#light angst (barely)

[kittytehe]

Crush

Pairing: College!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary:

Being roommates with Emma means inheriting her best friend, Leon Kennedy—the effortlessly hot, annoyingly charming guy who somehow keeps ending up on your couch, in your kitchen, and in your head. You try to play it cool (you fail). He tries to ignore how cute you are when you’re flustered (he fails harder). chaotic college romance where awkward crushes, subtle flirting, and oat milk theft lead to something much sweeter.

wordcount: - 1,350 words

You knew moving in with Emma meant her chaotic social life would become yours by association. You just hadn’t expected him—Leon Kennedy, golden boy, criminally attractive, and your roommate’s best friend since high school—to start hanging out at your apartment like it was his name on the lease.

He wasn’t even subtle. One day he was shirtless on your couch with a controller in hand, yelling at some alien invasion game. Another day he was in your kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box, asking if “almond milk expires or just gets weirder.”

You did your best to keep it together. But your brain did this thing where it stopped working any time he spoke directly to you.

"Hey, you always smell like vanilla or cookies. Is that...on purpose?"

You had stared at him for a beat too long before mumbling, “I'm a dessert in human form,” and then immediately walked into the doorframe.

Subtlety, thy name was not you.

The worst part? He noticed.

One evening, Leon plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his arm casually along the back. “So, uh... Emma says you’re taking Psych 203. How’s learning about the human mind going?”

You looked up from your laptop, trying not to swoon over his stupidly perfect jawline.

“Fascinating. Did you know people with crushes tend to act like total idiots around the object of their affection?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I’d heard that. From... science.”

There was a pause.

A knowing pause.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird around me lately,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Any theories on that?”

Your brain sprinted through a thousand escape routes, but your mouth betrayed you: “Maybe you’re just so pretty it short-circuits my ability to function.”

Silence. You wanted to melt into the couch and become one with the upholstery.

Then, Leon laughed—warm and genuine. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nudged your shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your ‘idiot mode’ is kinda cute.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing. “So you knew?”

He shrugged. “I had a hunch. Emma may have also texted me a play-by-play the night you called me ‘a tall glass of emergency services.’”

You groaned. “I meant to say ‘emergency snack.’”

“That’s... not better.”

Leon’s fingers brushed yours. Just lightly. Like he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. You stared at your hands, frozen, your brain screaming this is not a drill.

“So,” he said, voice a little quieter, “what happens next in this whole 'crush’ science experiment?”

You blinked. “Well. Typically… the subject either flees or confesses.”

Leon nodded solemnly. “And which one are you feeling?”

“…somewhere between flight and total emotional combustion.”

He grinned, biting back a laugh. “You really do say the weirdest things when you’re flustered.”

“You’re not helping,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it. He was still close. Still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

“I’m actually trying to help,” he said, softer this time. “Because, truth is—I’ve kind of had a thing for you, too.”

You blinked. “Is this a prank? Because if Emma jumps out with a camera, I swear to—”

“No prank,” he said, laughing. “Though I’m sure Emma’s waiting in her room with popcorn.”

As if summoned by name, her door creaked open and she peeked out, phone in hand. “Is it happening? Did someone confess? Are you guys gonna kiss or what?”

Leon rolled his eyes but smiled. “Emma, go away.”

“I live here!”

“So does your best friend,” he said, nudging you. “And I’m trying to have a moment with them.”

Emma made a strangled squeal and shut the door with a dramatic thud.

The room went quiet again. Leon’s thumb lightly brushed your hand this time—definitely not an accident.

You smiled, cheeks warm. “So, you really like me?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were all sincerity. “I’m pretty sure I’ve liked you since the first time you yelled at me for drinking your oat milk. You called me ‘a menace with abs.’ It was… charming.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning in just a little more. “But I’d like to be around to keep quoting it back to you. If that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, heart pounding in the best way. “It’s more than okay.”

And when he kissed you—finally—Emma’s muffled cheer from behind the door didn’t even ruin it.

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

Leon’s POV – Three Days Earlier..

He wasn’t trying to fall for his best friend’s roommate. Really.

But the first time you mumbled something like “Leon Kennedy, walking thirst trap” under your breath—loud enough for him to hear as you tripped over your own shoelaces—something in his brain short-circuited.

He had smiled all the way home that night, even when he walked into a lamp post.

At first, he’d chalked it up to harmless flirting. A few jokes, some teasing, the occasional weirdly specific compliment (“Your hair looks like it belongs in a very clean action movie.” What did that mean?). But then he started noticing the little things.

Like how you always looked away when he caught you staring.

How you fidgeted when he sat too close.

How you always remembered how he liked his coffee, even though he’d only mentioned it once.

And how—when you laughed—it kind of echoed in his chest for longer than it should’ve.

That’s when he knew he was in trouble.

He tried playing it cool. Tried to act like he wasn’t low-key counting the days until Emma invited him over again. But then she caught him scrolling through your Instagram at work, and that was the end of that charade.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him. “They like you back, you know.”

Leon blinked. “What?”

“Leon. They call you things like ‘certified menace with a jawline’ when they think I’m not listening. Ask them out already.”

He spent two days psyching himself up. Day one: complete failure—he just asked if you had any ketchup. Day two: also a failure—he made it to the living room but chickened out and started a conversation about mushroom-based protein.

Day three, though? That was game day.

He flopped on the couch, started with casual banter, and fully expected to keep things surface-level until you dropped that whole “people act like idiots around their crushes” line.

His heart did something weird.

And when you called yourself a dessert?

Yeah. That was it. He knew he had to say something before he combusted—or kissed you mid-sentence, which, while tempting, might’ve been poor form.

But when you looked back at him with that hopeful, deer-in-headlights kind of smile?

He was gone.

Totally and completely.

[radiation-bird]

"Father?" A weak, raspy voice calls out from the dark cell of the hanging leather bag. It knows it wouldn't be anyone else, and it knows it's time in this bleary, barely awake state will soon end. Father never shows for any reason, other than to put it back to sleep. To maintain the seal around it.

Almost like a father tucking his child into bed.

The monster in the bag was never a child, though. The monster in the bag was made fully mature, a shard of torn out fears. Irresponsibly. Aren't many children made irresponsibly? Yet the monster was never anyone's child. Never anyone's baby. Never anyone's heart.

Would things have been different if it were? Would fear and madness have eaten and scratched and tore away at it so? Maybe all it needed was to be tucked in, kissed on the forehead, and told the monsters have all been chased away. Maybe all it needed was to be held and coddled. Loved and cradled. Sang a lullaby and allowed to curl up knowing someone warm would still be there come morning.

Fear consumes, but a father's warmth can chase that away. Too bad it was never a son. Too bad he was never a father. Too bad it will never be held like only a child can be held.

"Go back to sleep, Asura."

A voice from outside replies. So different from what it once knew.

Higher pitched.

Nonthreatening.

Silly.

Why did he change? Where's the voice it knew? Who did he change for? He never changed for it. It never asked for change. Is this just a reminder it was never a child?

Never his child.

Never will be his child.

Only a monster, born of fear, born mature, born irresponsibly. But is anyone actually born mature?

The thought of how unfair it is vaguely drifts through its mind as the dark of slumber clouds its thoughts.

[szilverer]

unfortunately, it was inevitable for my ghostie to marry their brainwashed stalker, but they're still making it a punishment for him.

(ya might be wondering damn what makes someone inflict poor edward on themself? well, to put it simply. you take what you get)

for starters, this ⬇ was the first dream i came across after my 8 year hiatus.

so i was like, oh, ok. love? what love?

guess chasing love is a main theme for them now. good luck rei. you woke up alone, and you have no family whatsoever. you certainly don't care about that right now, but you will, your ambition will make sure of that.

cue a string of unsuccessful crushes/love interests that were either using them, only interested on something they owned, or just. straight up made their heart skip several beats and then left. (i was also focusing on LF so hard i skipped on acquaintances, and didnt start/continue MYN and other storylines that could've given them possible npc friends/platonic interests. i also thought the bewildering procession needed 125 base persuasive, which i didnt have at the time)

i feel like if they had one (1) meaningful connection that wasn't scheduled to move on without them by the end of the ambition, if there was one (1!!) person they felt would consider sticking around by their side. edward would be deadward. 100%.

but they didn't

they didn't have anyone.

this blond weirdo was the only person that would stay by their side no matter what, at least for a while, and that was only because he had no actual choice in the matter.

this marriage represents reisz giving up on chasing love. pure and simple. after months of having people to come back to they'd be left with nothing. truth or not, this was the mindspace they were in. they were just. so tired

so yeah how could they possibly not take this opportunity to assure there would be at least someone out there waiting for them. that might as well have been the only chance they'd ever get to walk down an aisle anyway.

