#you think these two would wear the “stupid” “i'm with stupid” shirts & if so who'd be “stupid” & “i'm with stupid”

[mooniety]

girlfailure but older concept design, she got married while she was at it too (crying 💔💔💔)

i have some ideas for "older" mk as well but they primarily consist of him appearing like something straight out of monster hunter & too many bits about how shell shocked people are when they find out that these two are married no less were previously in a successful romantic long term relationship of all things

like the secretly depressed happy-go-lucky stem girl & unmovable ultra mysterious lone wolf holding hands, that has to cause some sort of mental whiplash, especially when they go far beyond into high school sweethearts territory

[kharmii]

In the area where I live there are really only a handful of people still wearing masks its either leftist teen pupils or Karen looking women. Leftism and all that nonsense really didn't take off in the area I live even if the greater country cares a lot about leftism.

At the very least they are easy to recognize and here and are rare to spot in the wild and even easier to avoid.

Personally I never caught the virus. And I highly doubt the vaccine helped with that. I am usually preferring to stay at home and I think I am one of those people being immune to this whole thing from the get-go (and I worked in retail for the majority of the time, working with young children who sprayed their sneezes all across the room when they were too young to have memorized sneeze etiquette.)

But this isn't about me it is about weirdos still wearing masks and I chuckle to myself each time I see them. Hon things are looking good right now and no mask can help you save brain cells since you all kick them out when you joined the leftist cult.

It is comforting to live in an area where most modern day leftism is rejected or ignored... Makes me feel like real life really only has a handful of lunatics advocating for this bs and common sense still has a big space there.

I hope in the upcoming years all this nonsense will eventually die out and we have a new nonsensical trend people do that is less harmful than the current one.

Only just recently did some of the hardcore mask people stop wearing them at work. There are still a few people around, and I mostly see them when I'm out shopping.

I never got Covid either, or if I did, it was so mild it was hardly noticeable. Some people reported losing their sense of smell for a few days or having a scratchiness in their throats. I had that a time or two. It might be a mix of genetic luck of the draw and goodish lifestyle choices. I don't always eat the best, but I stay physically fit. I don't smoke or drink.

The thing is...I'm not the same person irl that I am trolling on the internet. I'm actually sensitive and considerate, and some people have even misinterpreted me as being shy. Years ago, at work, someone released a baby raccoon caught in a trap crying for its mommy, and a bunch of people assumed it was me. I was like, "What?! I didn't even know it was there!" (If it was me, why wouldn't they assume I still had it stuffed in my shirt like MY BABY RACCOON NOW!!)

If the people I worked with were decent, I might have suffered wearing the mask for a bit when asked, even though it was stupid, pointless, and ineffective, and I don't like wasting my time with stupid, pointless crap, especially if it comes with an uncomfortable sensory experience. My job is physically demanding, and I can't have restricted breathing. Someone sitting at a desk all day might not be capable of understanding that.

When Covid hysteria first hit, I still had a committed stalker, and I was working around a bunch of low lives who'd cackle around me like hyenas. Almost every day, I'd have to listen to this nasty, nasty woman mutter under her breath, "Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh.....you can't make comedy like this up!" every time I'd get harassed by the stalker guy.

-So then when someone accused me of 'dehumanizing them' for not wearing the mask, I went off. I've been dehumanized constantly my entire life, -sometimes by my own family- and nobody has ever given the slightest damn. I don't want to hear about how (so-and-so) lives a cushy, pain-free life and still feels 'dehumanized' because they belong to some 'marginalized' group, or because someone around them isn't towing the line to follow some group-think political agenda.

Again, if I thought people would actually die if I personally didn't wear a mask, then I'd wear one. If I was surrounded by decent people who treated me well, then I'd wear one out of consideration for their anxiety. -But I'm surrounded by narrow-minded goobers, some of which clearly don't believe their own bullshit and only were doing it because they cared too much about what other people thought. A couple people might have even got the vaccine for that reason.

Side note: I'm feeling a smidge pissy today because someone started drama at work after a long period of peace. About once a month, I'll heat up fish in the break room, either salmon or rainbow trout over rice. Keep in mind, the break room isn't a place where people hang out. Workers will heat up their food, grab their drinks out of the fridge, then go off and eat somewhere else. The only time we had people hanging out in the break room was when we had the two office workers shirking their duties and going in there to hide.

Around Christmas, the stalker guy made some comment like, 'Someone didn't like how you heated up fish yesterday.'

I replied something like, 'Someone can fuck right on off...'

Now today, I get a note in my workstation saying, 'Stop heating up fish in the microwave. Signed: Everybody :-)

I hung it up on the wall with a reply, 'If you don't like it, get a job at McDonalds where the food smells good. I only eat fish once a month. Get a life.' *circles the word 'everybody'* 'Like I've ever cared.'

I can't count how many times I'd be surrounded by dirty rotten low life scumbags cackling around me with an attitude like, "Everybody has decided....(this and that) about you."

As if I'm going to be like, "What?! You mean 'everybody' has an issue with something I'm doing?! Well then, I guess I'd better goddamn well change!"

This is that impossible standard of perfection I'm always going on about. Nobody cares that I'll clean out the microwave every so often, or bring in plastic cutlery everybody is free to use, or that I'm one of the few people who puts napkins over my food when I heat it up, so food doesn't splatter all over the microwave. I heat food up every day (fish once a month, every other kind of food the rest of the month). Nobody notices or gives a damn about anything positive I do. They have to find something to pick a fight about, and it's always something that's not that big of a deal.

[littlemissfasd]

Unedited. (Also published on wattpad)

Florence had been arrested, technically she took the fall for her stupid friends who decided to play a game of armed robbery. They made her sign god knows how many files before they shoved her into a cell, the faint outline of a woman can be seen.

"What are you in here for.." the voice asks, i jump slightly as my back hits the wall.

"Scared the fuck out of me." I mumble.

"Sorry darlin' didn't mean to, so..you gonna answer my question?" She asks taking a step into the light. She had a scar cutting through one eyebrow, her hair was short but half of it was shoved into a bun. She has her name threaded into her jumpsuit 'Ellie williams'

"You first." I challenge, why are you doing this? She could kill me within seconds. I shake those thoughts away and clear my throat.

"Murder. Dont worry..she deserved it." My eyes widen a little, okay really shouldn't joke about her killing me anymore. The smile that was plastered on her face gave out an eerie feeling, like she wasnt even phased at what she had done. "Your turn." She says, this time theres a small smirk on her face.

"Uh armed robbery." I nod slowly, her eyes squint slightly almost saying she doesn't believe it. Cant say i blame her when im wearing a skirt and a low cut shirt.

"So..who'd you kill?" I ask without hesitation. She chuckles slightly before shrugging "someone who deserved it." I nod "Fair enough.." i look around the cell.

Not that there was much to look at, concrete walls, concrete floors, two metal bed frames with paper thin mattresses.

"So.." she starts taking a few steps towards me "you got a girlfriend?" I'm confused by the sudden question, not that my confusion stops me from answering it. Fucking blabbermouth.

"Uh..i dont know? I guess ive never tried." I admit, its true. I am not against the idea it's just i've never been with anyone properly.

"I could show you." She says in a quiet tone, i chuckle slightly. "Oh yeah? How would you do that?" I question.

She looks around, thinking for a second before answering. "I could pin you up against that wall and.." she trails off not finishing her sentence. "And what.." will you ever learn to shut up?!

"Kiss you.." she murmured taking a step towards me, her faces moves towards mine. I swear i can feel her breath on my face. "Why would you do that?" I ask, my eyes flicker slightly but i quickly stop that and focus on her eyes. "Because your pretty."

Was she flirting? Was she just trying to build a relationship so i wouldn't expect her to kill me? I mean i can see the knife hidden in her back pocket.

"So are you but you did just admit to killing someone."

Her fave turns cold as she takes a step back sitting on the end of the metal bed frame. Now you've done it. "What did you say?" She asks coldly. "I said..you told me that you killed someone.." i repeat. She smirks and nods "i mean she deserved it. Its just a little murder." She stood back up with that same sinister smile creeping back onto her face. She creeps towards me once more and i just watch her.

"So what did she do?" I ask, DO YOU WANT TO DIE?! Shut up. She shrugs "its a secret. I will tell you though..i enjoyed every single moment of it."

No surprise there.

She smirked at my lack of reaction, bringing a joint to her lips and taking a few puffs of it. "Your are pretty though..wouldn't mind having some fun with you." She comments.

"Im assuming a little fun ends in me in a coffin?" I say, slightly amused.

"Who knows, who knows." Her hands travels up the side of my thigh, she giggles seeing my reaction. "So i have a fifty fifty chance to live or die." Her hand traces around my back finding its way under my shirt "That is very distracting." I whisper.

"I meant what i said..i wouldn't mind having some fun with you."

I roll my eyes "what are you doing ellie." I ask, blankly. She pushes me firmly against the wall, making sure I couldn't get away from her. "What? Are you going to kill me with the knife in your pocket?" I ask, a small smirk appearing on my face.

"Oh so you did see it." She says with almost a proud expression, i nod "im not blind."

"But you are dumb..challenging a murderer." She made a valid point but it wasn't as if i cared. She moved my long hair away from my neck, leaning in and attaching her lips to my skin. My head tilts to the side allowing her better access, i shouldn't do this. But she's so..addictive.

A small breathy moan leaves my mouth as her teeth nips my skin "oh so you do enjoy this." She says, placing the cold blade of the knife to my bare back "never said I didn't." I say, i shiver slightly at the cold but hold no other emotion.

