muttered quietly, and his mind jumped straight to the kiss. The one that lasted all of three seconds before he puked up the greasy dinner he indulged in at Powder’s. With a heavy sigh, that one might call dramatic, he collapsed his face into his arms that crossed over the table.

“Oh, Viktor,” Sky sighed quietly. A gentle hand stretched outward across the table and rested over his slender arm covered by the white long-sleeved shirt he layered under a black band tee. Her thumb rubbed against the fabric, a simple ministration that calmed him. “Tell me. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“I kissed Jayce,” he mumbled, his voice strained from his mouth resting against his arm. “I kissed him at the end of the night, and once we did, I threw up, and he took me home, and he hasn’t even tried calling me.” He was silent for a few beats, sitting up and speaking again before Sky could interject. “And I hate the way I sound right now. I shouldn’t be worried about my kissability, or why some stupid man isn’t calling me—”

Sky could see the panic in his eyes. A panic he hadn’t shown since Orianna was first put in the hospital when they were finishing sophomore year.

It was rare for him to break down like this or overwork himself beyond his limits. Viktor prided himself on his fierce independence.

“Why are you smiling?” He flashed a look of annoyance at Sky, his eyes wide.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in love before.” She grinned, pulling her hand away before Viktor could even attempt to swat at her. 

“Love is egregiously advanced for what I am feeling, Sky,” Viktor said adamantly, scoffing. His sunken, pale cheeks had been dusted with a soft pink colour, and he refused to look at her. Instead, he found a row of books beyond them much more interesting.

“Okay, let me reiterate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have a crush on someone who wasn’t Orlando Bloom or John Stamos—”

“I told you those in confidence.”

“Viktor,” she laughed, the smile reaching her eyes, “Just let me talk, okay?”

Viktor clenched his jaw tight, leaning back in his chair as he stared her down. She was too happy, too invested in this. Too optimistic. “Fine,” he muttered, fingers finding his pencil to toy with as he listened.

“What I want to say is that what you are feeling is very normal,” She explained, hands moving as she spoke, “I’ve had my fair share of crushes on boys, and your mind doesn’t work right when you’re caught up in them. You overthink, you worry, you are scared that you’ll mess everything up!” 

Viktor looked back at her, chewing on his lip. Well, that was one way to put it.

“Jayce hasn’t called because he’s probably thinking the same thing,” she offered the input with a shrug. “He may think he messed things up by taking it too far… or maybe he’s just not sure what to say. Boys aren’t the best at communication. Yes, that includes you.”

“Thanks,” Viktor snorted a bitter laugh. After a moment to reel in her words, he shook his head, “I just can’t help but think something is underlying in… whatever I have going on with him. Why me?”

“Or maybe you’re just not used to good things happening to you?” Sky leaned forward, chin in both hands, as she smiled, “If I were you, I’d talk to him tomorrow. I’ve never seen you quite as happy as you are with him, Vik.”

Viktor scrunched his nose in forced disgust, “Okay, yeah. Whatever. I’ll talk to him.” He mumbled, as if it wasn’t the best advice he had received in a long time. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, biting her tongue and deciding against asking what the kiss was like. She’d find out in due time.

✦︎

When Monday rolled around, both boys had no intention of taking the advice they’d been given. First period came and went, then lunch. Time ticked on quickly for a dreary, overcast Monday, and they became experts in avoidance—even in class. What had become a bad habit of stolen glances and shared notes torn from corners of notebooks turned into cold shoulders.

It wasn’t out of hatred. No. It was the very opposite that drove them away.

Viktor had grown to hate how his stomach churned anytime he set eyes on Jayce, how his gap-tooth smile made him want to scream into a pillow. Or better yet, kiss the smile off his face.

Jayce had stepped into chemistry class seconds before the bell rang, and much to his chagrin, the only available seat was next to Viktor. He had been staring ahead in class, bored and watching as the teacher wrote on the chalkboard the upcoming assignment.

It wasn’t until the sound of the stool next to him shifted on the laminate flooring that he was pulled from his thoughts. With a glance, he expected to see Sky, but his eyes widened when they landed on Jayce.

Shit, shit, shit.

Swallowing down a thick lump in his throat, he snapped his gaze forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted how Jayce slowly unpacked his books, obviously not planning on attempting to go anywhere else. Welp.

“Okay, class,” Mr. Heimerdinger said, looking out towards the students who all looked bored out of their minds, apart from a select few. “We’re going to do an exercise in class today because it appears that many of you do not understand how to neutralize acids after last week’s demonstration and pop quiz.”

There was a chorus of groans.