[canisonicscrewyou]

Unpacking - Forgetting Rory Williams Chapter 12

All is settled. All is well. There are no long-term consequences to anybody’s actions, don’t worry. Everybody's doing fine!

Birthday chapter (for me) !! This chapter is about 7k words!

Forgetting Rory Williams is a Dr. Who s7A(+s12) AU following the series of events after a wristwatch resets, and reveals that Rory Williams was the Master the whole time.

Chapter Warnings/Features: When you come back from the dead and you're the only one who notices that something is wrong. Surgically removing the part of yourself you deem broken and being surprised that there's a gaping wound in the shape of it left behind. TenTrauma. Amy and Rory getting to briefly catch up! The haunting, confusing visage of an old-future friend!

Chapter Suggested Listening: Personal Jesus- Depeche Mode, Help I'm Alive - Metric

FRW Spotify Playlist | FRW YouTube Playlist

[giggly-squiggily]

Hiya squiggly! I always love when you open your requests, so I’m really excited for this! This time Clemont is the (unlucky) winner of my attention, so may I request something with him? I know that’s pretty vague, but the only thing I could think of was a comfort thingy with him and the reader, but I know you already have one of those written (very lovely by the way!) so maybe something with him and Bonnie? They have such a cute dynamic! Whatever you decide, I’m sure it’ll be great! Once again, my apologies that this is kinda vague, but thanks for taking the request and have a great day (or night!) -⚡️

BABIES! Ahh god I love these two so much, your honor! Originally this fic was gonna be angst with some comfort elements, but after thinking on it I revamped the entire thing and just made it sibling fluff and happiness cause yes. I've gotcha covered, friend!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@gladdygirl18 @rachi-roo

Bonnie bit down a sigh as she watched her brother disappear once more in his room, the door shutting with a soft click. It’s been nearly two months since Ash left for Alola, and ever since there seemed to be a permanent cloud hung over Clemont’s shoulders.

Sure, Ash wrote to them anytime he could, and those letters always seemed to brighten him up, but it didn’t seem like the joy lasted that long. As quickly as it came, her brother was back to quietly moping; putting on a brave face when needed but ever stuck in his head.

“Brrr?” Dedenne bumped Bonnie’s hand, snuggling close as the girl carefully picked them up.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I’m worried for Clem.” She hummed softly, rocking on her heels. “It’s not good for him to stay in all the time. He’ll just keep working on his inventions until he drops.”

More thoughts passed, when suddenly she had an idea.

“I know what to do.”

~~~

“B-Bonnie?” Clemont blinked when he found her in front of his door a week later- spread out like a starfish against the cool wood. “What are you doing?”

“I’m blocking you out! You’re not going in there today!” She declared, puffing her cheeks stubbornly like her Dedenne- who interestingly enough was also posed exactly like her. “You’ve been hiding away in your room long enough! It’s time we had a day out!”

“Huh? Yeah- sure, that sounds fine. But I-” He gestured, but Bonnie was already grabbing his arm, pulling him along.

“No buts! You’re coming- right now!” She declared, marching him to the door with such determination he was forced to follow along. “We’ve got the whole day planned out, isn’t that right, Dedenne?”

“Chew!” The mouse squeaked in glee, bouncing beside them as they left their humble home.

“Oh dear..” Clemont sighed, accepting his fate as the warm sunshine touched his cheeks. When his sister wanted something, it was best to go with it.

~~~

Luminous City had many attractions. While it was especially dazzling at night, it didn’t fall short during the day. Bonnie skipped ahead, her hand in her his as they passed by crowds and Pokemon alike. Billboards flashed various advertisements: one about an electric gym leader from overseas caught his attention the most. She looked strong.

“Oo, it’s Iono! Word is she might appear in Kalos soon! They say she’s gonna make her debut here in Luminous City! Be ready, Clem- you might have some stiff competition when she arrives!” Bonnie grinned over her shoulder as they watched her add play for the hundreds of faces watching alongside them. “She’s pretty. Hey- you should totally ask her out when she gets here! I could have a famous streamer as my sister!”

“B-Bonnie! That’s not- whoa!” Clemont went to argue, but Bonnie had pulled him further until they stopped before a familiar place.

“Here we are!” She cried, arms high and smiling big as she did a twirl before the steps. “The Luminous museum! Home of all kinds of funny machines!”

Clemont gaped, eyes wide as he stared at the building. “Wha…Bonnie, are you sure about this?”

“Why would I not be?” She tilted her head curiously, confused. “Do you not want to be here? I already got tickets.”

“What- no, no not at all! I’m just- oh, nevermind. Come on!” Like a little kid in a candy store, Clemont practically sprinted to the doors, just barely grabbing the ticket Bonnie gave him. Behind him, he could hear her giggling.

~~~

“Bonnie look! This is amazing!” Clemont called out to her, eyes sparkling like gems as he pointed at some rather unique contraption. Bonnie couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Even her brother’s explanation- well, ramblings- didn’t help her understand its purpose.

Smiling and nodding, she let herself look around, taking in the sights around her when-

“Whoa!” She gasped, eyes big as she pointed. “Look at THAT!”

“That” turned out to be a massive Dedenne plush- the ones that cost a pretty penny in the toy stores around Luminous. It was perched with a number of other plushes and prizes as two men gathered a crowd.

“Come one, come all! Guess how many Magnemites are behind the screen and win a prize!” The man in white called out, charming the audience with a dazzling smile.

“Play as many times as you wish; but don’t get too cocky. The number changes after every win! Let’s see who’ll win the first game!” The man in black added, winking and making the crowd giggle. Bonnie felt her heart race with excitement- a guessing game!

“Wow, that must be hard to do.” She mused, finding herself joining the crowd. Next to her, Clemont was quiet with calculation, eyes flickering and mouth moving in silent numbers. “I bet it’s gonna take all morning to guess-”

“You there- the boy in the jumper! What is your guess?” The man in white called out, surprising Bonnie. She looked up at her brother as he raised his hand.

“27 Magnemites.” He said confidently. People blinked, looking towards the pair.

The screen fell back, revealing…

“That’s correct!” The man in white announced, the buzzing pokemon floating about the room and dazzling the crowd. “Come forward, sir and claim your prize!”

“Can my sister pick? I want her to have it.” He asked, gently bringing Bonnie forward. She looked back at him with wide eyes, finding him gently smiling at her.

“Are you sure?” She asked softly, brows furrowing when he nodded. After a moment looking over the prizes, she nodded.

“Okay- I know what I want.”

~~~

“Bonnie..you really didn’t have to.” Clemont looked down at the Heliolisk plush in his arms. He didn’t see it when he got there, but all but gaped when she returned with it. “You could have got your Dedenne. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“I liked Heliolisk more.” She shrugged causally, skipping along. “You always use it when you battle- he’s your favorite, right?”

“Well- one of them, yeah..” He couldn’t deny the joy he felt when she gave him the plush. It was so soft and cuddly, the perfect shape and stitching too.

Only… “Hey Bonnie-”

“OH!” She squealed suddenly, pointing at a stand nearby. “Crepes!”

His stomach growled involuntarily, making him blush. Bonnie giggled as she ran over before he could stop her.