"You play a dangerous game..i know exactly where to put this knife so that you wont make a sound" she says. In a cold tone, holding her serious face.

"So do it." I suggest. Her faces changes, to one i cant explain.

"You really do get off on this huh." Her laugh yet again cold and sinister. "Maybe i just have a knife kink." I say, she nods slowly taking my sentence into consideration.

"I mean maybe. That's definitely a possibility." Her free hand travels up, landing on my neck. "Your knife is considerably blunt, and the tip is damaged." I say, without a second thought. "Correct." Is all she says before slicing through the back of my bra. Her hand drops from my neck and pulls my shirt over my head, i dont try to stop her. My bra hangs by only the straps and she smiles at the sight "lets..remove this. Shall we.?" Using the knife, putting the blade carefully under the strap she pushes it down my arm on both sides.

"Pretty girl." She says kicking my bra across the floor. I shudder feeling the tip of the knife trail across my bare breast.

"You are so..easy." She mumbles. I chuckle "says the one who is literally undressing me." I comment.

"Good point." Her head drops, taking my nipple into her mouth forcing a low gasp to leave my mouth. "This is..wrong." I whisper "Yet you're not stopping me?" She challenges when she releases my nipple from her mouth.

"Look at this pretty skirt." She compliments, unzipping the front of it forcing it to fall to the floor, leaving me in my underwear "oh..you really are enjoying this." She smirks seeing the pool of liquid forming in my underwear. She drops the knife onto the floor, i flinch slightly at the loud noise, she drops to her knees. Kissing up my legs, parting them slightly so she can get to my inner thighs "please." I beg, my hair intertwining my fingers through her hair.

"Sh sh..patience my love." I roll my eyes at her response, her fingers pull my underwear down in a swift movement. Her finger slides through my soaked folds as she looks up at me with a smirk "How long before you kill me?" I ask, she looks amused by the question "i'd say..ten minutes." I swallow but nod "best make it the best 10 minutes of my life then aye?" She says nothing instead she forces two fingers deep inside me causing a loud gasp to leave my mouth.

"God you're so tight." She mumbles, moving her fingers at a slow pace "Ellie.." i moan, my grip on her hair tightens feeling her mouth take my clit inside.

"Oh my god!" I moan, slamming my hand over my mouth remembering inmates can hear us right now. She removes her mouth, grabbing my hand away from my hand "let me hear you, love." She says as an almost warning, i nod not being able to get my words out as her fingers continue to move at a fast pace.

She takes my clit back into her mouth, humming against me forcing vibrations through my body "fuck!" I yell, my hips unintentionally grinding against her face. My release hits hard and suddenly, she takes my juices into her mouth happily.

"Good girl. One more for me." I don't even process what she says before the pace of her fingers continue "oh el~" my eyes roll into the back of my head as her fingers curl inside me, hitting that one spot "im~ im close." I whimper, she nods simply adding her thumb to my clit "oh- to..too much." I pant, she clearly doesn't care and continues to pleasure me. "Fuck! Ellie please" i beg, im not sure what im begging for. Liquid seeps from me down her fingers as a smirk crawls onto her fave as she places her fingers into her mouth.

With her free hand she guides me to her bed, i know whats coming. I cant fight her.

"Times up, pretty girl."

[foxounderscorecube]

Halo: The Fall of Reach - Eric S. Nylund

3½ ⭐

I had a lot of fun reading this, but it feels a bit rushed. That's the short version!

My friend and I play video games once a week and we played through the Halo series - it was a childhood favourite of theirs, and I'd never played it before. I didn't expect to become SO invested in it!! I adore the series more than I could have anticipated - I'm not exactly a huge sci-fi person, usually.

As a result, having some background on the SPARTAN project and our good friend, John-117 (or as I call him, inventively, John Halo) was great. I found the timeline jumping around a bit confusing to begin with, but when I got used to it - or maybe when the story began to flow better, not sure if it was a me thing or the book - it was no issue.

I think John gets treated as a faceless everyman sooomewhat unfairly, generally speaking. He is deliberately a stand-in for the player, but I do enjoy the bit of personality we see in-game - his humour, his love for Cortana, and his complete dedication to whatever task he's given (which, in the context of, well, essentially his entire life, is really rather tragic). This book builds upon all of those things really brilliantly. The short version is that [slaps John on the back] this bad boy can fit SO much trauma!

The framing of the SPARTAN programme and the character of Dr. Halsey is really interesting. Although we see a lot of her perspective and that of the Spartans themselves, the story doesn't actually seem to excuse the moral awfulness itself. Hell, even Halsey sometimes wonders if what she's doing is right, but she strongly believes in what is ultimately a eugenicist's wet dream, especially when the conflict with the Covenant arises - even if that is serendipitous, honestly, and the Spartans were originally just to "calm down" rebellions on Reach and the human colonies. Her stand-in as a maternal figure for the Spartans is twisted but still sometimes manages to be endearing: she does genuinely love them all so much, but ultimately, they're a science project for her.

I do think one of my favourite aspects of the series is how UNSC and the Covenant are two sides of the same coin: totally different at first glance, but more similar than either faction would ever want to acknowledge.

Of course, all my ramblings aside, most of this book is cool sci-fi action stuff. The training of the Spartans is harsh and, through trauma and close proximity, they become bonded to each other in a way that's adorable and also really rather sad. The rest of the military think they're freaks - especially ODSTs, a hardcore branch of the Marines that all have the vibes of someone who'd wear one of those t shirts with a fiery skull on it and it says something like "Don't mess with a guy who was born in August, eats scrambled eggs for breakfast, and loves Dachshunds". They aren't exactly well-socialised because they're trained for nothing but combat and unwavering obedience to UNSC in the first place. It's no wonder only they can understand each other, and the action sequences show how they work together really well.

The issue with the book, as I mentioned briefly earlier, is that it feels a little rushed. There are stupid, stupid consistency errors that should have been smoothed in early editing, and the pacing can be kind of all over the place. When it's going, it's going, but there are lulls in the plot that didn't keep my attention so well. A little personal thing that I'd have liked, as well, is to have Covenant character perspectives - but I'm just a big fan of the aliens, so, you know.

For a fan of Halo, this is a good bit of backstory with a load of action and fleshing out of the characters we see in-game. Is it ground-breaking literature? No. But what did you expect from a Halo book, honestly.

[joaquinwhorres]

gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.

[anystalker707]

Pleasantly Surprising

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Fluff / Enemies to lovers Summary: (Y/n) meets a nice group of guys in a concert. Warning: Blood, but no violence or wounds description.

Requested on Wattpad

a/n: This one if for you blood kink bastards </3

(Y/p) = Your pronouns

Feeling the cold night air filling my lungs with a faint smell of grass is much better than the smoky and sweaty, heavy air present among the public that gets worse near the mosh pit. I lean back against the brick wall, feeling the cold surface through the thick jeans of my jacket, digging into my shoulder blades as I try to control my breathing, quietly watching the band leaving the stage to give place to another.

My throat feels dry, aching the slightest after I swallow around the sharp and cold breaths, so I look around for a stand to buy at least a soda, ankling over to the nearest one. The line isn't actually that long – thank hell –, but that doesn't prevent a random bastard from trying to cut in line.

"Hey, what in the fuck you think you're doing?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling them back by their collar and they just look at me with this sulky face, bottom lip sticking out and lip ring glowing lightly under the reduced lighting. "No cutting in!"

"Says who?" they retort bitterly. "What you gonna do about it?"

"Aw, bold, aren't we?" I raise an eyebrow, glancing down and... the motherfucker is wearing school clothes, lacking the tie and shirt untucked. Private school. "What are you? Not like the other kids? The line isn't even that long, stupid."

"Fuck off," they sigh, shrugging out of my grip and harshly fixing their clothes.

"Frank– Fuck, Frank, the hell, can't we leave you alone for a single second?" A random voice suddenly interrupts our interaction before a tall person approaches, a motherly and worried air lacing their gaze. They look from me to Frank before exhaling, raising an eyebrow, at which Frank shrugs. "I'm sorry for whatever Frank did, he–"

"Fuck, no, Ray!" Frank cuts them off, "you're not playing the good guy here! I was just trying to–"

"Trying to cut in the line, yeah, very nice of you, isn't it?" I roll my eyes, twisting my mouth. At least he isn't lying, but is he stupid or something? Why would he try to convince us what he was trying to do was alright?

It looks like Frank is going to argue for a second, but ends up just groaning through gritted teeth and looking away with a sigh and tense shoulders.

Ray doesn't look any amused, only observing Frank like who looks at a puzzle after having tried to solve it for weeks without success. They shake their head, turning to me instead. "I'm Ray, he/him, nice to meet you. Sorry for Frank, what he did is... unfortunately usual."

I observe him looking at him from head to toes. School uniform just like Frank's, tucked shirt, loose tie. "Hi. I'm (y/n), (y/p). And don't worry, I would've done the same," I breathe, looking away from the two to hand the person behind the counter the money after pointing to the drink I want.

"What?" Frank gasps. "You would've done the same and still acted all like that towards me?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Me doing it doesn't mean I like being affected by it." I grab the change, shoving it in my pocket then step aside for Frank and Ray, cracking the can open.

"Y'know–" Frank crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his nose in the air, "–my momma says that you should treat the others as you want to be–"

"Aw, honey, so you'd like me cutting in the line right in front of you? Shamelessly?" I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hold back a grin when his face gets bright red, hands balling into fists. Not gonna lie, it's kinda cute how he twists his mouth. Frank is about to curse when Ray is shoving a couple of cans into his hands – a sigh leaves his lips instead. "Two for each?" I question and sip on my drink.