Mr. Heimerdinger puffed out his chest, clearing his throat, “You will work with who you are sitting with. Please flip to Page 135 and follow the instructions there. I have kindly provided you with all the materials you will need at your desk—”

The instructions, by this point, had gone in through one ear and out the other from both Viktor and Jayce. Neither of them had much trouble in chemistry, nor did they fail either the pop quiz or the hands-on demonstration given last week.

Without speaking, both boys had jumped into the assignment. Viktor had taken the task of pipetting acid into the flask, while Jayce put together the burette and filled it with a base. Minutes had passed, and both boys wore their safety goggles and lab coats in silence, working together seamlessly as if they were lab partners in another life.

“How’re you feeling today?”

Jayce’s voice cracked right through Viktor’s concentration as he scribbled down notes onto the paper given to them to fill out as they worked on the neutralization process. Looking over, he sighed and pushed his goggles up until his hair was pushed back.

“Okay, I guess. Tired.” Viktor shrugged in response, hating the way his heart ached as he watched Jayce study the burette. Making sure there was enough neutralizer, and that the stopcock was perpendicular and keeping any fluid from dropping out. “You?”

“I’m good,” Jayce murmured. He straightened up, breaking his concentration and glancing at Viktor. Even just a glance, it set his heart on fire. He looked cute, with his hair splayed in every which direction because of the goggles. It brought a smile to his face, one that warmed Viktor’s insides. “I don’t want to go to practice tonight. I could use another night lazing around.”

“Ah,” Viktor responded. He returned the goggles over his eyes. “Do you want to swirl the flask or drip the neutralizer?”

“I can swirl the flask. It’s fun,” Jayce replied, smiling to himself as he eased into the conversation better than he had worried about all night.

“Of course you’d think it’s fun,” Viktor chided playfully. He leaned forward, scooting on his stool a bit closer to Jayce as they coordinated their movements.

With his eyes fixed on the liquid being swirled in the flask, Viktor began to drop the neutralizer slowly.

“This might be a personal question,” Jayce’s voice was soft, too quiet for anyone else to hear as they focused. “But when I was at your house, I saw a picture on your wall… You and Dr. Reveck and—”

“Orianna,” Viktor spoke, his voice sharply cutting off Jayce’s. “Stop swirling.”

Jayce did as told. He ceased his movements, and just like clockwork, the liquid in the flask turned a faint pink colour. Neutralized.

Returning to the paper, Viktor began to scribble down more notes of their session, writing so fast that Mr. Heimerdinger would surely have a difficult time attempting to decipher the notes. 

“Is she your sister?”

Viktor paused his writing, out of the corner of his eye, seeing Jayce turn towards him completely, with a gentle look in his eyes. He wanted to berate him for asking something that was none of his business, but he figured, after kissing him, he had the right to want to learn more about him. Viktor wasn’t exactly known for being an open book, and although he preferred to keep it that way, it wasn’t out of necessity more than it was preference—an easy way to shut people out.

He hadn’t wanted to shut Jayce out.

“No, she’s Dr. Reveck’s daughter,” Viktor said after clearing his throat a couple of times. A beat passed, then two. He huffed, turning to face Jayce and once again pushing his goggles back as their knees knocked together. “I’m a foster kid.”

Jayce’s eyes widened just enough for Viktor to notice—a reaction he wasn’t keen on receiving. Yet another thing to be so different about. 

“I see,” Jayce murmured, watching as Viktor returned to the paper. He watched silently as he scribbled notes down, swinging a leg absently as he racked his brain for something else to say. “Is he a good foster dad? Dr. Reveck.”

“He was a lot better before Orianna got sick,” he muttered, squeezing his hand tight around his pencil as he temporarily lost momentum in his writing. A sudden jarring weakness, he fought through until his pencil no longer felt like it was going to rip through the paper.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” Viktor mumbled, writing his name at the top of the paper. He slid it over the tabletop to Jayce, fingers brushing as he took the pencil from his finger and signed his name right beside. 

“I just meant, I’m sorry for not asking sooner. So, I can be there for you if you need it.”

Christ. Why did he have to be so goddamned kind?

Viktor’s eyes softened, a rush of emotion swirling through him. This was the first time in a long time he had found a friend, especially in someone as unlikely as Jayce. Who knew—maybe something more. He forgot what it felt like. 

“Dork,” Viktor smirked, rolling his eyes playfully. For someone as nosy as Jayce, Viktor found himself quite forgiving of that fact. He, unfortunately, had developed a soft spot for him. “I should apologize for the other night. The kiss—” his voice dropped low, almost too low for Jayce to catch it. He heard.