Clemont hummed in thought as he watched her order them, his thoughts running wild.

~~~

“Mmm! I love crepes! This has been such a great day!” She smiled around her snack, cheeks pink and smile big as the flavors melted on her tongue. “What do you want to do next, Clem?”

“Bonnie..” Clemont’s voice made her pause, halfway through with her bite. “What’s really going on?”

Chewing slowly, she looked out at the people passing by, thinking of her answer. “Nothing really- I just really wanted to spend the day with you, that’s all.”

“I don’t think it’s just that. You took me to the Luminous museum- where we spent the majority of the morning in the inventions section- then when we won that game, you picked out my favorite Pokemon instead of yours. Then you went ahead and bought us crepes even though I know you love ice cream and I could have paid.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “So what’s actually going on?”

Caught. Red handed- no passing go. Bonnie ducked her head in defeat. “Okay, you caught me. I wanted to cheer you up.”

“...What?” He blinked, surprised. Bonnie nodded.

“You’ve been so sad since Ash left; don’t tell me you haven’t- I know you.” He shut his mouth before any denial could escape. “I didn’t like seeing you like that, so I had this idea that if I took you to all your favorite places today, you’d be less sad.” She dared a peek, hiding some behind her crepe. “Did…did it work?”

Clemon gaped at her, then he laughed. “Boohonnie! Oh my- come here.” He reached out, pulling his sister close and hugging her gently. “Bonnie, you’re too sweet. I love you so much.”

“Heh, I love you too, big bro.” She grinned, hugging him back and relaxing in his arms. “Seems like you’re finally returning to normal, huh?”

“I do feel better. Thank you- really. I hadn’t realized I looked so sad; sorry for worrying you.” He patted her head gently as he let her go, watching her finish off her crepe. “I’ll be okay- we both will. I know Ash isn’t here right now, but he’s always willing to visit. Maybe we’ll see him again some time, yeah?”

“Hehe, for sure!” She tapped her last bite of crepe with his, finishing it with a smile. With their snack finished, Clemont got up, dusting off his hands and offering one to her.

“Come on- let’s go back to the museum.”

“You're gonna look at all those inventions again, huh?”

“Nope- there’s a Dedenne plush there I want to win. The guy said we can play as many times as we want, right?” He smiled at her booming grin, laughing when she practically dragged him there.

~~~

Bonnie was asleep, her new plush cuddled against her chest and her actual pokemon resting on top. Clemont smiled at her as he quietly shut her door, returning to his own room. Their day was a great one- more sight seeing around town followed by food stands and games; his feet hurt at some point but his heart was happy.

As he closed his door, his phone pinged, a familiar name across the notification.

Wanna V.Chat?

Laughing, he texted back his response before setting up at his computer, smiling as the ocean greeted his eyes.

“Aloha from Alola!” Ash cheered as he came into view, dressed in shorts and one of the local flower shirts. He was already radiating tourist energy. “Clem! I was wondering when I was gonna hear from you today!”

“Heh, sorry- I got busy.” He leaned in his hands as he took in Ash’s face. He had only been there for a short time, but his skin was bronzed and his smile was all the more radiant. It was a comforting sight to hold. “I meant to call you earlier, but Bonnie decided we were having a day together.

“Aww! That sounds so fun!’ Ash grinned as he sat down on the sand, adjusting his camera accordingly. “No worries- I was getting over the jetlag anyway. I don’t think I would have been as talkative then vs now.” That and the time zone difference meant it was easier to call at this hour. While Clemont’s sun was setting, Ash’s was just coming up. “You look happy.”

“Oh-” The blonde suddenly felt guilty. “Sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re happy.” The brunette smiled at him- genuine and warm like the sun. It never failed to make him blush. “Seeing you doing so good makes me happy; you tend to overwork yourself a lot. Try not to push it.”

“Are you and Bonnie secretly coordinating?” He asked with a raised brow, making Ash laugh. Oh what a bright sound. “I really should tell her I’ve been calling you. She was worried about me today- she’s gonna be angry when she finds out we’re in touch.”

“Hehe, maybe.” Ash laughed again, somewhat sheepish. “Hey- why don’t we make it a monthly thing? The three of us, Serena- we can all get on call together and catch up? I think it would be nice.”

“Yeah- that sounds good. Do you want me to share this number?”

“Nah. We can make a new one.” Ash decided, much to Clemont’s surprise. “I like this one being just us, you know? Call me what you want but…I kinda only wanna see your face right now.”

Clemont blushed more, and even Ash’s cheeks were red. If they were in person, the blonde could picture him gently brushing back his bangs, leaning in to-

“Hey uh- I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.” Ash jumped in when the silence stretched, coughing some. He was clearly thinking the same thing. “This summer the place I’m staying at opens up to visitors. You can rent it out and have people stay for a month or so.” Ash fiddled with his hands, cheeks on fire as he shyly smiled at the camera. “Do you..want to come by? I mean to visit I mean.”

Clemont stared, taking in the new information with wide eyes. Ash quickly scrambled.

“I mean- if you want to! We can bring Bonnie and Serena- or just us, wait stop that Ketchum- but yeah! I can get the arrangements made; I’ve done some favors here and can get you a good deal on the rooms- why are you laughing?” Ash blinked as Clemont giggled helplessly, hands over his mouth and cheeks pink.

“I’m just- I’m just so happy right now.” He smiled, looking up at Ash’s eyes in the camera. “Yes. I’d love to see you this summer. If you’d have me.”

Ash brightened, nodding. “Of course I will! It’s a date.”

So it was. Clemont couldn’t wait for Summer.

Thanks for reading!

[wendigoruble]

Don't Tell: Very short One-shot

Trixi tells Robbie something important.

"Ugh that Sportaflop is just- just!! Ugh! I cant do anything without him flipping about! Him with his muscles and his crystical,"Robbie makes mock beeping sounds and taps his chest with his fingers,"Oh someone's in trouble! What do they see in him!? His great attitude!? His smile!? It's not hard to smile! Why I-" 

"Hey Robbie!" A voice calls out from behind him.

Robbie whips around and he's met with the girl in red.. Tricky? That sounds right. She's looking up at him with this almost knowing glint in her eyes. He frowns and stands himself up right with a huff.

"What do you want Tricky?" 

"Its Trixi! I just noticed you watching the basketball game they're having. Did you wanna play with them too? I bet they-"

"No! Why would I way to play with them? I hate sports!" Robbie cuts in.

"You've been watching them for twenty minutes,"Trixi reasons as she looks back at the court. Sportacus is now sitting on the ground to rest with a happy little smile on his face,"I just thought you might like to play... Sportacus would like it if you played." 

Robbie opens then closes his mouth. Something here feels off.. It feels like the red kid knows something that he doesn't and he doesn't like that one bit. He narrows his eyes and leans down to her level. With his chin tilted up slightly he asks with an annoyed sing-song tone.

"Why do you care about that?" 

Trixi takes a step back and the seems to be thinking for a moment. Maybe weighing her options before she responds with a,"Sportacus told us he likes you." Its said with an air of certainty and almost smugness.

"WHAT!?" Robbie shoots back up and nearly slams himself into the wall in doing so. He doesn't know how to respond to that. He doesn't know if he actually can. Sportacus likes him? But Sportacus likes everybody! What weight does that hold to him, especially coming from a kid? 

Before either of them can continue their conversation, as if on cue, Sportacus runs over with the white and blue basketball still in his hands. He looks concerned as he glances between the both of them. 

"Are you okay? I heard yelling." 

"We're fine,"Trixi smiles,"I was just telling Robbie about how much you like him."

"I like everybody!" Sportacus laughs softly and puts a hand on his hip,"Even Robbie, deapite our many differences." 

That doesn't seem to be the response Trixi wanted to hear but Robbie certainly is blushing up a storm and grumbling as he walks away from the situation. Once the villain is out of sight that's when Sportacus looks at Trixi with slight concern. If his ears were exposed right now they'd be laying flat back. He kneels down to her level and sets the ball aside.

"Trixi, that was very rude what you just did." He says calmly. 

"But you said you liked him! I heard it, you said it yesterday! "

"I know that, but you can't go confessing peoples feelings for each other like this. I wasn't ready to tell him yet. This can make people very uncomfortable. Robbie seemed very uncomfortable with this, I would have liked to tell him myself."

[copper-meadows]

When Bruce took him in, Jason was hesitant to go back to school.

He knows he's smart, being placed into advanced reading in fifth grade does that to a person. But after spending the better part of his childhood caring for a mother so sick he starts to skip school... things like Lord of the Flies become obsolete.

Then his mother dies, and he drops school completely to fully focus on his survival. He tried to go back once, but the office tried to sick social services on him.

So, when he's not scrounging around for something to help aid his survival, he's at the Gotham Public Library to fill out his education as he sees fit. Most of it is classical reading and occasional fiction. He does learn a lot about cars, though.

Batman takes him home, and despite no longer being completely unsure of where his next meal comes from, he spends most of his day trying to reinvent a schedule that doesn't make him go crazy. Robin can only take up so much time before even that makes him go mad. So, Bruce suggests he go back to school.

He's supposed to be a sophomore. At least, that's what his age says, and he's technically tested into 11th Grade Writing. The school barely lets him join halfway through the year as a freshman due to his lack of formal education and math scores.