Frank smirks, looking at me with humor. "Yeah, wanna watch me drink them at once?"

Ray rolls his eyes at Frank, shoving him out of the way after noticing there were people behind them. "We're actually with two other friends. Are you alone here? Do you wanna come along?" He smiles, ignoring Frank's complaints, so I opt for doing the same.

"I guess that'd be nice," I hum, shrugging. Otherwise, I'd be going home right now and Ray actually seems nice... I mean, Frank does too, but I'm not feeding his ego.

The other two stand against a brick wall when we find them, both quietly chatting to each other until seeing us approaching. The first one doesn't exactly react, more interested in the can Ray hands him, but the second, greasy punk, hums questioningly, straightening their posture as taking a good look at me almost like I did to Frank earlier. "And who are you?"

"(Y/n), (y/p)," I mutter, looking at them from over the rim of the can, taking a sip of my drink.

"Found lying in the trash when I approached," Frank adds, but doesn't seem so confident after I playfully shove him aside.

"Gerard, he/they," Gerard replies, eyes never averting away from mine. What is he, kind of a gang leader? Got a hell of an ego, though a bit differently from Frank – I'm noticing a pattern here, huh. "Mikey, he/him," he continues, nodding to the other guy.

I throw my empty can in a trashcan before leaning in towards Gerard. He tries to escape the touch, but he's against a wall, there's nowhere to go. How cute. "Belleville High," I say, finally able to make out what the small black letters embroidered on the chest area says, and step away, allowing Gerard to breathe. "Isn't it that private school? Catholic one? Wow, who'd know I'd find BH students here!"

"Stereotyping, are we?" Frank raises an eyebrow. It's impossible holding back a smile at him.

"No, never," I chuckle. "It's just a... rare occurrence. You came here right after school?"

"Not really." Ray shakes his head. "Just didn't have the opportunity to change. Good thing it's Friday, tho," he chuckles humorlessly and I nod in a silent agreement.

"And where do you study?" Frank takes a better look at my face. "If you study, that is."

I scoff, but don't reply just yet. Mikey is the most tidied up out of the four whereas Gerard has his tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, blazer all wrinkled. "Of course I study, dumbass!" I glare. "But I'm in the public school near the park. But I've seen you before." I nod towards Gerard. "Just don't know where."

Gerard's eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's not always that I see a greasy vampire looking around, so yeah."

A silence hovers between us for a moment, both of us staring at each other until he feigns unamusement, looking away – I smile with a stupid pride swelling in my chest.

The night ends with us exchanging numbers after a solid hour of joking around and throwing sarcastic insults at each other. Teasing Gerard was particularly fun because he often ran away from the whole joking or at least tried to and even Mikey laughed when it failed, though sometimes succeeding when Frank finally managed to get the spotlight on himself. Ray is sweet, despite being the perfect example for 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you.'

Gerard got my attention, to be honest.

Saturday and Sunday go by quite slowly and thankfully texting the guys every five minutes doesn't make it as depressing as usual. Texting Gerard isn't the same as texting Frank – who replies a text to each word I send him –, however. Gerard often replies with a word or a vague comment and guess what? I'm only more interested.

No Gerard manages to slip between my thoughts during school, but it ends up happening as soon as I step past the gates. Belleville high, isn't it? Shitty elite, but they don't really seem to be like that... let's see if that wasn't just great acting. That's not even a mile away from here. I look down the street, the direction opposite to where I would usually go. It won't hurt to say hi, right? Not to mention I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Belleville High's classes finish about ten minutes later compared to my school's, so I don't bother walking too fast, but not slow enough to let my palms get clammy or overthink anything. Amazing how I can feel like this about people I only met once. Okay, whatever, take a deep breath because I guess I know these curls.

"Look at who we have here!" I throw an arm around Frank's neck, interrupting whatever they were doing and attracting wide eyes towards me. Turns out I found them earlier than expected, hanging out in the park.

"Damn, are you everywhere?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me and presses his lips together, though never stepping away. Blood?

"Who knows?" I joke. "Also..." I trail off, only now taking a good look at them. "Man, what in the hell fucking happened to you guys? Seriously–" I yank a paper off Frank's back, sighing at the 'kick me' written across it and hand it to him, shaking my head. What fucking idiot did this? How the hell did they even get into a fight? It doesn't seem like they were fighting each other.

Frank groans poorly, wadding the paper into a ball and tossing it at the nearby trash can. He's got a few scratches above his eyebrows and blood trailing down the corner of his lips. Mikey and Gerard are probably in the best state out of the four – Gerard got blood trailing down his nose and same for Mikey, though on opposite sides and Mikey's cheek is smeared with blood. I can't say the same about Ray... I don't know how he's not even wincing with all that blood trailing down his face.

"Well," Mikey breathes, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "you can say that–"

"Why do you even want to know?" Gerard steps forward, hands clenched into fists by his sides. "You got nothing to do with it, okay?"

"Aw," I breathe a chuckle. So he wants things to happen like this? But does he have the nerve to keep it? I may not have known him for long, but the attitude is clearly foreign, unmatching. "And what, baby? You lost, didn't you? And you're a fucking sore loser!"

"I just don't see why you should know." He twists his mouth, looking at me uninterested, but it doesn't take long until he's looking at me with these eyes, irises barely seen, eyebrows scrunched close. "And don't talk to me like that! Maybe it would even be better if you fucked off and left us alone, don't you think?"

Man, he talks a lot. Too much. No wonder why he's in such a state. Maybe he'll shut up if I...

"Holy..." Frank trails off with a quiet chuckle and I'm certain Gerard would have glared at him if he wasn't processing what just happened.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray stare at me with wide eyes – as wide as Gerard's, but they're not as petrified as Gerard is, for sure, only with hesitant, unsure grins on their faces. I suppress the urge to laugh at Gerard, instead more focused on rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to get rid of the salty and metallic taste.

A quiet sound comes from Gerard as he finally moves, maybe a groan, not sounding really comfortable. He brings a hand up to his lips. The perfect trail of almost dry blood is now smudged, following the direction I licket it to, having the blood smeared across his chin and bottom lip. "Ugh, ugh, ugh," he groans, frantically cleaning his lips and chin with the back of his wrist, against the sleeve of his blazer. "What the fuck? You're gross!"

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Man, I wonder why I thought being an asshole could be solved."

"Eh, trust me, he isn't normally like this," Ray says with a shrug, looking at Gerard like if he was a chained angry dog even after receiving a glare.

No one gives Gerard's tantrum much attention as we soon sit down on the grass and change the subject before we can notice. Surprisingly, Gerard sits down next to me. Even more surprisingly, he leans closer at some point and whispers, "well, look at who's the vampire now."

Saying Gerard's words got stuck in my head would be an understatement. Maybe it's a nightmare, maybe it's not, but it does get me randomly blushing or stupidly grinning during random times of the day. Nonetheless, school the following day does help a bit with cleaning my head a little.

After a few hours of staring at blackboards, the setting changes to staring at records hanging on the walls and it's honestly better. Incoherent, loud chatter being changed to music of my choice is a lot better, even if I need to talk to a customer now and then.

"This is the place I told you about. I've only been here once, but it seems good," a voice says from the outside, but I don't look up from my homework.

"Never been here," someone else says. A pause follows then their footsteps sound clearer and I sigh, shoving my things on the space under the counter.

"Hello, good afternoon," I say automatically, holding back a groan at how my eraser insists on falling and grabbing it fast. "How can I help you?" I finally look up just to freeze. And the four have the same reaction, to be honest. "I knew I had seen you before," I say to Gerard.

"What a small world!" Frank approaches, immediately narrowing his eyes and throwing his nose in the air as looking over to me. "So you're not a rebel who only wanders around and goes to free concerts during the night and stalks us?" He raises an eyebrow, looking around the place, inspecting the shelves full of records and CDs.

"So you only got one set of clothes?" I mock, staring at his school uniform.

Frank exhales, shoulders dropping. "We just got here from school." He motions vaguely to his messenger bag and I nod, humming, not like it matters a lot.

While we talk, Ray and Mikey wander around, talking quietly to each other and sometimes taking a record in hand, but Gerard... he stands there awkwardly, observing Frank and I with a lost gaze. What is he doing? Trying to act all cool like last time? Or doesn't know how to react?

"Hello," I greet, which sounds more like a question. Frank turns around to look at him, apparently understanding Gerard as much as I do.

Gerard presses his lips together and steps forward, also leaning against the counter. "You didn't mention you work here."

"Didn't have a reason to." I shrug.

The corner of his lips twitch and he's holding eye contact until sighing. "Okay, whatever. Got anything new on Misfits or Pumpkins? Also, Bauhaus." He glances at me, black strands falling over his eyes for a moment before he's pulling them away. Cute.

"Of course." I grin, moving to the cabinets behind the counter.

Frank eventually darts off as I show Gerard the records and cassettes like he wanted. I glance around to make sure Frank is paying attention to whatever Mikey is telling him and Ray before I turn to Gerard again, grinning lightly. "Y'know," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows over the counter. "I've got passes for a bar concert tonight. Wanna come?"

"What do you mean by passes?" His eyes never avert from the records – he runs his fingers over them delicately, examining each of them closely.

"Each ticket was about ten dollars and they're sold out, but the store is sponsoring the event and I got free passes." I smirk, watching his eyebrows raise lightly. "I usually can get one person in with me. What do you say?"

He pauses. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I know the least." And also the one I'm interested in. "Pick you up at seven, what do you say?"

He sighs. "I'll text you my address."

.

"Wow, you're..." Gerard stares at me with a blank face, standing there and letting all the cold air get in. He rushes into the car, closing the door carefully.