“It’s okay,” Jayce perked up, following suit and pushing back his goggles. Viktor hadn’t looked over at him; instead, he was now focused on cleaning, and he was thankful for that. His bright red skin was a telltale sign that the kiss still had quite the effect on him.

It kept him up for hours Saturday night. And the night before. The only reason he had been dragging his feet all day and would rather go home instead of practice. It took over his entire being. Made him wonder what it would be like if Viktor hadn’t turned away, if they took it to the car. Maybe to a bed.

“You were drunk,” Jayce clawed his way out of his thoughts, fingers tapping the surface of the table. “I didn’t mind—”

“Let’s just forget about it,” Viktor spoke, crinkling his nose slightly as he settled his attention on Jayce. “Okay?”

Both fell silent, mulling it over.

“Yeah, okay,” Jayce nodded and smiled, relief flooding through him. Then, a growing sense of disappointment. For the sake of the bet and their friendship, he decided to go with whatever flow Viktor put forward. If that meant forgetting about it, then forget about it he would—even if it pained him.

Viktor, too, felt growing regret in his stomach, but he persevered past it. There was nothing good to come from pursuing the electrifying spark that had grown between them. Nothing good ever came from love. Look what happened to Dr. Reveck.

He didn’t want the disappointment that came with the only guarantee of their relationship: an end.

“Go hand this in,” Viktor shoved the paper to Jayce over the tabletop. Amber eyes settled on the mess of words, drifting up to meet those golden hazel orbs that caused a spike in his heart rate. Within seconds, he felt his hands grow clammy. Mouth dry.

Jayce smiled. That goddamned toothy smile that would surely make anyone’s knees weak.

“You’re bossy today,” the taller boy remarked as he easily slid from his stool to turn in the paper. Viktor, instead, ignored every sparking nerve in his body and cleaned up faster than anyone else ever had.

The sound of the bell rang, signifying the end of the day. A joyous reprieve from the torture that was Piltover High, and the students rushed to their lockers as Jayce and Viktor slowly pushed through the crowds side by side. 

“Hey, Jayce,” a junior girl spoke up as she passed by the duo, her blue eyes landing on Viktor. “Oh, hey, Viktor!” She beamed, and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

As they walked down the wide hallway, Viktor’s eyes flickered around the chaos of students. He’d been so good at ignoring anyone who wasn’t Sky that he hadn’t noticed how every single person who greeted Jayce had offered him one, too. He perked up slightly, hand tighter around his cane that tapped against the worn tiling.

Students were noticing him—and not being Grade A Douchebags about it. They were kind. Too kind.

“Viktor!” A girl perked up as she held her textbooks to her chest, chocolate brown hair curling perfectly around her sharp features. She grinned, stopping Jayce and Viktor in their tracks, who had hardly made it more than three classrooms' lengths away from the chemistry lab.

He blinked, eyes focusing on the girl. Someone who ran around in Jayce’s circle—a close friend to Mel and part of the cheerleading team. 

“Lest,” Viktor murmured, crinkling his nose when he realized he’d never properly introduced himself to her. Would she find it weird that he knew her name?

While his mind ran rampant, the girl grinned. Her smile was cat-like.

“You really should come to another party this weekend,” she said, eyes not even once looking over at Jayce. Invites were a thing of his past—oftentimes, he was just expected to show up. “Everyone wants to get to know you. Jayce can bring you…” she trailed off, giving him a slight nod before she brushed past him.

Viktor blinked a few times, looking up at Jayce. He was rightly shut up.

Again, that stupid smile and laugh. A deathly combo.

“You’re getting popular,” Jayce spoke through gentle laughter. Perhaps he took it a bit too far, but he couldn’t stop the way his arm latched over Viktor’s slender shoulders and had begun to tug him forward, “She’s right, you totally should come. Don’t go crawling back inside your shell after such a good weekend, dude.”

Viktor stumbled on his footing, but managed to stay upright as he followed next to Jayce. All he could do was nod.

He should’ve said no. He should’ve told Jayce that this was it and that whatever was going on needed to stop and that he wanted to go back to the way it was—but he didn’t. He said yes to the party, and yes to the ride home.

And that’s how he found himself sitting on the empty bleachers as the football team practiced, waiting for Jayce to finish so he could drive him home.

A bony hand held a pencil to a page, scribbling down notes from an earlier class he needed to jot down before they left his mind. Then, on another page, ideas for the next game they were planning for this upcoming week.

The sound of a whistle startled him from his deep thoughts, and he looked up. Squinting his eyes to work past the somewhat blurred vision that could really use a visit to the optometrist.