Despite a huge ego blow and definite self-confidence issues, he actually really enjoys school. His favorite teacher is actually an art teacher, because she's nice and grades on effort, not skill. He's even made a few tentative friends. Even if he gets sent to the office for beating the crap out of a kid picking on some middle-schooler for being considered to skip another grade, that's his business, not the teachers'. Besides, he knows he's smart, and that's what matters.

Then he dies.

He spends the next couple months after he wakes up a husk of who he is, barely able to string thoughts coherent enough to get himself fed and find a place to sleep. After that, he spends his days in some old compound surrounded by personal tutors and taught by what might be the oldest family alive.

Then, Talia tells him about Batman's new Robin, and he feels like a used car part that failed to make the car run again to eventually be replaced by a new car entirely. He starts researching as soon as he gets out of the compound.

It's weird, cause this kid used to be in his math class and barely spoke two words to him despite sitting right next to him. Now he's jumping around wearing Jason's old colors.

A kid, who was healthier when Batman picked him up. A kid, whose parents were still alive, who never had to want growing up because he already had everything ready at his beck and call. A kid, who despite skipping school to galivant around with Bruce, is still three years ahead the academic norm.

Tim got everything he wanted and more, and Jason was held back.

Isn't that just the kicker?

[sonippep-hohu]

Hard Times...

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[cassorpa]

Part 1 of an Andy & Felix short!!

Foreword

I know I should be doing Quinn's background but I had this idea and I had to turn it into something. This was written quickly for fun so I don't expect that it's top quality and I hope you don't expect that either. These shorts aren't a part of the main plotline which will be what everything builds up towards but they do help to pad out the world and the timeline and includes extra background and detail that may not otherwise come up.

STORYTIME MOFOS TW// Violence, Knife Crime, Implied Self Harm, Not sure if there are any others but js watch out!!

"Shit!" Mumbled the younger person as he rifled through his crossbody bag as they walked away from his house, "I left my fake ID at home."

The older, scruffier person responded nonchalantly, "Maybe you won't need it?"

"No I definitely will." A hint of panic edged its way into Andrew Palmer's voice, "Wait here I'll be literally five minutes." And with that he took off running back towards the small semi-detached council house, hurriedly tugging at the zipper on his bag attempting to unjam it and seal the bag. In his frenzied attempt to move the immovable zipper he yanked on the bag just a little too hard and sent his keys flying.

"Shit!" he repeated, a little louder this time. Andy couldn't see where the bundle of keys, and an excessive number of keyrings, had landed in the dark of the 10PM light. The boy reached into his bag, through the small opening left by the jammed zipper, and pulled out his phone, struggling to wedge it through the too small hole, and turned on the flashlight. Frantically swinging around his phone in the darkness of the dying street lamps, he searched for the glint of light reflecting off of his new silver house-keys. He swept his phone over a pile of loose bricks and on the concrete pavement beside it he saw the familiar pink heart keyring Samantha had bought him when they went to Brighton together for that concert. Andy let out a yelp of accomplishment, swept up his keys and kept running, keeping a tight grip on his bag to ensure nothing else fell out through the opening in the top.

A few minutes later he arrived at his home, and placed his hand upon the door handle. Just as he went to push down upon the handle and enter the house he paused; how would he explain to his mother where he'd been? As far as she knew he was still in his room. He walked around to the side of his house and wedged his wide-set feet between the wooden slats of his fence and climbed over the top just as Felix had taught him almost 18 months prior. The slightly rusted ladder lay where it always did, around two feet to the left of his bedroom window against the wall leading up to a small segment of roof above the houses kitchen. He began to climb, ensuring to walk as lightly as possible so as to not alert Sandra Palmer to his presence. When he reached the window, which was covered by a thin layer of grime as a result of years of being unable to afford window-cleaning, he wedged his finger into the small gap between the window and the frame and pulled it open just wide enough to slip his slender body through the opening.

Okay. He's in. Now, however, there was another problem. Where the fuck did he put his ID. Maybe it was in his battle jacket? He scooped the light blue denim jacket off of the floor and took a moment to admire the poorly sewn patches and the army of badges across each breast and then he plunged his hands into the pockets rifling around in search of his ID. Nothing. Where else could it be? It wasn't on his bedside table. Not on his desk. Where was it? He spotted his warm pink backpack from across the room. It was adorned with just as many badges as his battle jacket but they were slightly more evenly arranged. Maybe it was in there? It wasn't in the main pocket. The front pocket was his last hope of having anything to drink for the night. He pulled the zip open, or attempted to anyway. It was jammed. He pressed around the pocket attempting to feel the contents that lay within. Long. Rectangular. Thin. It was his ID. It was in the pocket. Which was fucking jammed. Fantastic. In a moment of desperation he reached under his bed in search of the shoe box which lay in the abyss beneath. He pulled open the lid and dug through the abundance of bandages, masking tape and plasters to find the box cutter which was buried at the bottom.

"I'll fix it later." He muttered to himself as he sliced through the fabric of the bag to retrieve his fake ID. Finally. Andy stowed his blade back inside the box which he promptly slid under the bed before dropping the backpack back where it belonged. Shit. The bag made a loud thud as it hit the ground and he heard his mother call out "Andy?" Her voice had a slight hint of concern. She hadn't seen much of her son as of late due to her brutal work schedule. But it was more than that, he seemed… withdrawn. "Are you okay?"

Andy shoved his ID into his handbag and made a dash for the window. In his haste he forgot to shut it behind him. He didn't even go for the ladder to descend from his roof, instead opting just to drop from the edge. The drop wasn't far, maybe 7 feet? 8 at most? He bent his legs as he hit the ground, just as Felix instructed, which absorbed most of the shock from the landing. His legs still hurt. Sandra watched from the open window as her son jumped the fence with relative ease. "For fucks sake." She whispered to herself, more upset than angry. She was much the same at his age but she'd hoped to give him a better life than she'd had. It was clear to her now that she had failed.

There was a strange sense of exhilaration that came from executing such a narrow escape. He laughed as he ran back down the road, determined not to make his friend wait much longer but as he laughed a hint of guilt edged its way into his head. He did truly love his mother and indefinitely appreciated how much she worked for him but sometimes he just needed a little… more. As he continued to run, he pushed the thought away from his head, instead opting to focus on the night ahead of him.

Felix was standing right where Andy left them. A smile spread across Andy's mouth as he spotted his… 'friend'. Wait. Felix wasn't alone. There was someone else. As he got closer he realized that they seemed afraid. He crouched by the pile of loose bricks where he'd dropped his keys, around 10 feet from the confrontation.

"Don't try to be funny, don't be fucking brave, bruv." The voice was strangely high considering the wide frame of the other man. "Just gimme your shit, yeah G?"

A mugging. Andy began to walk towards them both, thinking that if he was outnumbered maybe the robber would leave. As Felix spotted him they glanced at him, a pleading look in their eyes that said "Please go." Why were they so afraid, its not like the robber was arme- Shit. A glint in the light. A long rectangular blade split into multiple segments, each one a razor sharp parallelogram, encased in a red plastic coating. A box cutter. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Andy turned, his heart pounding, threatening to shatter his ribcage and burst through the dark flesh of his chest in a bloody explosion. No. An explosion was too tame an expression for the strength of his nerves. A nuclear blast. That was closer but it still fell a little short. He moved his muscles in preparation to start running but in a split second he made an instinctual decision that his brain screamed at him not to carry out. No. No I can't. He cried internally as his body moved of its own accord, slowly sneaking towards the brick pile as Felix fished their wallet out of their jacket pocket. Andy grabbed a brick from the pile. The weight felt wrong in his hand, the balance was off. He walked up to the heavyset man, who he now noticed was not heavyset at all instead he was a rather skinny man in an excessively large puffer jacket. This did nothing to quell his fears. Ok, here goes.

The man fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. He screamed at Felix, cursing them out in accent so thick that neither of them could understand. A small amount of blood had splattered onto Andy's hand, the deep red heavily contrasting the dark black in the light of the street lamp which flickered above them. He froze, the brick still in hand. He just stood there. Andrew Palmer, the wholesome member of the Pit Fiends, had hit someone in the back with a brick. He just stood and stared at Felix whose eyes had gone from being wide with fear to narrow and hardened with determination. They retrieved there wallet from the screaming man who lay upon the floor the blade dropped at his side as he writhed around in pain.