"I'm...?" I raise an eyebrow, sinking my foot down on the gas, pulling away from the sidewalk.

"I don't know." Silence. "Not what I expected."

"Glad to know." I grin. "You're also not what I expected. You're never what I expect, to be honest..." He wasn't all open in the beginning, but also wasn't the asshole he was in the park – in his defence, at least, he had just gotten out of a fight, nerves still on edge. At the store, however, he seemed more like himself. "Also, you're looking good."

Gerard's eyes are surrounded by eyeliner and a red eyeshadow – definitely nothing I would see him in, but also nothing I'm disappointed about –, bringing out his paleness. And for the first time, he isn't wearing that stupid school uniform and fancy shoes are replaced by platform boots. A leather jacket clutches his shoulders, decorated with a few studs and patches, and covering a nice Slipknot shirt. And there are his jeans, fucking tight and I swear I hadn't noticed this guy got such a nice ass and, fucking hell, it's difficult not staring at his thighs flat on the seat, with a chain falling over one of them.

"Thank you," he mutters quietly. Even in the reduced lighting, I can see his cheeks gaining a red tone before he looks away.

The place is crowded, but not overly – which is why the tickets were even sold, at first place – and it's fun seeing Gerard's chin drop when he looks at the sign of the place. To simplify, everyone is either always wanting to play in this bar or come watch someone play and the tickets are not only always sold in small quantities, but also expensive.

"Let's go," I chuckle after having spent a good moment observing Gerard.

We jog across the street, towards the entrance, just straight away skipping the whole line. The guy in charge of letting people in looks at us indifferently, in a silent question, muscles clear under the tight staff shirt. Even if there's no visible difference in his expression, he does relax a bit after I show him my pass and steps aside to let us in.

"Wow," Gerard mutters, almost inaudibly.

"You like it?" I ask as we walk through the people. No answer comes. He stayed back, of course; the boy is kinda shy and hesitant, after all. "C'mon!" I take a hold of his hand to pull him with me until we're in the bar area, which's much calmer. He stands there for a moment, looking around, until I point at one of the stools, sitting down on the one beside it.

Gerard shifts on his seat, hands resting on his lap and clenched into fists. He observes everything with wide eyes and I can't bring myself to avert my attention away from him. He's beautiful.

When the band starts playing, however, the atmosphere starts changing. It's a classic punk band – the kind of people you'd see around in skate lanes, spraying anarchist messages on a building's wall or behind a McDonald's counter – and the music is good, nonetheless, raw and emotional and demanding. Great to dance to.

Gerard is shy, as already stated – what makes me wonder how he even agreed on coming –, taking a good time to actually stand up from the stool and join me.

His hand is warm under mine, maybe not as warm as his cheeks seem to be. I had taken it in mine to pull him up from the stool, only, but he didn't let go and... oh well. Aren't you interesting, Gerard? I grin to myself and take his other hand to pull him to dance with me; that if you consider moving around to the rhythm of the song some kind of dance, but Gerard doesn't complain.

I'm not sure how much time goes by – I only question myself about that once the band is saying good night, breathing audibly as they get off the stage. The live music is replaced by a momentary incoherent chatter when loud music fills the place again, this time coming from the speakers. Gerard and I are out of breath when averting our attention from the stage to each other. My arms feel a bit sore after all of that, almost the opposite to my numb legs.

"Wanna grab a drink?" I nod towards the bar. "We can go to the alley to take a breath, then."

"Sounds good."

The non-alcoholic drinks are as cold as the night air, suddenly making it even more obvious how much we jumped around to the band's sound. We lean against the wall opposite to the side of the bar and I look at Gerard, watching his chest rise and fall fast, only coming to a longer pause when he brings the glass to his lips. He observes something above us, maybe the sky, but I don't care.

"Your nose is bleeding again." I suddenly note, seeing the dark red trail now almost reaching his upper lip. Not a surprise. He hurt his nose not much over a day ago and all the jumping must have opened the wound.

"Fuck." Gerard brings a hand to his nose and sighs when seeing the red stain on his fingers; I chuckle softly, halfheartedly. "What? You wanna lick it again?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me. He apparently opts for not ruining the sleeve of his leather jacket, regarding it more than his school blazer.

I roll my eyes, smiling helplessly. "Well, if you'd like me to," I decide to tease back, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Ah, you wouldn't dare!" He chuckles, blood staining his lips according to how he talks.

"You think so, honey?" I raise an eyebrow. A few stutters come from him, but I just grab his glass and set it aside with mine, on the ground, before stepping towards him. "Tell me, why are you always so... bold around me? It's clear it's not part of you, as Ray even said." I suppress a humorous chuckle at how he frantically backs away against the wall, having nowhere to go. This brings me memories. "Maybe it has a specific reason?"

Gerard's eyes are wide, lips twitching, though no word ever comes through and his expression changes instantly once I get a hold of his hips and pin him to the wall. Feeling the heat coming from his cheeks is almost possible and all that resistance is gone, tendering into compliance and shyness.

"Look at you, Gerard," I mutter, rubbing circles into his hips as leaning in. "How surprising can you be?"

Having Gerard only letting out a quiet whine in response as his hands rest hesitantly over my shoulders make my heart flutter in my chest. I finally lean in, pressing my lips to Gerard's; he returns the kiss right away, lips sliding against mine easily.

And there it is; the rich metallic taste of Gerard's blood. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, snatching a hum from him, which turns into a whining-gasp once my teeth sink into it slightly.

His hands tighten around my shoulders, I grip harder onto his hips in consequence and he's sent relaxing back against the wall. He never had control over the kiss, but he's suddenly just giving up on the power at once with a quiet sound, slowly wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me closer and I gladly deepen the kiss.

"Wow, love," I breathe as soon as we part the kiss, lungs screaming for air. Gerard doesn't reply verbally, with his lips brushing lightly against mine and, by now, the blood is starting to get sticky, on its way to drying, also on my lips.

"I hope we can go out more often," he mutters shyly, not long before burying his face in the crook of my neck.

[yamithediaperdork]

Welcome to baby land (Ben 10)

it was a tale as old as time, one that had happened before, would happen this day and despite the fall out from today's events would happen again in the future.

A young boy, fueled by fetish desires and spending hour after hour, day after day bringing himself to the peak as he looked at his chosen fetish, only to pull back last second.

Because the boy knows for what he wants, for what he's going to do.. he needs that desperate pent up denial of release to shut down his common sense. to make him nice and dumb.

His name was Ben Tennyson, and up until a short while ago he had been the hero of the universe and earth. But that was before the watch had been taken, and given to his cousin Gwen who had been picked as being a most reasonable hero. with cutting remarks that he would of never gotten the watch for as long as he had had it's marker realized who was wearing it, and being called to immature.. was it any wonder a bitter and dejected Ben cut himself off from his extended family and drove into the world of porn?

never mind he had beaten off a alien invasion, a 'pants peeing doofus' couldn't be trusted with the watch.

Fine. whatever. if they wanted to look at him as a stupid big baby.. that's what he'd become.

He didn't even like diapers at first when he started, but well.. porn has a way of warping a young boy's mind. Looking at picture after picture, caption after caption and reading the stories Ben for all intents and purposes turned himself in a diaper boy, and a humiliation junkie.

Taking birthday money he even found and brought a package of punishment diapers meant for shaming (though he got it at a discount as the shop was being put out of business) that were super thick, boasted how they could hold any mess.. and also claimed they didn't keep any stink from being contained and guaranteed diaper rash if used.

For a porn addicted loser like Ben, this was pure gold and since he paid for rush devilry he got a enema bag and a small bottle of little crampers, the enema for brats.

Ben knew what he wanted, total, public humiliation but he kept ruining it for himself with self pleasure driving the need out of his mind before he could do it.

finally, Mid October the little porn fueled loser decided enough was enough, he was gonna stop wasting his time and the diapers he'd paid for and set himself up to goon. For a week strait he subjected himself to it, and by the time he was done on Sunday night, Monday morning the little loser set himself up to fail.

waking up early, Ben used the whole bottle of little crampers even though it said to just mix 1/8 with a litlre bag for a enema kit, and groaned and whimpered as he used it, hot water and a dash of castor oil in the big enema bag, only his bulky white and black t-shirt hid the preggo belly he gave himself.

getting back to his bedroom and cramping, the soon to be ruined diaper loser looked at the pack of his punishment diapers and having not worn one till today, toyed with layering at first but they just looked too thick.

Settling on one of the bulky diapers with it sobbing crybaby design, he taped it on then tried the tapes, blushing as the package lived up to it's name.

Once taped on it would take 2 hours for the tapes to come back off, he was truly trapped. again a normal boy of Ben's age would of been panicking, realizing they had gone too fair but Ben just breathed fast, and smiled as he picked his baggiest pair of pants and was delighted that they still only JUST hid the diaper, if he bent over his padded shame would be CLEAR.

Getting down stairs and getting breakfast in himself, he was already seated as his parents came down and made small talk with them even as the delightful cramps started to build. (he'd never admit it, well at least before today's events unfolded but he'd grown to like pain, it made his heart beat fast and smile)

Still he couldn't help but squirm and groan a little bit, and got looks of concern from his parents as he finished his bowl of cereal.

"Benny you feeling alright?" His mother asked, coming over and putting a hand to his forehead. "You can stay home today if your not feeling good."

"N-No I'll be alright. just worried about a math test." Ben said, mixing truth with lies,then added: "Besides, you and dad said you were BOTH gonna be out all day today. who'd stay with me?"