His eyes landed on Jayce, and his heart stopped.

The quarterback tore off his helmet, tongue slipping out from between his lips to lick at the blue mouth guard on his upper teeth. His hair was wet, sticking to his forehead, and he smiled—god, he smiled. The stupid mouthguard made his grin lopsided, and he looked oh-so beautiful as his eyes drifted towards the bleachers and landed right on Viktor.

Jayce beamed, his arm lifting and shifting the shoulder plates he wore as he waved at Viktor, who watched as Jayce’s jersey rode up his bicep, muscles flexing. 

Viktor watched, and he smiled. A smile that reached his eyes.

He gave back an awkward half-wave and decided then, albeit stupidly, that he was going to ignore the flashing warning signs that he had put up in his mind. He tore them down, threw them away and allowed his heart to soar wildly—all because of him.

A/N - Wow, thank you for your patience. It was a long time coming, and a huge thank you if you are still sticking around and reading this. I can't promise that this will wrap up quickly, but I'll do my best. :)

[thebettertraiaad]

Vamp!damian x human!reader

Note; yeah this is probably in the dc war au, mostly because I just wanna write abt it and ignore how damians a lil weird😁

Warnings!; gore, violence, he's also aged up bc i dont like pervs👁️,cannibal reader, murder, vamp!dami being a lil too creepy(he's just trying to look out for u) medication, suggestive(out of my pure morbidity) short damian(if your above 5'4)

When the war first started his immediate thought after being turned was to find you, he ignored the rumbling pit of his endless depth. Years he kept you alive, luckily you were in your house during the outbreak and alone, so you were rather clueless when he barged in a hurry.

He mostly kept you at arms length by his side, in the wayne manor or batcave where he knew it was most safest since he was there most if not all the time. Besides alfred you probably were the only human in gotham who is still treated like a person.

Now you lay on his bed, since he made you move in his room instead of the guest bedroom since it was far from his. His walk in closet was big enough for what clothes he had been able to salvage from you, and some questionable pieces too. It had already been two years and damian still looked like he did the last two years; talking about height, voice, attitude. It seemed like his aging did slow down still acted a little kiddish and playful(around you) sometimes it was hard to go out of his room, his eyes felt like everywhere even in the most random hours of morning too.

And so you made a hobby of just collecting random things like stickers or collectors small dolls to make a little still life out of pure boredom since wifi probably doesnt work anymore because no one is using it. Does he know what it means when you are human and want to stay like that since he knows the regret of watching you change from you to someone else? Yes, he wants to turn you he really does, when it comes up to your choice? He wants to let it be so, he loves you like that since the day you both vowed loyalty(as you guessed he might have took it like in death do us part)

Well he did give you a promise ring so technically marriage.

Will he grow needy and probably soon something in a form of possession/breeding kink? 100%

I think the best way to describe your relationship was like beauty and the beast but he is no beast yet is one, he doesnt look the part but he is.

Sorry had to cut it short bc of stuff!!

[colasapphic]

Idk if you accept drabbles or not but I’ve been thinking abt mom!best friend Georgia

She just recently met you and gosh she’s head over heels a bit younger then her (hella younger then her) maybe 5ish years older then her daughter and Georgia KNOWS she shouldn’t she really does but it’s so hard

Especially when reader bats those pretty eyes at her and practically begs for Georgia’s praise and since she’s been working with Georgia a lot she loves when Georgia listens to her ideas and tells her “that’s amazing peach” or even better “good girl”

And reader oh? They’re not any better Georgia in her low cut tops during summer and shorts way to short for someone who’s meant to be a mother of two reader feels like a full blown perv💔

And they both know they shouldn’t but, how could they not indulge themself one day when Georgia shirt was to short and reader was practically begging to be told how good she was? How could they not have sex on Georgia (Paul’s) desk I mean really?

They’ve already started something they shouldn’t? How could they not finish it hm?