"Andy grab his knife." Felix said in a deadpan voice which betrayed betrayed none of their prior panic.

Andy did not move.

"Andy?"

Nothing. Felix bent down to take the box cutter and slid it into their pocket. Andy was still unresponsive so they grabbed his arm and led him away into the night, brick still in hand.

Afterword

This was quite fun to write. It kinda shows how dedicated Andy is to his friends. To be fair, in the next part, it becomes even more clear how big this moment was for him. Andy doesn't really like doing bad things. Teenage rebellion is one thing. Sneaking out. Drinking. Political protests(which are more than teenage rebellion but still on the list of things he's okay with). The idea of violence is one that's always scared him, in theory there are many cases where he believes it's perfectly acceptable, commendable even to an extent. However when it comes to actually executing violence, even in a situation where it should be okay, it's terrifying. Gonna give y'all a preview of the next part. Here are the notes I wrote myself for when I get around to writing it:

Andy is shell-shocked. Caught between two memories, experiencing them both simultaneously over and over again. Felix takes him back to their house where their dads, Carl and Arthur provide hospitality and comfort. Andy confides in Felix about a moment from his past which has guided him away from violence at every point in his life, until it came time to save his friend…

Hope y'all are having a good morning/afternoon/evening/night. See ya!

[greycoffee]

Take My Hand, Give Me Your Soul and Fire

Pairing: Zack Addy/Seeley Booth

Summary: A rewrite based on 1x09 The Man in the Fallout Shelter where Zack finds it odd that he keeps bumping into Booth at every turn even though they're locked down in the lab. He discovers something about himself while observing him.

Part: 1/3

Word count: 4.5k

Song: Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol

My bones ache, my skin feels cold 

And I’m getting so tired and so old 

Zack winces as the needle pricks his buttock. He isn’t the biggest fan of getting shots but, if it means not dying of Valley fever, then he can set aside his feelings for the pointed instrument momentarily. He slides his pants back up, not that he had lowered them much, and glances awkwardly between his colleagues and the floor as they talk about what to do next now that they’re aware of side effects or symptoms they should look out for. 

For now, they’re told to get some rest. Hal, the head of the hazmat team, bids them a good night and reasures them not to be too worried before packing up the equipment. Once they leave the medico-legal lab, it’s his team’s turn to complain about their ruined holiday plans. Well, everyone except for one person. 

“You know what?” Booth says humorously. “I’ve never realized how pretty all this shiny stuff is.” 

The others watch him with mixed feelings of awe and jealousy solely for the fact that Booth is the only one with the preferable side effects. There’s not much that they can do other than discuss how they should get some sleep and then regroup in the morning to examine the unidentified remains now that they have the time to do so. Once the sleeping bags are brought in, everyone grabs a sleeping bag before dispersing to their little nooks. 

Hodgins claps the back of Zack’s shoulder. “I’m calling our workstation if you want to bunk with me.” 

Zack doesn’t say anything but nods as he considers taking Hodgins’ offer, it’s the most logical seeing as they’re closer and more accustomed to each other’s presence. Plus, they’ve shared the same sleeping area before after having a few too many drinks while watching anticipated basketball games. There was no other reason as to why he shouldn’t. 

He’s ready to follow Hodgins and grab a sleeping bag from the lone pile when his eyes latch on to the only other person who’s been quietly staring at the lab’s light fixtures. Booth turns away from the twinkling lights and locks eyes with him, the doltish smile still plastered across his face. Panic shoots up Zack’s chest and bubbles at the cusp of his throat as he looks for something to say. 

Booth is acknowledging him, and although he might not be saying anything he’s maintaining eye contact, which is something he isn’t used to. He feels like he’s under some kind of spotlight. 

“You see this?” Booth asks him as glances back at the lights, his eyes speckled with their reflection. “Wow, I mean these are… beautiful.” 

Zack’s fingers twitch from where they hang uselessly by his side. His eyes flit from one side of the lab to the other in a last-ditch effort at shifting Booth’s attention from him onto something else. There’s no one else in the lab other than the two of them. 

“Uh, Agent Booth?” 

All he receives is a noncommittal, “Yeah?” 

“Shouldn’t you be with Dr. Brennan?” 

At the mention of the anthropologist’s name, Booth turns, his brown eyes on him once more. 

“Bones?” he asks. Zack nods. “Should I be?” 

“I suppose not, but you always accompany her wherever she goes.” 

Booth lightly scoffs. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do,” he refutes. He’s not sure where his sudden burst of dissent is coming from but it doesn’t burrow itself back down immediately. “You tend to seek her out whenever you’re assigned to a case that requires the Jeffersonian’s resources.” 

“Because the FBI and the Jeffersonian have an agreement.” 

Zack shakes his head. “Although that’s true you never seek the others. You always seek out Dr. Brennan specifically.” 

Booth’s eyes shift and there’s an odd emotion in them Zack can’t quite identify (not that he can recognize most of the looks people give him anyway). All he knows is Booth would never give him this type of look during their regular, albeit limited, interactions. 

“Yeah well,” Booth scratches at the corner of his mouth and sniffs, “Dr. Goodman assigned her as the leader of your squint team, she’s the most qualified to be in and out of the field when it comes to our joint forces… we work well together.” 

“We as in?” 

“The FBI and the Jeffersonian,” Booth says quickly with an awkward smile. 

Zack doesn’t know what to make of that so he agrees. “Right.” 

“Right.” 

Booth goes back to staring at the lights. Zack sighs and makes up his mind to get the man’s attention again. He carefully makes his way over and lays a hand on Booth’s arm. It works and he earns a mildly confused Booth staring at the sudden touch. 

“Let’s go find Dr.Brennan,” he says with much effort. Zack feels like his heart’s going to shoot out of his chest; he’s sure Booth would be able to pinpoint his location with the sound alone if he had a gun trained on him in a dark room. “She’ll know what to do with you and I’ll get to keep all of my fingers.” 

“Why wouldn’t you keep all of your fingers?” he asks, genuinely confused. 

“Because I’m laying them on you?” 

Booth’s eyes soften.“You know I don’t mean it when I threaten you and Hodgins, right? I’d never hurt you.” 

Zack almost wishes the agent would threaten to shoot him and stuff his lanky body somewhere obscure where no one would find him. However, something inside of him grows fond of this side of Booth he’s never let him see and he learns why. It isn’t difficult to develop some kind of soft spot for him. 

The corners of his lips twitch upward. “Of course I do.” 

Booth returns his attention to look ahead of them, his eyes following the lights from time to time as they make their way to Brennan’s office. Zack’s sure he hears the FBI agent mutter some things under his breath but pays no attention to his hallucinogenic ramblings; he’s focused on getting Booth to Brennan in one piece and bruiseless… if only Booth could stop looking up at the lights every five seconds. 

*

“Where are you going?” 

“To the restroom,” Zack answers, showing Hodgins the packaged toothbrush and toothpaste they were provided with. “I just remembered that I haven’t brushed my teeth.” 

Hodgins made a sound of acknowledgment before settling comfortably into his sleeping bag and tucking the fabric beneath his arms. 

“If you find any eggnog that managed to survive the bone dust, bring it over.” 

Zack gives a short laugh. “No promises.” 

He can practically hear Hodgins roll his eyes and takes that as his cue to leave before he gets something thrown at the back of his head. 

The bathroom’s empty like it typically is even in hours of service. Still, Zack waits a few seconds to see if anyone’s inside before walking over to a sink and running his toothbrush under the faucet. The bristles are harsh on his gums but he powers through it finding that he’ll find it considerably worse if he doesn’t brush at all. 

He rests a palm on the cold counter and leans into it, humming to himself as he gets into every crevice that he can. Zack rolls his head onto his shoulder and eases into the peaceful quiet especially after the commotion where everyone had been so quick to point the finger at one another. The quiet felt duly needed and he’s grateful for it. 

However, as if a testament to his dwindling luck, the door to the restroom opens and Zack looks up at the mirror to see a quiet and mild-tempered Booth waltzing in. Well, the mild-tempered part doesn’t last for long as the man’s entire demeanor changes the second he realizes he isn’t alone inside the men’s restroom. Zack almost finds it endearing actually. The sudden change in conduct reminds him of his sister’s golden retriever when he returns home for the holidays: bright, captivating eyes, perked ears, and a wagging tail that smacks him when she begs for pets. 

No, he reminds himself. Booth isn’t a dog and he doesn’t have a tail — but if he did, it would definitely be wagging, he concludes. 