"Heh, He's got a point there.. and good on you Ben. I'm proud your being mature enough not to try and get out of a test." His dad said, totally misunderstanding the happy giggle Ben let out.

His father might of thought it was Ben was so happy he was proud of him, But for diaper bitch Benny, the irony of the comment almost made him ruin the fun early.

If Ben's plan had one flaw (well one he'd admit to) it was the fact that he hadn't taken into account how much slower he'd be having to waddle his massive diaper butt to school with the added fun of having to stop 3 times to force himself not to spoil the fun early.

He'd even left a little sooner then normal, his parents had been quick with their breakfast and he 'accidentally' left his house key on the desk in his room and after making sure the front door was locked, went out the back door as you could lock it from the inside while the door was open.

'No getting out of this by running home!' Ben gleefully thought.

He barley made it into homeroom before the bell rang, though since he was known to be tardy from time to time it didn't raise too much attention, get getting a snide comment from his homeroom teacher about gracing them with his presence.

Even better, home was also his math class and that was going to be first period (which was a good thing for the ever so full little perv as his 'chocolate mud baby' wasn't going to stay in him much longer.)

Mr. Fillawick wasted little time in handing out the tests and after a standard warning that he'd tolerate NO cheating and there was going to be NO bathroom breaks, he offered anyone who had to go a chance to use the potty now.

'OK..this is it..your last chance.. you could just say you need to go, and sneak out the school.fill your diapers in the woods and get out of them once the tapes give up.' Ben thought to himself, biting his lip.

it wouldn't be destroying himself in class and getting him labeled stinky baby for the rest of the year, but it would land him in hot water with the school and his parents and he'd run the risk of being seen outside right?

He almost started to raise his hand when his inner pervert took over and he just turned it into brushing his hand though his hair.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. you'll have a hour to do the test. good luck." Mr. Fillawick said and shrugged, going back to his desk and sitting down, doing whatever it was teachers did.

Five minutes later and Ben was in a mixture of heaven and hell. he was twitching and sweating a little bit, his pencil twitching in his hand even as he started to leak in little bursts against the front of his diapie.

the cramps were at the point of no return and even if Ben said fuck it and got up to run, he wouldn't of made it more then five steps.

all he'd managed to do so far was write his name on the test and the date, then the cramps had gone over board.

'Ok..Ok.. this was a mistake.. I've leaked enough boy milk to see that.. maybe.. maybe I can still just.. get out..of..' Ben thought, going white knuckled as he gripped the side of his desk with his left hand as a powerful cramp hit, a low rumbling fart coming out his backside though the sound was mostly muted.

the smell however was not as the diapers lived up to their claims and Kids around Ben wrinkled their noses and looked around looking for the source of the smell and eyes zeroing in on his as he was blushing.

"Mr. Fillawick? I think Ben needs to go to the bathroom." A redhead boy behind him said. "Or at Least can he be moved to the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Tennyson had his chance for that Mr. Randal. and I prefer he stay where I can keep a eye on him." Came the teachers amused answer.

even as the class giggled and laughed, two more rotten poots escaped and there was open cries of disgust.

"Gah, at least open a window!"

"What did you have to eat this morning, a skunk!?"

Ben whimpered and squirmed, he had the whole class basically looking at him now and the teasing and taunts had brought his pervert side back up to full power.

'It's now or never.' Ben thought, though he also knew wasn't really a option. it was more like Now or never if he wanted a semblance of control over the act.

it helped he was trembling lots now but Mr. Fillawick who'd never cared for Ben much since he was a rowdy student only watched with sadistic glee.

Ben's Pencil 'accidentally' shook out of his hand and rolled off the desk and onto the floor, and Ben made a show of just reaching into his desk to find anther one.

"Mr. Tennyson, whatever your habits in your own room may be, I run a clean Classroom." the smirking teacher said. "Bend down and point up that pencil."

"Uh..but..If I-" Ben started, putting the perfect crybaby whine in his voice.

"You'll what? fart? like you haven't been doing that already?" the teacher shot back.

Putting on a show of being embarrassed and scared (he was embarrassed but his heart was beating fast) Ben leaned over the right side of his desk and there was a gasp from the students behind him as one thing he hadn't planned on happened.

"BEN'S WEARING A DIAPER!" Hooted Crash.

"A BABY DIAPER!" a blond girl added.

"More like a BIG baby diaper!" Randal noted with amusement.

Somehow his pants must of lowered enough to flash off his embarrassing diaper! Oh god! for all of 2.4 seconds trued to stop what was about to happen but the act of leaning over had been the final trigger.

as the enema finally worked it's magic and the back of his diaper started to swell up Ben could only hear the roar of his mess and though tear filled eyes almost could swear he could see image of him in just diapers and a bib, tapping a shovel on a grave that had been filled in. the tombstone read:

RIP Ben's self respect.

as the force of the mess made Ben fall forward, landing face down and ass up, his pants failing down more so everyone could watch his diapers load up in the back (thankfully they wouldn't be able to tell what he was doing in the front!) The image of baby Ben came over and looked down with a grin at the real one.

"Welcome to baby land~ no going back now."

As Ben's life was ruined, and he was designed to never be able to get that 'excited' again unless he was crapping brains out(heck, he was going to be pulled from school and his parents would begin his new big baby life, treating him like the baby they thought he wanted to be, not knowing he was just a humiliation junkie) Charmcaster smirked in her jail cell.

Sure having to watch all the events unfold from sitting into of a toilet wasn't the way she'd hope to see the spell play out, not to mention it had been that bitch Gwen she had targeting, but this worked out in the end.

Gwen would suffer being the cousin of the big stinky baby and would likely end up having to change him and it wouldn't be too long now before her uncle broke her out. wincing as Ben started to baby babble though she did have one moment's regret.

'I mean, I'm evil and wanna take over the world but was making him a diaper perv too far?' She wondered, then smiled. 'Naaaah!'

The end

[jujywrites]

Neil/Eva + 28

.......The prompt is skirts/thigh-high socks and i’m not sorry (smut prompts here)

Confusion

Eva actually looked damn good in a suit.

She posed at herself in the mirror, her critical eye giving way to an admiring one. Red was one of her colors? Who'd have thought.

Maybe Neil will wear green. The thought made her laugh, for some reason. She dusted off her top hat and started to daydream about what candy this outfit would get her.

"Neil," she called, "you done yet?"

"Uh, yeah..."

Why did he sound like that?

Then he entered the room, and she knew why.

"I lost a bet," he said, weakly enough that it was obvious he was lying.

He had his "single/taken/anime" shirt on, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was: he was wearing a very Sailor Moon style skirt, and it was short enough to show the tops of his thigh-high stockings. They were white, like his comparatively masculine loafers (but: white loafers????).

Suddenly she felt way too hot in her suit. "Um." Not that she could throw stones. But-- he was lying, which meant he'd chosen to wear them, and she really didn't expect Neil of all people to wear... that. "You look good."

"Uh, no, you do," he said with a sharp laugh. "Like. Really good."

"I'm not kidding, Neil." She swallowed, wet her dry lips. "Thanks," she added, face burning.

"But. I dunno." He fussed with the edge of his skirt. "It... feels nice?"

She was too close to him. When had she moved? Why did she... "Cute," she whispered.

"Come on, Eva," he said, laughing nervously. "Cut it out." He bit his lip, and said, "you're way cuter."

"Neil. Shut up."

When she kissed him, he grabbed for her shoulders, making the smallest of sounds. His knee pushed between her legs, and he kissed back so desperately her heart almost stopped--

She woke with a start on her stomach, a hand between her legs and her clit pulsing. what the hell what the hell what the actual fresh hell

She didn't stop moving, though, and what the fuck, why was she so close? She slid two fingers into herself, put her thumb on her clit and groaned into her pillow.

She thought about him lifting up that skirt and fucking her against the mirror and came like he was inside her.

"What... the fuck?" She panted, heart pounding, head spinning.

When uncomfortable clarity started filtering into her head, she rolled to her back with a groan, then went morosely to the bathroom. Her bedside clock reading 2AM was small comfort. While getting some water, her refection caught her eye in the night light and her brain started trying to Logic without her permission.

A: Neil wasn’t into that. B: Eva wasn’t into that. She wasn’t into Neil being into that, she’d never even thought about it, what the fuck was wrong with her subconscious? She knew fantasy didn’t necessarily translate into wanting it in reality, but she had no reason to even have such a fantasy and also, what the fuck?

Pieces of the dream filtered back to her: The look Neil had given her when he’d seen her. How she’d felt wearing that suit. The unbridled lust that had filled her until it spilled into the real world.

He’d felt… needy. And thinking about that was making her feel things. She’d liked that.

Unbidden, the image flashed into her head of Neil crawling to her with a wrecked tuxedo top, with that skirt and stockings, his gaze hungry.

God. Fuck. She needed to go back to sleep. Hopefully she’d pass out from the leftover oxytocin.

She flopped back into bed, trying and failing not to think about how weird tomorrow might be. But it wouldn’t be weird! Because she'd be an adult, a goddamn professional, and seeing Neil being his usual dumbass self would be a palate cleanser and she wouldn’t think about any stupid, weird, weirdly hot(no!!!) sex dreams.

Her brain was just being dumb. That was all.

...Besides, she would definitely look better in thigh-highs than he did.