(a/n : oh this is insaneee i love it…probably not my best work since i’m drowning in writers block but)

office siren | georgia miller

wc: 2.6k (little more than a drabble oops)

summary: you work for mayor miller after your mother helps you land the job, but paperwork isn’t the only thing the mayor thinks about filling out.

cw: SMUT MDNI, femreader, praise kink, possessive georgia, reader has anxiety

being a nepo baby was probably top five most embarrassing things that have happened in your entire life.

you were technically only hired because your mother was friends with the mayor. you had the skill, sure, but would you have been hired if not for her? you had known georgia for about a year now—some crazy shit transpiring in that time period. your mother had stayed by georgia’s side though, she was loyal like that. you had often found yourself bringing meals over to georgia during her trial, it was eerily quiet after her kids were taken, you felt bad for her.

now here you both were, a few months after the trial, and georgia was the goddamn mayor. turns out the people really didn’t like that paul randolph abandoned his innocent wife in a time of need. she stole his job right out from under him—you hate how much you think he deserved it. although there was something you couldn’t quite shake about georgia miller… how absolutely gorgeous she was. if she wasn’t your mother’s friend—and a decade older than you—you’d have asked her out a long time ago. sometimes you swear she wears those outfits on purpose, which then makes you angry at yourself because you’re ogling like a man. you assumed it was some dumb crush when you had first met her, but it had never really gone away. as you feel a nudge to your side, you whip around to snap at the person—but then realize it was georgia. and you had been standing at the printed this entire fucking time.

“darlin’ did you sleep okay?” she asks in a concerned tone, reaching out to touch your arm. you back away as if her hand was an open flame—it sure felt like it. it’s then that you can really take in her beauty, she was wearing regular dress pants but a shirt that surely was not appropriate for the workplace. you feel your gaze lingering on her cleavage before you look back to the printer, “i—guess not. i have those event plans you wanted” you respond, grabbing the papers out of the printer and turning back to her with a big grin on your face. just grin and bear it, your mother had always taught you.

instead of asking you to come to her office, she simply does the ‘come here’ motion with her finger—walking slowly to the door—you almost thought she was moving in a more seductive manner.

your heart feels like it was going to beat out of your chest as she reads through your plans, she had never been mean to you before, but maybe these ones were really bad and she’d make fun of you before shredding them and firing yo—

“these are so good, peach” she beams, placing the papers on her desk and leaning back to get a better look at you. you were absolutely stunning, she didn’t entertain younger men—especially not girls ten years her junior, but the way your eyebrows furrowed as she read through your papers, scared of rejection, then softened again when she spoke truly drew her in. when your mother had mentioned you were between jobs, she gave you this one without hesitation, maybe a little too quickly. she couldn’t help it, this way you could stay right next to you and she could admire you all she wanted, a little selfish sure—but if she had it her way, you’d never leave her side.

she remembers when she first met you, you were beautifully creative, but she never imagined she’d be able to work by your side. it was exhilarating—working with someone just as intelligent as her, she knows it would be wrong to pursue you, so she watches from afar—hoping one day you’d make the move so she wouldn’t have to.

“georgia…?”

her thoughts are interrupted by your beautiful voice and she shakes her head to clear her mind, “i’m sorry, the days are catching up to me”

“catching up to you? please, you're in your prime!” you shoot back, gesturing to georgia as if that explained everything. it did. georgia chuckled in response, rubbing her face and taking another look at the papers you had turned in, “i do have one idea that didn’t make it into the paper…” you start slowly and georgia looks up at you immediately, a soft smile making its way onto her face, “the floor is yours”

“so i was thinking about how we did that bake sale for years, but when you came to town and did a poker night—which was extremely successful. what if we switched it up every year? this year could be a carnival night…y'know it is all for the kids…” you trail off slowly after explaining, georgia’s unreadable facial expression making you more nervous about your idea. you chew on the inside of your mouth as your gaze falls onto the floor, “it’s not even really an idea—we could go back to the bake sale.” you add, your voice losing more of its strength as you continue, god you really needed to just shut up.

georgia notices the way your gaze would sometimes flicker back to her, eyelashes batting with a puppy dog stare—begging for approval of some kind, how adorable. georgia finds herself biting her finger while staring at you, but once realizing how long she’d been silent—she clears her throat, “a carnival? austin would love that” she murmurs, which causes your head to jerk up towards her—no more batting eyelashes, but a curious stare.

“see? this is why i have you on my team y/n, you really are brilliant”

georgia praises and you practically light up—georgia almost swore you were blushing by the way you avert her gaze as she desperately tries to find it. you clear your throat, more confident now as you approach the desk—placing your hands on some papers and leaning closer to georgia, “and it’s better for business. since we’d be including the kids, that means more people—we’d have to pay for all the carnival equipment, but we’d still be making profit. and who knows, maybe teenagers can tell their little friends from out of town…they show up…that’s even more money” you smirk as you look her in the eye, there’s that cunning confidence she adored, anxiety didn’t suit you. georgia finds herself leaning in, maybe to kiss you, but she aborts at the last second—turning her face and letting out a breathy chuckle,

“you’re an enigma, y/n. you’re so smart, but you get inside your own head too much, be more confident in your pitches, others are more inclined to listen to you with a good head on your shoulders” georgia advised you and you nodded, standing upright and fixing your tie. had she leaned in for a kiss? no way, you were seeing things. she was simply playing along with you, you were friends. well… she was your mom’s friend…you’re her assistant. but still…you’re kinda like friends.