“Zack,” the man breathes out a sigh of… relief? 

Zack quickly looks away from the mirror to spit in the sink. “Booth, what are you doing here?” 

“I was looking for —” he stops to look for the right words to say “— the restroom.” 

Zack cups a hand of water and rinses out the toothpaste before using the sleeve of his graphic tee to wipe away the remaining water that clung to the corners of his mouth. 

“Well, I just finished up here.” He finds that he can’t keep the eye contact Booth’s been so insistent on holding with him anymore and he looks down at the wet sink. “Restroom’s all yours.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’m not rushing you.” 

He rinses his brush and taps it against the edge of the basin all the while stealing a glance at Booth; he finds it odd that the man hasn’t moved. Zack decides to crack a little joke with Booth and see where he is in terms of reality while putting his toiletries away. No one really knows how long it’ll take for the effects to wear off. 

“So, did you finally wear Dr. Brennan’s patience down or did Angela kick you out?” 

No response. 

Okay, maybe Booth’s back to ignoring him. That’s fine with him, he knows what to do when Booth isn’t acknowledging him anyway. It’s clockwork. 

“I’m sorry by the way,” he muses. “I didn’t mean to blame you for keeping us here at the lab, I was just annoyed that you brought something for Brennan to —” 

The sound of footsteps causes him to look up at the mirror and see Booth approaching him. There’s something off about him, an indecipherable look in his eyes. It’s quick, like the snap of a rubber band tenfold, but noticeable all the same. Zack barely has any time to turn around and face him by the time Booth’s standing directly in front of him, the proximity of his broad chest making him take a step back until he’s met with the cold countertop digging into his lower back. His eyes snap up to meet Booth’s own, who are watching him curiously. 

“Why do you keep bringing up Bones?” 

Zack feels like prey being stared down by a predator, save for the fear that would usually be instilled in the prey, he feels small. There was something else deep within him. The sensation roiling in his abdomen wasn’t dread he knew that much, but it was disquieting nonetheless. He swallows anxiously and the motion triggers something in the man in front of him. 

Booth leans in closer and Zack feels his chest press against his own. It’s warm unlike the room they’re in, the dichotomy between his warmth and the cold marble drove him crazy, like a circuit on the fritz. He quickly shot his hands up and put them between them to stop the sensation. His palms pressed against Booth’s shirt while the pads of his fingers connected with exposed skin just above the seams. The feeling crackles and burns his fingers like exposed wire. 

It did nothing to calm the feeling. 

“Dr. Brennan this. Dr. Brennan that.” Booth’s breath fans over his cheek as he leans down, his arms caging Zack in. “You’re driving me crazy.” 

Zack finds it odd that Booth’s breath is fresh and minty. He assumed Booth had also forgotten to brush his teeth, like he had, and had therefore entered the restroom to do so but now he isn’t sure. 

“I’m sorry,” he pushes through a single breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just thought that, since the two of you work together, you’d appreciate spending more time with her. I’m surprised you’ve even acknowledged me for this long.” 

“I already spend enough time with her during work, Zack.” His body trembles at the way his name sounds coming from Booth’s lips. “Ever thought that maybe I felt intimidated by you? All that knowledge stored inside that pretty little head of yours and I don’t know what to say without making a fool out of myself in front of you?” 

Zack blinks. Huh? 

Before he can ask what he meant, ask for some type of clarification, Booth withdraws his arms and takes a step back. Zack feels his skin prickle at the cold that rushes over him and finds that he misses the warmth, the way his body felt pressed against Booth’s, he craves its comfort and pulls closer — he snaps himself out of his thoughts and looks up to see that Booth is still standing close, brown eyes dark and piercing. His body betrays him and he shivers. 

They stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, when Zack finally gains the ability to speak.

“It’s late,” he whispers. Booth nods. “I told Hodgins I was only going to go brush my teeth. He’s probably taken my sleeping bag hostage by now.” 

Booth blinks and his gaze softens. “You were getting ready for bed?” 

Zack nods, not fully trusting his voice. 

“Sorry for keeping you up.” 

Heat rushes up Zack’s face, he’s unsure why. He wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof. 

“It’s okay.” 

* 

“What’s he doing here?” 

Hodgins is no longer inside his sleeping bag by the time the two of them get back to the shared sleeping space. It looks as though his friend had been ready to go looking for him if he hadn’t come back the moment he had… he isn’t even sure how he’d attempt to explain why Booth had pinned him against the bathroom counter if he had found them. In all honesty, he still isn’t sure how to explain it to himself. 

Some sort of display of dominance? Zack’s already seen Booth do that on a few occasions but he’s proven his dominance over him on multiple occasions through a multitude of ways. This time it felt different. 

Ugh, he really — really — wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof. Lucky, or rather unlucky for him, they’re in quarantine and he didn’t have access to it. 

“He followed me here,” he whispers to Hodgins as he makes his way over to his sleeping bag. 

“You know I’m just high, not deaf, right?” 

“Shut it, Shrooms.” Hodgins points at him and then shoots a mildly annoyed look at Zack. “I can’t believe out of all of us he’s the one who gets to be blissfully stoned out of his mind.” 

So far, from how he’s seen Booth act, Zack’s not sure he wants to be blissed out of his mind. He’d rather be in control of himself, thank you very much. 

Booth walks over to a shelf stocked full of all sorts of equipment and pulls something out of its proper place. He turns it over in his hands, reading the label if it has one before putting it back to grab something else. If it doesn’t have a label he proceeds to ask Hodgins, who only has so much patience before he’s itching at the band on his wrist, what it is. Zack steps in and answers a few of Booth’s questions to diffuse the situation. 

Booth grows quiet for a few moments… before moving onto the next shelf and pulling something else to examine. Zack goes to take it out of his hand and shush him before he can ask but he’s too late. 

“So what does this –” 

“Alright, out.” Hodgins shoots up into a seated position. “Both of you need to go find somewhere else to sleep.” 

Zack scrunches his brow in confusion. “Both of us? C’mon —” 

“Yes, both of you. You brought your little friend here and he’s worn my patience down enough.” 

Zack groans and, not wanting to put up a fight, pulls both his sleeping bag and pillow off of the observation table. He doesn’t even attempt to roll it back up and lets it drag across the floor as he makes his way to the door. When he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, Zack turns to look at Booth and glares at him. 

“You heard him.” 

Booth falls into step with him. “Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to my office.” 

“You have an office?” 

“Kinf of… not really,” he says as he tries to find the right words to use. “I call it my office but it’s more of a workstation than an actual office. There’s a couch thrown in there by the Jeffersonian but it’s nothing like Dr. Brennan’s.” 

“Huh. For some reason, I never entertained the idea that you'd have an office.” 

Zack spares him a glance. “Not sure why you’d waste a second of your day wondering if I had an office or not.” 

Booth hums as if reminding himself of something. “Right.” 

Zack looks up to see him staring straight ahead, a pensive notch carved on his brow. He decides not to question what that look meant, it’s far too late and Booth’s been enough of a pain in the ass as of tonight. He just wants to sleep and hopes that somehow they will all be given the green light to go home when they wake in the morning. 

Zack smiles at the sight of his ‘office’ door and pushes it. Thankfully, it’s a part of the quarantine zone and it opens without much resistance. Booth follows close behind and gives a quick look around, not that there’s much to look at. 

He doesn’t have much in there, not many personal things at least. He keeps most of his belongings in his apartment, of course, but a few things are scattered throughout his workspace like his favorite books mixed in with research texts and trinkets from shows or comics he enjoys. Besides that, he has a throw pillow his little brother made him a few years back when he first moved out to DC. It was one of the first sewing projects he made in his art class that had sturdy enough stitches in it to have not fallen apart during the move. He makes his way over to the couch and fluffs the pillow before returning it to its rightful spot. 

Right, they still need to figure sleeping arrangements out. There’s enough room for Booth to set up his sleeping bag parallel to the couch if he moves the cart of tools closer to the shelf. Zack turns to instruct him to do as such when he realizes a crucial detail. 

“Where’s your sleeping bag?” 

“My what?” Booth’s confusion only serves to raise Zack’s eyebrows… until he remembers and snaps his fingers. “Oh right, I left it with your boss.” 

“You left it with Dr. Brennan?” 

He shakes his head. “Your boss’ boss.” 