[xnchxntmxnt]

OMG HAPPY 2OO LUV!! ILYSM, AND YOU DEFINITELY DESERVE MORE!! AS EXPECTED I'M HERE FOR THE MATCHUP EVENT AND I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE KSDJFHSDF

1 | name : amie 2 | pronouns : s/her 3 | preferred gender : doesn't really matter 4 | self-description :

— it's ya clown sho <3 anyway, i'm an ambivert but more inclined towards the introvert side. my MBTI is INFJ and i'm a Gemini. i'd describe myself as someone who's very observant? yea, i guess. i'm awkward and you know it. My favorite color is blue, specifically sapphire, but i love all pastel colors. My fav show is Chicago Medical and all the psychological and crime thrillers out there are my favorite ( silent patient is my #1 though ) I love painting, playing piano and basketball!

— what i look in a partner you ask, uh, someone who can tolerate my silence. there are times when i go quiet for a whole day, i'll barely speak, no interaction nothing. i want someone who'd not exactly 'deal with it' but 'understand it.' also, i want someone who i can talk to without any hesitation. i have a hard time opening up so i don't do it but when i do, i spill almost everything. i might cry, might have anxiety attack, i might even shout. i know it's not very healthy but i want someone who can help me with those. plus someone who i can read with please <3 cheating and not having any respect for personal space would be the major deal breaker for me

5 | gen. aesthetic : my fashion sense starts from sweats and ends in sweats. i'm a big fan of those oversized hoodies and shirts, like something really comfy. however, i do have a collection of formal wears like blazers and dress.

6 | color/s to describe myself : red, actually. if not read then blue. it switchers but red 90% of the times.

7 | fav song/s : literally everything by Chase Atlantic and The Neighborhood. However, my absolute favorites are some of the famous classical pieces like Experience by Ludovico Einaudi and Chopin's Ballade No. 1 Op 23.

8 | fav genre of music : classical music ( Beethoven, Einaudi and Chopin own my heart )

Lol this is very lengthy I'm sorry, btw congrats again!

I looked into MBTI, I looked into zodiacs, I went off of what you said

Here he is, the man, Seijoh’s do-it-all guy

HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO ur new boyfriend

There is not enough content for him, anyway

How You Met

Bear with me here

Think about this

Artist!hanamaki

You love painting? Art club.

Idk if youre actually in any art club but shhh

Anyway, it was probably some sort of community thing full of tons of different age artists (bc you’d have basketball or something after school and he had volleyball)

So like once a week on thursday afternoons everyone gets together and does all sorts of artsy stuff

Everyone listens to lo fi music (or you can bring headphones) and chit chat and just paint for a couple hours

Its in the back section of a library (bc the library near me does stuff like this its awesome) so if you want you can go read a book while you wait for things to dry

One day the person that ran it suggested you talked to the new guy

He was about your age, it was his first day, they didn't know what all he was good at, and tbh they thought you two would look cute together

Just the vibes yk

So you set up your canvas and stuff next to him and introduced yourself

And you guys just vibe to the playlist

He’s REALLY good

Compliments you a lot too

Which is fun because he’s cute so it makes you a little flustered

You find out you guys go to the same school and he’s on the VB team

And says he has a (practice) game that weekend and asks you to come if you can

Which you do

And they win! So its fun!

Matsukawa basically asks you out for him though

He’s heard all about you already

“You don't get it issei! She’s so pretty!! God, she touched my hand and I thought I was gonna die!!!!!” “the enthusiasm is new for you” “shut up asshole” (conversation from the night before)

So he walks up to you after the game and is like “Hey so,,, we’re going out to get some lunch, you wanna come?”

Makki thinks HES flirting with you and is pissed off about it

Until you all sit down for lunch and oh, the only open spot for him is next to you (since when is matsukawa willing to sit between iwaizumi and oikawa??)

He asked you out after art club that week (Mattsun threatened not to give him any more monster for the rest of the month if he didn't get the guts to do it)

General Headcanons

You date hanamaki, you're also dating matsukawa

There’s no separating them (good thing ur MBTIs work together too, especially for strong friendships)

This was literally my first thought

So

Good luck with both these trolls

More on that later

Of course he’s going to be worried if you go radio silent for a while, but he'll understand

There are some days he’s not gonna wanna talk either

He’s really supportive on your bad days of course

Expect a random text in the middle of the evening from him

“Hiya sweetheart, just wanted to remind you that you’re beautiful, I love you, and I hope your day is going well.”

When he’s having a bad day, the same thing is all he needs from you to keep moving

He’s a really honest person. If you want to talk to him, be prepared not to get any sugar coating. If you tell him to shut up because you don’t want advice, he will. But if you expect advice from him, expect brutally honest advice. Subtlety is not his strong suit, so when it comes to advice, he’s going to tell it like it is. He's just trying to help, yknow?

However, he’s pretty good with people, so will know how to comfort you when something is bothering you. Tea and cuddles? Gotcha. Dancing at 11pm because neither of you want to sleep yet? On it. You want him to hold you? Perfect.

He’s not like...the most touchy person? There are some things he’s really indifferent on, and other things he’s stubborn as hell with. Whatever you wanna do, though

His weakness though

⚠️this part is slightly little bit suggestive⚠️

He will randomly walk up to you and pull you against him, give you a really deep kiss, smirk and walk away like nothing happened

Like hands in hair probably almost making out and then just

Walk away

Because that’s how he kisses and it’s breathtaking every time

It’s either little temple kisses or forehead or cheek pecks or something

Or that

And probably leaves you flustered and it’s funny (to him) (and to me if I was there with you) (bc that would be funny)

Hmm I’m thinking

I’m thinking hair dye dates

He needs help doing his hair from time to time Y’know (he doesn’t he just likes spending time with you) and he wants to make it pink again

So he teaches you how to do his hair and even offers to dye yours one day

Either just a strand or the ends or everything, up to you

Imagine having twinning hair dye with makki isn’t that cute

I think it’s cute

I said ur platonically dating mattsun right

Yes you are now

He absolutely adores you and loves how much makki loves you

Probably would have asked you out if makki didn’t but he was really pushing for makki to because he was just all over you in the beginning

He wasn’t overly attached to you romantically so being friends? Perfect. Sounds great

You two get along wonderfully though like you act like siblings once you warm up to each other

Again, very brutally honest person, but a little more awkward so doesn’t know what he’s saying might come off as he’s acting like a dick

He doesn’t try to though and he does really care about you

Flat out told makki if he breaks up with you and breaks your heart he’s gonna kick his ass (makki doesn’t know he had the same (less aggressive) conversation with you)

Tbh all of the VBC at seijoh loves you

Oikawa loves talking to you he thinks you’re great for makki

Gets you in on he and makki and mattsun’s antics

Iwa thinks you’re good too he just doesn’t know you as well

I think that kunimi would like you (he was almost a runner up--)

Kindaichi too

The first years just think you’re cool even if they won’t say it out loud

Seijoh VBC loves you

You got mattsun’s approval

And hanamaki loves you with literally everything in his life

So

You’re pretty set with your strawberry baby huh

Date Night!

SLEEPOVERS

I was waiting for some matchup to come along that gave me sleepover vibes

In a perfect world where you could do sleepovers with your bf because most parents would,,,not let that happen

Imagine…

He shows up at like 7:00 after practice, pizza in hand because he picked up dinner

You two eat, chat about your day, he probably scarfs down half the pie bc it’s after practice ofc he’s hungry

So when you guys are done eating you head up to your room

And make pillow fort

It’s mandatory

Different design every time, but there’s a pillow fort nonetheless

And then when there’s just enough room for the both of you to climb in

You get a blanket and a couple pillows and one of your phones or laptops or whatever and watch a movie and cuddle

When the movie is over you guys break out the face masks

You ever wonder why he has such great skin? It’s thanks to you (or if you don’t have masks, he picks them up on the way home from practice)

But anyway you guys talk shit about people for a while and sit with the masks on (it’s usually him talking about how Oikawa is a bitch as much as he loves him) (or about whatever he and Mattsun were talking about lately)

You both get chances to vent while the masks sit on your face and you just vibe with music (usually that you pick) (he listens to like,,,meme songs and like CORPSE yk)

After masks you guys make/get some snacks and munch on those during another movie but this time you’re in comfy jammies and more relaxed Y’know

Less paying attention to the movie you’ve seen a million times and just vibing in each other’s presence and it’s just really sweet

Fall asleep on his chest

Let him fall asleep on yours

Either way, you’ve got him whipped for you he loves you

Not that he doesn’t already but that’s his favorite thing ever so please just let him do that

Always makes sure to tell you he loves you before you sleep too

If you fall asleep first he takes embarrassing pictures of you with your hair being a mess & you best bet he sends them to mattsun because “she’s so cute omfg” “dude” “dude what” “you’re so fuckin stupid” “?” “Whatever—good luck being whipped just tell me when you need to get a ring, k” “you’re such a jackass” “yeah yeah Gnight”

Zodiac/MBTI

Okay so I’m not doing a big long paragraph for all this BUT from what I understand, Gemini/Aquarius are really compatible, and ENTP and INFJ are known as “perfect matches” sO (I had a really hard time deciding between Atsumu and Makki because they're both ENTP)

Psst Gemini + Leo is compatible and so is INTP + INFJ,,,, so, again, asking you to marry me sho 💍💍

Aesthetic/Vibes

Playlist

Prelude and Fugue No. 1 in C major, BWV 846

Linus and Lucy by Vince Guaraldi Trio (meme song)

Sky Full Of Stars by The Piano Guys

Someone To You by The Piano Guys

Shut Up And Dance - Simply Three

Runners Up

Miya Atsumu, Tsukishima Kei

[roguerogerss]

Sorry is a Sorry Word

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Plot: Steve fucked up - bad. He doesn’t really know how, or if, he should say sorry, until Dustin gives him a pep talk.