“noted. thank you.” you reply quietly, leaving her office even quieter and taking a seat at the desk closest to her door—she had insisted you work there—as her assistant of course.

you work your ass off all day—desperately trying to forget about georgia, but it was hard as she always flashed you a smile everytime you glanced in her direction, like she’d already been watching you. you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until georgia slides her hand across your keyboard—fucking up what you had been writing. you raise your head to curse out whoever just messed you up, but upon realizing who it was, the words immediately dissolve in your mouth. you turn your head back to fix what she’d done, but instead she grabs your jaw lightly, turning it to face her,

“no.”

“okay…”

georgia laughs at how easily you agreed to anything she said, reaching her hand down to rub your shoulder, “i just meant it’s 10…let me drive you home i don’t want you walking” she says sincerely and you laugh, unintentionally, but when was the last time someone got kidnapped in wellsbury? you shake your head, “it’s fine, the crime here is practically just jaywalking…and that one time you got accused of murder…so crazy”

“so crazy” georgia parrots—it seemed like her voice was strained, “but i’m serious, i’m driving you home. end of story.” it seemed as though she’d already made up her mind—shutting off your computer and spinning your chair around so you can get up. and you do. immediately.

she wraps an arm around you as you both walk out of her office and to her car.

ᯓ★

the weekend was fairly eventful for you. you had hung out with your mom and georgia on saturday—finally having the time to spend time together without talking about work. it didn’t help that she looked so much hotter out of formal clothes, you had mentioned as much. well maybe not that blunt, “you look so pretty in casual clothes” had been your exact words—what if she had been offended by that?

and sunday…well. you went clubbing with hours friends. you knew you shouldn’t have—it was a work night, but they begged and cried until you agreed. you only wanted to stay for a few hours, but you ended up so wasted you landed in another girls bed. she was older and blonde. for a second you almost thought it was georgia. go figure.

you sighed in relief upon realizing it wasn’t hers or your house you were in. you ended up having to go to work in the clothes you wore to the club last night—which wasn’t that bad, since you managed to find a blazer to button and hide your skimpy shirt. as you walked into the office, you noticed the stares—who the hell wears leather pants to the office—you imagined they thought. you tried to ignore them as you walked to your seat, you just needed to stay in your chair all day and you looked normal. you tried to just focus on your work, but it was hard with the whispers and the pounding in your head from a hangover. when it feels like your head was going to explode, you see georgia approach and place a bottle of ibuprofen down on your desk—as well as a water bottle.

“you look like you had fun last night”

“you can’t even see my pants!”

“your neck.” georgia sounded mad—and truthfully, she was. god she didn’t even know you were old enough to go clubbing, let alone follow a girl home and let her mark you up. georgia fights the urge to twitch her eye, a short breath leaving her lips, keeping a cool exterior as always.

“come to the bathroom, i’ll show you how to cover a hickey.” her voice is calmer now, but there’s an edge to it. you down the pills and quickly follow her into the bathroom—where she does exactly what she said she’d teach you. all while glancing down at your pants every few seconds, “i didn’t have time to change this morning” you chuckled out—you were nervous, she loved that. georgia let her body press a little too close against yours… so close you could feel her breath on you. you felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest everytime she drew closer.

“no judgement, i’ve had my fair share of walks of shame”

“but i don't do walks of shame! or anything like that!” you don’t even notice your voice raise as you spoke, this was so embarrassing. she thought you were a total slut. god you ruined everything. you were never going to have a chance with her so apparently you found the closest version��oh my god she could never find out who you slept with.

the walk back to your desk was silent—almost hauntingly so. georgia walked slowly behind you and you could feel her gaze fixated on you, though for a reason you couldn’t quite detect. you find yourself unable to get any work done that day—thoughts lingering to other things…like georgia. more than your thoughts had wandered to her before. once the clock hit 8 and everyone was long gone, you clicked off your computer—leaning back in your chair with a heavy sigh. you’d be able to get back on track tomorrow, you just needed time to process.

“y/n, my office please”

you look over to see georgia standing in the doorway of her office, she waits a few seconds before disappearing back into it—expecting you to follow. you do… rather nervously. were you in trouble? as you walk in, you try to fix your hair as best as possible, “am i in trouble, georgia?” you ask and she smirks—which made you more nervous.

“not at all, peach! you just didn’t seem focused today, are you alright?”