Was that who Booth was with prior to finding him in the restroom? He hadn’t spoken much with the others after they had all gone their separate ways but it wasn’t too far of an assumption that Booth would’ve bunked with Dr. Goodman; Booth never did fit the type of person that likes being alone. 

“If you left it with Dr. Goodman, then why aren’t you with him?” 

“I – good question – I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Eh.” 

Zack smacks a hand over his face. “Okay well you can either return to Goodman so you can sleep in your own sleeping bag, or –” he raises the sleeping bag “– you can stay here and take mine.” 

The gesture surprises both him and Booth. He’s not sure why he’s giving Booth an option; knowing Booth, he would take the option to spend as little time with the socially awkward assistant anthropologist. But this new side of Booth? Zack isn’t sure what he’d do now… and he’s a little curious as to what he’ll do. Besides he would feel bad for kicking him out after Hodgins had done the same. 

“You’re letting me bunk with you?” 

Zack shrugs and furthers the man into making a decision by motioning Booth to take the lump of fabric in his hand. “I’m being nice and letting you take this rather than the cramped couch.” 

Booth smiles in that dopey way he’s been doing since receiving the shot. Even his eyes have this odd attentiveness to Zack in a way he’s still not used to… he’s not quite sure what to make of it or how it’s related to the side effects of the shot. 

“You are nice.”

Zack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That’s what I just said?” 

“I –” Booth sighs and fails to continue his thought before taking the sleeping bag. “Never mind.” 

Silence falls over them as they tend to their sleeping arrangements. Zack plops the pillow on one end before dropping himself onto the couch and hugging his brother’s throw pillow to his chest. He stares up at the ceiling and listens as Booth zips himself into the sleeping bag, the rustling fading as he settles into it. 

“These are far more comfortable than the army–mandated ones we got in Kosovo.” 

Zack stays quiet for a good second before something in him prompts him to blurt out: “Army–mandated?” 

“Yeah —” he hears Booth take a deep breath “— we never got much sleep but when we did, and if we were lucky, we’d get a few hours of sleep in these really thin sleeping bags. We were extremely lucky to even get them sometimes.” 

“That sounds terrible.” 

“It was terrible,” he chuckles quietly. “You wouldn’t believe the places we used to get some shut-eye.” 

“Try me. I’ll listen,” Zack says quietly when he doesn’t say anything else. Booth looks up and they lock eyes, curious eyes chipping at his to find some answer. “Where else did you sleep?” 

A faint smile graces Booth’s lips. 

“Anywhere we could. We’d sleep inside our operation vehicles, sometimes on or under them. Depending on where we were, sometimes we’d dig a trench and bunk there. And sometimes, if you wanted some space away from the others, you would go look for an isolated spot in some shrubbery or other foliage.” 

“What if you overslept? Wouldn’t you be left behind?” 

“Yeah, well… it happened to me once.” 

Zack turns on his side and peers over the edge with an alarmed look on his face. “What?” 

Booth snorts, entertained by his outrage. “I mean yeah, but they found me not long after. I woke up to see the OV gone and none of my teammates there.” 

“Weren’t you terrified?” 

Booth’s eyes flit to the ceiling above them. “Of course I was. We were close to enemy territory and we had been very close to being spotted a few times but we toughed up, we pulled through. We were trained for those kinds of situations.” 

“I’m assuming you found each other again.” 

“Maybe half an hour later they realized I wasn’t in the vehicle and they hauled ass to turn around and find me.” 

Zack feels the need to lighten up the mood a bit. He’s sure that what Booth just told him is something extremely personal that’s probably left him feeling vulnerable, so telling him a story from his own past might be helpful. From what Angela’s told him about interacting with other people, replicating conversation or body language is beneficial to forming a connection with someone. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

“One time when I was twelve, my brother thought it would be funny to prank me by taking me out of our shared tent and leaving me out on an open field in the middle of January.” 

Booth does this sound like he doesn’t know if he should laugh but does anyway. “Older brother?” 

“Third oldest, just by three years.” 

“Sounds about right. Older brothers can be a pain in the ass like that.” The smile on Booth’s face turns mischievous. “So what happened?” 

“Luckily we were only camping in the woods behind our house, but he pulled out the air mattress I was on and packed everything up just before breakfast was called,” he explains and stops for a second to brace himself. He’s not sure why he feels embarrassed telling him now and curls into the pillow. “I woke up buried in a pile of blankets and snow with a deer licking my face.” 

Booth breaks out into a fit of laughter and Zack feels his face burn hot. He presses his face against the pillow in a poor attempt to hide it. Rarely does he see Booth this talkative and unabashedly open so hearing his boisterous laughter tugs at something in his chest. 

“I just thought of the perfect nickname for you and it’s better than Mini Bones,” he says between gasps of air. “It’s perfect.” 

Zack’s aware of that nickname, Booth’s called him as such before and he found no offense to it. If anything, it was an honor, he is her assistant after all. (Even if the name was at the expense of Dr. Brennan.) Still, he’s intrigued as to what Booth could’ve come up with so quickly. 

“You did?” 

Booth tilts his head away, stifling (poorly, may he add) more laughter. It’s an odd gesture to do, seeing as he’s already laughed a couple of times inside the enclosed space, but Zack says nothing and studies his features. The stretch of his neck, the slight crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, the lightly scarred tissue stretched over his knuckles and forearm as he hides his laughs behind his hand, the scrunching of his nose. He takes it all in. 

He knows this won’t last. The effects of the shot will wear off by morning and everything will go back to normal. Booth will go back to ignoring him and Zack will go back to stealing little glances when they share the den during cases. 

“You ready for it?” Booth regains enough breath and turns to look at him with teary eyes. “Bambi!” 

Zack groans and rolls onto his back. He takes it back, he really hopes it goes back to normal after tonight so Booth wouldn’t have to call him that. 

“Oh, c’mon it’s great!” 

“I should’ve taken you back to Dr. Goodman. Let him deal with you.” 

“Don’t be mean, Bambi.” 

“Do not call me Bambi, it’s demeaning. I’m a Ph.D. student and deserve the utmost respect.” 

“But you look just like him: lanky, fluffy hair, big brown eyes, long eyelashes… all the reason to call you Bambi,” he teases with a stupidly charming grin. “Y’know, you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” 

Zack freezes, astounded by the comment, and unsure how to respond to something like that. Booth just said he’s cute — scratch that — he said he’s cute when he’s annoyed. He’s merely saying this to get a rise out of him. Zack opens his mouth to tell him just that but finds that Booth has already closed his eyes and is humming to himself, the notes later replaced with soft breathing within a matter of seconds. 

“Booth?” Zack asks and receives a soft grunt. He can’t help but smile softly. You only have tonight, he reminds himself. And that’s fine. “Goodnight.” 

“Night, Bambi.” 

[asillysleepy]

Sooooo this is much later than when he as wanting to get this finished but I did it

I wrote a fic

Agh tired, it’s 11 at night but did it

It’s a twisted wonderland thing

Would recommend looking at the tags before reading

But anyway, enjoy this angst filled story that is almost 10,000 words long and three gays together(Vil, Idia, and Leona)

[crimsonwolfheadcanonsandsnippets]

Resting by the Fireplace

{Day six! The prompt is fireplace. I literally haven’t finished JJK since I didn’t want to read all of my favs dying (Idk that they do, but I didn’t want to risk it), but this prompt felt very YutaMaki once I thought on it a bit. This was an absolute blast to write and I need to write more of them. Yuta is one of my favorites.}

Yuta wakes up in a cold sweat. He doesn’t remember the dream, but he knows what it was about. The only thing he has nightmares about anymore is Geto. He gets up and changes into warmer clothes. He grabs his sword and heads toward the training field a little ways away from the buildings. He doesn’t want to wake somebody up. When he gets there, he starts stretching. 

“Yuta, it’s too cold,” Rika’s voice says. 

Yuta looks up and Rika’s by him, looking a little anxious. 

I think I did a little too good of a job. I don’t like how much she reminds me of Rika. 

“It’s a little cold but I’m okay, Rika,” Yuta promises. “You can go.” 

The Cursed Creature that Yuta made in Rika’s likeness disappears, so he continues. He barely notices time passing by as he continues to try and master the moves that Gojo taught him before leaving. 

“Yuta!” The voice belongs to Maki. 

He turns and almost slips. He drops the sword as he spreads his arms out in hopes of not faceplanting. She storms over and Yuta gives her a sheepish smile as he leans over to pick up his sword. 