W/C: 3.1k

A/N: Just now realising how long this is oops, sorry. My first Stranger Things fic! Finally. (watch this flop so hard lmao) Remember to like and reblog if you enjoy! It really helps me out. As always, requests are open and any and all feedback is appreciated <3

————

"Dustin, Please, just leave me alone." She lay back on her bed, tears streaming down her face and hair amiss from where she'd run her fingers through it. "I'm fine, I just...give me some time."

"But, we tell eachother everything." Her little brother sounded so small and defeated that it almost broke her heart in two. She could hear him leaning his back against the door, the back of his head thumping dully against the wood a second later. "I feel like we're drifting apart. You don't talk to me anymore."

"Dustin-"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry." Dustin cleared the remnants of his upset from his throat, "We can talk later. I get that you need time."

And with that, he'd left. She could hear his muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor of the hallway, walking away from her bedroom and back to his own. She knew that she wanted to talk to him and vent about all of the happenings of the day, but she couldn't bring herself to let her walls down in front of anyone about her current situation just yet.

It was Steve. And it was bad.

They'd been together for a year and ten months. He'd been there for her through thick and thin. Whenever their mom went MIA, something that happened more often than not, during the days and weeks and months that Y/N was left to take care of her thirteen year old brother on her own with no notice whatsoever, Steve was there. And he'd take Dustin out to the cinema, give him free ice cream, play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends - even though Steve had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons. He'd sleep over, make her feel like she wasn't alone. It filled her with pride to see him taking Dustin under his wing, more like a dad than even an older brother.

When they lost Hopper, who'd become more of a parental figure than she and Dustin's mom was to her, he was standing by her side at the funeral, hand grasping her own smaller one with force and squeezing it every so often, just to remind her that he was there. He was there after the funeral, too, when they went to the cabin and went through Hopper's things. He was there when she found the birthday present that Hopper had bought for her, a necklace with, 'you're pretty cool, kid', engraved on it. Hopper's way of saying that he loved her. It came with a letter, one that she cried so hard while reading that she couldn't see the words on the page.

The point was, that Steve had been there through everything. And now that they'd had a huge argument over - of all things - Nancy Wheeler, she was unsure of whether or not she'd have Steve to lean on anymore.

It wasn't so much a stupid argument as it was a stupid mistake on Steve's end. He even admitted to himself that what he'd done was more than a dick move. Tina was having a party, a big one, for old time's sake. Y/N wasn't invited, having been socially considered as 'uncool' while in High School, while Steve was invited. He said that it wasn't a big deal, it didn't matter, he wouldn't go.

Except that it was a big deal, it did matter, and, well, he did go.

He'd gotten really drunk, so drunk, in fact, that he had no recollection of the night at all and managed to stumble to Y/N's front door at five in the morning.

He'd told her that he went to the party, that he was sorry. She'd been mad, but she was so tired that she said she'd deal with it in the morning and told Steve to sleep it off on the sofa. Before going to sleep, however, Steve had told Y/N that he 'thought he might've kissed Nancy' that night.

They'd argued about it the next day. She'd dropped him off at home, neither of them speaking at all in the car, and they'd screamed at eachother in Steve's living room. Little did either of them know, Steve hadn't actually kissed Nancy, he was just so drunk that he made himself believe that he had. And then, Y/N told Steve that they were done, and he'd said 'fine', and she'd left and cried in her car for an hour.

And now, she was here. Crying on her bed, little brother probably thinking that one of her friends had died or something.

She hated herself for blowing up and flying off the handle and literally breaking up with Steve. Steve, on the other hand, hated himself for even going to the party, hated himself for - possibly - kissing Nancy, hated himself for going to Y/N's front door and waking her up so early in the morning.

In the grand scheme of things, Steve Harrington had been an asshole. And he was all too aware of it.

It had been around half an hour since she got home when Dustin knocked on the door again. This time, she'd managed to calm down enough to allow him to come inside. She looked horrifying, hair messed up, tear stained face, cuddling a pillow and wearing one of Steve's shirts, but Dustin was her brother, he had no right to judge her.

The door swung open slowly, and Dustin was there, grinning and holding two pints of ice cream, spoons, and some movies. "Thought we could put a movie on and eat. And you can tell me about your problems and I promise I'll listen."

"Is the ice cream cookie dough?" Y/N asked, sniffling, and a watery smile crossed her face. Dustin laughed, happy to see his sister perking up at least a little bit, even if it was over ice cream, and turned the carton to reveal to her that it was, in fact, cookie dough.

"Only the best." He tossed one of the cartons and a spoon at her, and turned on the TV set that sat across from her bed. "Besides, I know it's the only one you'll eat when you're sad."

"You know me entirely too well." She hugged her knees to her chest and dug into her ice cream, relishing in the taste of it for a second, "Oh my God, I haven't had this in so long. And the Scoops cookie dough is so bad."

"Right? I know Steve thinks it's the best, but he is so wrong." Little did Dustin know, one mention of his name would make Y/N's meltdown begin all over again. Soon enough, she was crying hot tears into her ice cream, and she allowed Dustin to lay his head on her shoulder while she explained everything.

"Okay, I have to go somewhere." Dustin knew what he had to do, and Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he got swiftly up from her bed. "I'll be like, maybe half an hour. But you can eat my ice cream if it starts to melt."

"Dustin! Don't leave me!"

"Watch the movie!"

And then he was gone, and she was by herself, with only some ice cream and E.T. to keep her company.

Meanwhile, Dustin had found Steve at work. He was insanely hungover - although, the headache and sickness had gone away thanks to Robin and her Tylenol, but the tiredness still remained - and reminded Dustin faintly of a particular zombie in Day of the Dead when he walked into Family Video to find him leaning on the counter. The grim look on his face wasn't so much because of the hangover, though, it was more to do with the fact that he and his girlfriend of nearly two years had broken up half an hour ago, and he'd been forced to go to work.

"If you're here to talk to Steve, I wouldn't. He nearly punched me when I asked him if he wanted Tylenol. And I'm a girl." Robin stopped Dustin at the front door, a serious look on her face, but he shrugged her off.

"It's fine. He won't do anything. Besides, I know what this whole thing's about. That's why I'm here." He tried to walk off again, but Robin grabbed his upper arm, tugging him back and making him elaborate.

"Is it Y/N? I think there was a fight between them or something. He’s never looked this rough.” Robin looked concerned, and she was. She’d never seen Steve so upset before. “He was crying when he came in.” She added.

Dustin shrugged, “Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him. He’ll be fine tomorrow.” He decided not to give Robin any more information on the situation in case Y/N or Steve would've gotten mad at him for it.

"Henderson, hey." Steve said quietly when he noticed that Dustin had entered the store. He looked like he'd been crying, and Robin was definitely right when she said he’d never looked rougher. "If you're here to hang out-"

"I'm not here to hang out, Steve. We have to talk." Dustin crossed his arms sternly over his chest, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of the store room. Steve grumbled and complied, unlocking the door and ushering Dustin inside.

"You have to apologise."

"Apologise? Apologise for - what exactly are we talking about?" Steve rubbed a hand exhaustedly over his face, leaning against a sealed box of movies that he was supposed to have put away by now.

"You know what for, Steve. Y/N. You hurt her. Like, really badly. I don't think I've ever seen her so upset." Steve already wanted Dustin to stop, but he continued, really wanting him to get the message of just how hurt his sister was. "She cried in her room for half an hour before she even let me talk to her, and now she's at home by herself, probably crying some more because you went to a stupid party. I mean, seriously man, couldn't you just have stayed home? What was so important about it?"

Steve threw his head back and hid his face with his hands, wanting the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He knew that he'd been a dick, he knew that he'd hurt her, but, Jesus, knowing the details made his heart flip in his chest and his stomach hurt. He hated seeing Y/N upset at the best of times, nevermind when it was his fault.

"Yeah. Yeah, I should've just left it. Jeez, Dustin, I'm such an asshole."

"Yes. An asshole, you are. And what was that other shit? About you kissing Nancy?"

"I didn't kiss Nancy, okay? My drunk mind just kinda...made me believe that I did. I called her today just to confirm." Steve swallowed, suddenly having the nausea of his hangover coming back to him.

"Does Y/N know that?" Dustin had his arms crossed, back against the wall, looking unimpressed as Steve shook his head. "Seriously man? Don't you think that the first thing you should've done after finding out that you didn't actually cheat on your girlfriend, was tell your girlfriend that you didn't actually cheat on her?"

"My head's all over the place, Henderson. Cut me some slack, okay?"

"You have to come say sorry, you know that, right?"

"I will. I will, I promise. I finish in an hour, why don't you go home, I'll buy some flowers, take a shower and get changed, and I'll come chap on your door like none of this even happened." Steve had suddenly perked up, gesturing with his arms and almost getting excited to initiate his plan.

"Yeah. Sure. But it better be good, Harrington. You better make her happy."

Steve didn't even have time to respond before Dustin was running off, getting on his bike, and cycling back home to his sister. He promised himself internally that he'd do all it took to make her happy.

Y/N had finished her ice cream and Dustin's had started to melt by the time he got home. She hadn't cried any more, had been too focussed on the movie, and Dustin was relieved to see her laughing at something on the screen when he entered her bedroom.

"Hey." She smiled. "Your ice cream's melting, you'd better eat it."

Dustin smiled and bellyflopped onto her bed, sending her into a fit of laughter. They both laughed so hard, in fact, that they barely heard the doorbell ring, and Dustin almost got up to go and get it.

He stopped himself though, not wanting Steve to call him an idiot or something along those lines. "You should go. I have to eat my ice cream before it melts." He said sheepishly, sitting back down from where he'd jumped up. Y/N rolled her eyes and threw the pillow that she was holding at Dustin's face.