“oh yeah…i’m sorry—i’ve been distracted.”

“about last night?” she walks dangerously close to you after the accusation. you step back on instinct, but she only steps closer in response—like a lioness stalks her prey. you manage to shake your head vigorously, “no! i don’t even remember it… i was … so drunk!” you try to explain but you can’t find the words, not with georgia so close to you. she only chuckles in response, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so cute” she whispers breathily.

you should definitely back away, this was so inappropriate. you worked for her, you were younger than her, she was friends with your mom! this was morally wrong on so many levels… but you couldn’t back away. it was like your feet were glued to the ground. georgia moves impossibly closer, her face just inches from yours—like she was waiting for something. you wanted to lean in and kiss her, but you hold back, waiting for her to make the first move. she was the expert after all.

“if you want me, take me, because i won’t make the first move” she whispered, but it almost sounded like she was shouting. your ears rung upon hearing that and you couldn’t help but listen—grabbing the sides of her face and kissing her. georgia returns the kiss immediately, grabbing your waist to push you up against her desk.

your breathing becomes labored as georgia’s lips make their way down your jaw to your neck, fingers fiddling with the blazer buttons. once she discards the blazer, her hands feel all around your waist, lips moving to your chest—leaving behind stains of red. your hands tangle in her hair as she kisses your cleavage, fingers fiddling with your belt. her hand soon finds its way into your pants, rubbing your clit gently before looking up at you with a smirk. you grab the back of her head, yanking her back into a kiss and moaning into her mouth as you feel her fingers enter you. your thoughts are too fuzzy to process the fact that you probably shouldn’t be fucking your boss on her own desk—or what would happen if your mother found out about this.

“you’re so good for me” georgia whispers onto your lips and you grip her hair tightly while whining, “you like when i call you my good girl?” she continues and your hips jerk against her fingers.

“yes…please—fuck” your words become jumbled, your mind was foggy and you could tell you were reaching the end. georgia presses further into you, lips venturing back to your jaw—not kissing hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

“you’re so pretty like this…fucked out on my desk” she mumbles—curling her fingers. you moan louder at that, your other hand gripping her shoulder tightly as you rut against her hand. it only takes one more curl of her fingers for you to cum, moaning her name as you throw your head back. when she pulls away you try to pull her back, to kiss her again, but she was much stronger than you in this state.

“get on home now, before your mother starts to worry” is all she says, ouch. but really, she was trying her best to keep herself from pouncing on you and reminding you who you belong to.

[batlcver]

❝Had to be pink.❞

Nodding in agreement, just like all his stuff had to be black. "Oh, but black absorbs heat!!", it's light to be technical, but either way he didn't care. It was his favorite color, he was gonna wear it all he wanted, he was gonna get everything he could in black. Apparently even his puppy, though to be fair even if this puppy was white as snow he'd still pick him, it wasn't about the coat it was about the bond.

Quickly chugging what was left of his drink before tossing it in the trash, now was the time to focus. Dropping the lead's handle to his hand from around his leash, just in case he had to hand the pup off earlier than expected, giving Eros an understanding nod. Same thing he did way back when he came to one with his father, good way to be involved, but not directly.

❝Hopefully they move us along pretty fast since I know what I'm looking for, financing is usually the part that takes forever. If there's someone ahead of you? Pshhhh, have fun sitting there forever. It's pretty early though, let's hope we're in and out.❞

Offering a look of "get ready" as his voice lowers with the hope. Shooting an approaching salesman a smile and a wave, putting on his customer service voice as he says "hey" back. Hopefully he didn't look like a man that was easy to fuck over, he did his research first. It was all in his phone even.

There's a bit of back and forth small talk, a question of petting the puppy even, before the business talk starts. Here's where it really begins. The man gesturing for them to walk and talk, walking them all the way over to where the type he was looking for was parked. It takes him a moment of consideration, looking over ones available, yet nothing struck him yet. Yet.

Listening to the man try and talk up a white one of an earlier year, shaking his head with a frown. Did he look like the kind of guy that wanted a white car? Maybe if it was black he'd consider it more than the year he was looking at. Uttering up a "nah man", before continuing onto the next one. It takes 'til the end of the line once again- what was it with today, and his perfect choices being the last ones he gets to see?- before he spies it.

❝Ah, see that's what I'm talking about.❞ Gesturing with his free hand to the SUV at the end. ❝See what I mean Eros? Now that fits, don't you think?❞

Laughing as he asks. Of course it fit, it was entirely black, down to it's wheels. That's what fit him. Was it possibly stupid of him to get a brand new, current year, SUV? Maybe? Possibly if you were like super into cars and knew more than him about it. But, like, when was the last time he got to have something brand new? Even his phone was always an older model.