“Hi, Maki,” he says. “What’s up?” 

“How long have you been out here?” she asks. 

“I don’t know, it couldn’t have been that long. I don’t feel bad.” 

“That’s the most reassuring thing I’ve ever heard,” Maki snarks back. 

Yuta shrugs. She grabs his hand and practically drags him back toward the buildings of campus. Yuta’s legs are a little stiff as he tries to keep up, but nothing too bad. It’s when they walk into the dorms that it hits Yuta. His muscles all freeze up and he stumbles into the wall as his knees give out. He’s holding himself up, barely. Once the warmth hits Yuta, he realizes he must have been out there far too long. Maki looks concerned and goes over. 

“I’m okay, Maki,” Yuta says, trying to push himself off of the wall and back fully onto his feet. 

He fails, but tries again. That time, he manages to get to his feet before tilting slightly to the right. Maki grabs his arm and the motion makes his muscles hurt, but he bites his tongue since he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for the help. She gently leads him to the fireplace, taking a good bit of his body weight. She gets him settled in front of it with a blanket and then stomps into the kitchen. Yuta shrugs the blanket off since it being on his shoulders is making them feel funny. The warmth from the fire is good, he starts feeling a little better. 

How did I not realize that I was out there too long? Was Rika trying to warn me about that? 

“Yuta Okkotsu.” 

Yuta’s head snaps up and Maki’s standing there with her hands on her hips. 

“It was making my shoulders feel fritzy,” Yuta says, trying to justify taking the blanket off. 

She sighs, then drops down next to him. She puts her hands closer to the fire, so Yuta mimics the motion. 

I don’t know if I’ve ever warmed up by a fire before. I just used to have thick winter clothes that I’d wear. Well, maybe it won’t be weird if I just do what she does. 

Once he starts feeling somewhat normal, he picks the blanket back up. His muscles don’t feel like they’re having a stroke and trying to kill him, so he puts it on one shoulder and offers the other side to Maki. She sighs and takes it, then scoots closer to him and puts it around her shoulder. 

“Thank you, for coming to get me,” Yuta says. “I didn’t realize that I was out there that long.” 

“When Panda said that you weren’t there when he got up, I got worried. I know that when you can’t sleep, you tend to train, but it’s too cold to do that for long right now. That’s why we aren’t doing morning training sessions right now.” 

Yuta nods, “Sorry for worrying you, Maki. It’s sweet that you thought of me though.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Yuta,” Maki replies.  

After several minutes, Yuta leans his head against Maki’s shoulder. She turns her head to see as much of him as she can. 

“I’m sleepy, and I figured this would bother you the least,” Yuta mumbles before closing his eyes. 

“We should get you to bed if you’re sleepy, Yuta,” Maki says. 

“No, it’s warm here with you. I don’t want to be cold anymore.” 

Maki’s cheeks get a little pink. She wraps an arm around Yuta and he presses up against her. His breathing gets slow and steady, so she puts her head on top of his. She falls asleep and when she wakes up, Yuta’s twitching. She picks her head up and realizes that he’s still asleep. She rubs his back, trying to ease his mind. Surprisingly, it seems to work since the twitching stops. 

She sighs in relief, then realizes that his eyes are open. “Did I wake you?” 

“I don’t think so,” Yuta mumbles, “I think Geto did.” 

She raises an eyebrow, but his eyes are drooping shut again. He decides he’s uncomfortable since he transitions to his head in her lap and curls up next to her. She runs her hand through his hair and he hums in what sounds like content. 

I think I could get used to this.

[alygator77]

just a little drabble for my current wip. arranged marriage with clanhead gojo.

warnings: mdni, smut, breeding kink, lots of breeding, praise, creampie, bit of angst.

arranged clanhead! satoru who still isn’t used to sharing his space, even after months of marriage. the grand Gojo estate, once his sanctuary, feels smaller with you in it—your scent lingering on the furniture, your soft hums echoing in the halls—not unpleasant, but… unfamiliar.

arranged clanhead! satoru who notices how your shampoo smells so sweet, clinging to his pillow. how your hair clogs his drain and it drives him fucking insane, yet he still finds himself instinctively reaching for your favorite brand of conditioner while he’s out, tucking it into his basket without a second thought. he doesn’t know why—it’s not like he cares… right?

arranged clanhead! satoru who steps into the kitchen late one evening to find you leaning against the counter. your hair falls in loose strands around your face, messy but still maddeningly pretty, and you sip tea from a mug—his favorite mug. you’re draped in one of his shirts, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh—your bare legs illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead light.

for a fleeting second, he freezes. you look… almost at home. he doesn’t want you to look at home. or does he? he shakes the thought away.

“couldn’t sleep?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on the curve of your legs. “or… were you waiting up for me? ‘cause I could really blow off some steam.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who emerges from the bathroom later that night, his snowy hair damp and tousled, a towel slung lazily over his broad shoulders. he’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, the defined lines of his abdomen on full display as he rubs the towel through his hair, his gaze sliding over to you lying on the bed.

“ready for tonight?” he asks, tilting his head with that signature nonchalance, as though he isn’t about to fuck the hell out of you, as though his sole intention isn’t to fill you so full of his cum that there’s no question the Gojo Clan will get their heir.

arranged clanhead! satoru who pushes you into a mating press the moment he’s on top of you, his large hands gripping your thighs as he folds your legs back against your chest, pinning you beneath him. his cock slides against your slick folds before splitting you apart, and his breath shudders as your cunt swallows him greedily.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, panting through thrusts. “always so good f’me. always takin’ me so fucking well.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who hates himself for the shameful thrill that bubbles up within him, the sick satisfaction of watching you come undone beneath him. the way your pussy clenches around his dick, the way your gasps and moans echo in his ears, drives him to thrust harder, deeper, as though his very existence depends on filling you—which it does.

arranged clanhead! satoru who’s pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with an almost feral hunger. he tells himself it’s just biology, but deep down he knows better.

“good fucking girl…” he smirks, pushing your legs higher as you squirm beneath him—your nails digging into his arms, but the sting only spurs him on. “don’t worry sweetheart—haaa—this time, for sure, m'gonna breed that pretty pussy. gonna make you drip with my cum ‘til you can’t hold it all…”

arranged clanhead! satoru who watches your eyes roll back as his cock slams into you, the bed shaking beneath you as his focus narrows on the way your breasts bounce with every forceful thrust.

“you’re mine,” he groans, the words slipping out before he can stop them, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you—hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. his body trembles against yours as he buries himself to the hilt.

“fuuuck, take it…” he rasps, his forehead dropping to press against yours. “so fucking good f’me.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest pressed to yours, his weight pinning you to the mattress. your breath mingles, warm and uneven, and for a fleeting second, he almost forgets why he’s here. why you’re here. but then reality creeps in, sharp and cold, and he pulls out slowly, watching as the mix of his cum and your slick drips onto the sheets.

arranged clanhead! satoru who remembers his duty as clanhead, as the leader of the Gojo Clan. like a good husband—like a good leader—he doesn’t waste a single drop. he shifts, his fingers dipping between your legs to scoop up the cum leaking from you.

“can’t let this go to waste, sweetheart,” he mutters as he pushes the thick mess back into you. his thumb presses against your clit, and he smirks when it earns a soft gasp from you—his fingers sliding deeper. he watches, transfixed, as his cum disappears inside you again, his cock giving a weak twitch at the sight.

arranged clanhead! satoru who rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves with the effort of catching his breath. he doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t hold you, and you don’t reach for him. the silence afterward is louder than any moan you could make. he tries to ignore the ache in his chest, something he refuses to name.

arranged clanhead! satoru who lies awake long after you’ve drifted off, his arm slung over his eyes as he tries to ignore the ache in his chest. he won’t admit it—not to you, not to himself—but he’s starting to crave more than your body. he craves the softness in your voice when you call his name, the quiet way you laugh when you think he’s not listening.

but this is just obligation. just duty. just… fucking. right?

full fic in the works 🫶🏻 lmk if you wanna be tagged. update: it's out! read it HERE!

[artficlly]

his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement. 

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut. 

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?” 

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?” 

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to. 

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?” 

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink. 

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder.  “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!” 

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both. 

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew. 

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.  “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

[asterisk-666666]

man I need to make a fresh AO3 for my backlog of coaster character writing that hasn’t had a home, especially since I’ve been starting to write Stex stuff too