Getting a good look over it, he already knows. It's set in his bones, this is what he was going to get. Turning his attention back to the salesman with a certain tone in his voice, this was it. This was the one he would test drive first, but even without that he knew it was it. Anything was going to be ten hundred times better than his current car, but you always have to test it. Or at least that's what his father always said.

Giving the salesman a thumbs up as he goes to fetch the keys. Taking a moment to circle around the thing, damn it really was all black. Giving Eros a wide-eyed look as they waited around, it kinda didn't feel real just yet, it would when he got in that financing room that's for sure. Shifting his weight as he fiddled with the lead, the sound of keys getting his attention again. Eyes lifting off the puppy as he shifts to hand him over to Eros.

❝Hold him for a few?❞

     “ I have t' grab things f'er Daddy constantly and he used t' forget b'fore th' register so. ”

     A shrug as the smaller pulls his sandwich out of the bag and tosses it into the trashcan that's near them. The sandwich hanging out of his mouth as he gives a shrug before grabbing it.

     “ ‘m a college student livin’ on god knows what sometimes, ‘m stomach’s had worse. ”

     He follows behind the other and gets back into the car with a hum. Sunglasses brought down from his hair finally to help with the fact that they're driving towards the sun. Look for shade, but don't worry about it too much. Not like he'd thought too much on it before hand. Not like it mattered since they were going to be inside, like he'd said.

     It takes a bit before they get to the dealership. Gives him time to eat his sandwich even if properly driving usually takes both hands. And he has to hand his drink to Mason to open before he can actually enjoy it. And then he's more or less chugging it since it won't be cold for long. There isn't a lot of shade, but he finds something on the lot that's just shy of a couple trees and puts down a nice dappling of light. Which then means he can wait for Mason to let him out.

     And once that's done, he's stretching out and tossing the empty coffee bottle into another nearby bin. That's what they have those outside for, right?

     “ This place s'pretty nice at least. I've never been inside a dealership so… I mean – I gave Daddy th' money and he wanted t' take care of it cuz he didn't want me gettin' scammed or whatever. So I gave him th' budget, he took it t' th' place with me, then he came out and boom a nice li'l moped. Very cute, very pink. Had t' be pink or I was gonna die. ”

     A small nod before he's going back to petting and bothering the puppy with little hums and coos. He's just so fluffy! So sweet!

     “ Oh – um – I dunno a lot about this, though, so… ‘m jus’ gonna follow you, I guess. ”

[benevolenterrancy]

so I've started reading Journey to the West, and I more or less knew what to expect from Sun Wukong going in, no surprises there. Tripitaka, on the other hand, completely knocked my feet out from under me... I am enchanted

[ffcrazy15]

"Oh so when James Kirk refuses to believe in no-win scenarios it's 'changing the conditions of the test' and 'commendable original thinking,' but when I, Bradward Boimler, can't accept the possibility of failure and retake the Kobiyashi Maru sixteen times–"

[xxplastic-cubexx]

the thing i’m most afraid abt for rivals is them somehow ruining cheriks dynamic which is bad since that’ll be how most ppl perceive it because rivals is so mainstream and popular now (most ppl are JUST NOW discovering who the hell krakoa charles is)

i cant imagine netease fucks them up AT LEAST having a cordial interaction they should be able to do that at the very least

tho i cant imagine we can get them verbally making out im sure netease will do something in the same vein. at least a cheeky Hello. or widower dialogue if netease knows where the money's at...

[spacemaverick]

i did Not feel like drawing three entire separate cats so i just edited the eyes and hair for each of them

[ii-meeple-confessions]

I HATE cobs but also i’m obsessed with how he was written. I have genuinely never seen a villan character that has made me nearly as angry as cobs does. He’s insane. He’s unforgiveable. He values nothing exept his job. He will and HAS killed for his job. He’s horrible. Actually such an amazing character and so much of that credit goes to Joshua, his INCREDIBLY skilled voice actor. Rip cobs.You totally deserved to explode❤️

Does this count as a meeple confession because cobs is the ceo. of meeple.

uhhhm uhhm uhhhmmm just in case .mephone’s favorite music is canonically ringtones according to Brian on a livestream .if yuo even care😓

.

[poetsandjesters]

Ik i sound like such a stereotypical straight woman rn but. How do i ask my bf for flowers without asking my bf for flowers

[gutsfics]

incorrect. Devi is the special youngest baby and he could get away with murder and his parets would still coddle him