"Alright, make your sad sister get the door because you have to eat ice cream." She stood up even as she spoke, knowing that Dustin wasn't going to budge. "Nice one, asshole."

Y/N had left her bedroom before Dustin could retaliate, bounding down the stairs and realising that, if anyone saw her the way that she looked now, they'd probably never respect her again. The doorbell went again, and she sighed quietly at the lack of patience from whoever was on the other side.

She - stupidly - didn't even bother to look out of the window that stood next to the door to check who it was before opening it, and nearly closed it again when she realised who was standing there.

"Hey, woah, don't close the door yet!" It was Steve, his eyes widened from the possibility that he'd come all the way to her house so that she could slam the door in his face, holding white lilies and a box of chocolates, which was - in Y/N's opinion - the cheesiest apology ever. "Just...listen? For like, a minute."

She slowly let her hand slide off of the door knob, watching as Steve relaxed a significant amount even from seeing her do that. "A minute." She crossed her arms over her chest, chewing her cheek. "You have a minute."

"Okay, uh, yeah, okay." Steve began his rambling. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone to that party, I know I shouldn't have gotten so drunk that I managed to convince myself that I kissed Nancy. Did I already say that I didn't actually kiss Nancy? I called her, and she said we didn't even speak. Bottom line is, I'm an asshole. I know that, and I hate myself for hurting you. Dustin told me how upset you were and I...I couldn't even comprehend the fact that I did that."

He paused, looking down at his feet and waiting for Y/N to say something. Something that didn't come, she simply stood, looking at and biting her fingernails, trying to figure out whether or not she should give in and forgive him or not, so he stopped waiting and spoke some more.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much. And I know that I fucked up, and I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Steve." Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, expecting that she'd look upset or annoyed, but she was smiling and shaking her head. "Come here."

"Seriously?" He already wished he hadn't said what he did before he'd even finished speaking. Seriously? What kind of thing to say was that? "I mean, you know-"

She was already hugging him before he could finish speaking. She knew that he'd ramble on for hours if he could, but she also knew that she already forgave him and didn't need to listen to his rambling. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost you, really, I did." He sighed into her hair, realising that he was probably ruining the bouquet of flowers with the way that he was crushing them against her back.

"Well, you were an asshole. You had every right to think you'd lost me." Steve had always loved her subtle sassiness, it was a habit that she often fell into unknowingly, but it made him chuckle.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I was an asshole."

She let go of him, finally, and stood back. He was wearing his light blue jeans, a black t-shirt and belt, with a blue jacket. It was an outfit that she'd seen him in before, quite a few times, but he never failed to look good in it anyway. His hair was slightly amiss, as though he'd gotten ready as quickly as he could - which was true, but she didn't know that for sure - but it still had his Steve 'the hair' Harrington charm.

"So, can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there and mock me?" He grinned and she stood to the side, allowing him to join her in the hallway. He went straight for the kitchen, taking out a vase and filling it up with water, then placing the flowers in it and leaving it on the kitchen counter.

"I didn't say you could-" She was trying to joke with him, but he didn't seem to care much, as he cut her off by dipping his head towards hers and kissing her passionately. He hated to admit it, probably something to do with the small part of his King Steve persona that he still carried around with him, but he'd missed her, and it had only been a few hours.

"Woah, easy tiger." Y/N laughed, pulling away when Steve's hands started to travel downwards. "We haven't even properly spoken yet."

"Yeah. Sorry." Steve said sheepishly. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiled down at the floor. "Do you wanna talk?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly."

"So, really, it's okay for me to do this," He closed the gap between them again, beaming at her while he searched her face for any sign of disapproval and admired the little flecks of contrasting colours that danced in her eyes. And then he kissed her again, lips soft against her own, gentle - something that wasn't widely believed, Steve Harrington was actually one of the most gentle people that Y/N had ever met.

"Well, yeah." She grinned, breathless. "But I'm sort of in the middle of watching a movie, wanna join?"

And so they spent the rest of the day, wrapped in the blankets on Y/N's bed and Y/N wrapped in Steve's arms, watching movies that Dustin fished out from the cabinet under the TV that Y/N didn't even know that they had.

She had to say, Steve's apologies were often cheesy and terrible, but this one wasn’t so bad as it was enjoyable.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Yo Momma

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x avenger!reader

Warning: None

Was just randomly thinking about how each avenger would react to a yo momma joke, hence the name of the one-shot

There's like 0.2% of fluff in this really it's just an avengers crack fic

(Starts in the first Thor movie)

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

You first met Thor of Asgard when you were just nine years old.

Of course, you hadn't known who he was at first. No one did. He was just another new face at the little diner your mom loved until he smashed a mug on the floor while yelling, "This drink, I like it. ANOTHER!"

Your mom always taught you that it was rude to stare, but at this point the entire diner went quiet as everyone watched the man with long blond hair who, though he was wearing normal clothing, looked so out of place.

Even once the diner went back to normal, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

"Mom, that man's weird," you whispered as you watched the brown-haired woman in front of him attempt to explain why crashing a cup is wrong, which he was obviously not seeming to understand.

"Don't stare, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know what his deal is but we're not trying to find out, okay?"

"Okay," you replied, still finding it hard to keep your eyes off of the strange man.

"Now I'm gonna go to the restroom, alright. While I'm gone, stay in your seat and mind your business," she ordered. "I don't need to come back having to rip you from the hands of a giant."

You nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The second she left, you looked back at where the man had thrown the mug to see that no-one had picked it up. Frowning, you walked over with your hands on your hips. "Excuse me," you said, tapping the man on the shoulder, gaining his table's attention.

The brown haired woman smiled. "Awww, hi sweetie!"

"Are you going to clean that up?," you asked, pointing towards the mess on the floor.

In return, he scoffed, pushing your hand off of his shoulder. "Go away, little girl."

"My momma says you look like a giant," you noted.

Another woman at the table, this one in glasses, snickered. "Well, she wasn't wrong about that."

The strange man rubbed his chin as he looked down on you. "Little girl," he called out with a small scowl. "Have you no mind of who I am?"

You tilted your head. "Uh, what?"

The brown haired woman laughed nervously. "I already told you, Thor, or whoever you think you are.. no one knows you here."

"Thor's a weird name." You crossed your arms and gave a childish glare. "And you have a weird voice," you added.

Thor rolled his eyes, somehow becoming as emotionally invested in the argument as you, a child, were. "You're a weird, tiny, little girl."

You stuck out your lips. "You're mom's a weird, tiny, little girl!," you yelled back before walking back to your booth. Once there, you turned your body around in your seat. "In fact, your momma's so ugly, she went into a haunted house and came out with a job application!"

"Oh, shit!" The brown haired girl and her friend laughed as they watched Thor's face turn red.

"You keep my mother's name out of your filthy mouth, you-"

Your mother walked out of the restroom and grabbed your hand to leave the diner. "Come on, [Y/N]. Ready to go?"

You shot a shit-eating grin back to Thor's table, having gotten away with your little bout of disobedience, before turning back to your mom. "Yes ma'am."

If only you knew that diner experience would come back to bite you in the butt much later...

~~

You were sixteen when you met Thor of Asgard, again.

"Don't be nervous, kid," Happy told you as you watched the elevator numbers go up. "They're not really that intimidating. Plus, we just got a new kid and he's your age, so you'll be fine if you just keep your head on straight."

"Okay," you mumbled, tapping your foot on the ground anxiously.

It wasn't long ago when Iron Man found you while he was flying through New York. He hadn't even noticed you at first, but the pure energy radiating from you was jamming J.A.R.V.I.S.'s system and well, normal people don't just have pure energy radiating from them.

You discovered your power when you were twelve years old. It was something you hid, until he found you and decided that you didn't need to hide it anymore. Where he would take you, you could actually be yourself, powers and all.

You were going to be meeting the Avengers. You were going to be an Avenger.

"Seriously," Happy groaned. "You're actually heating up the entire elevator. Calm down."

"Sorry," you said, only just then noticing your fingers were lighting up. You took in a deep breath, focusing on calming your nerves. But there was one thing that was just bugging you.

The day the Avengers first saved the world, it was broadcasts EVERYWHERE. Everyone knew who they were.

And it totally was more than just a simple shock to you when you recognized the face on your tv screen.

The guy literally bashing aliens to smithereens was the guy who was at the diner. The guy who'd saved the earth several times since then was that guy.

And you joked on his mom right to his face.

"Question."

"Shoot."

"Does Thor have good memory?"

Happy's brows drew together at the random question. "Uh, I dunno. Why exactly?"

You shook your head nervously. "No reason."

The doors of the elevator opened and you were met with the largest, more than likely most expensive living room you've ever seen (and will ever see) in your entire life.

Sitting on the couch was a teenage boy. A really cute teenage boy in a striped button up shirt. At the sound of the elevator opening, he turned his head from the tv screen to look over. His eyes lit up in recognition at seeing you and he immediately ran over.

"Um, hi!," he greeted. "My name's Peter. Mr. Stark told me to give you the tour when you get here." He held his hand out for you to shake.

The second your palms touched, he immediately pulled away, a yelp of pain coming from his lips. "You're hands are like- REALLY HOT!"

"Oh, sorry!," you said, giving an apologetic smile. "I'm just really nervous."

He held his hand carefully, holding it by his side. "So I take it you have fire powers or something?"

"Pure energy," you corrected. "I can manifest it from my body into these really big blasts and stuff."

"That's super cool!"

You blushed. "Thanks, but I'm still learning to control it. If I get too emotional, it gets pretty bad."

Peter smiled, placing his hand on your shoulder (which was covered up with clothing). "Well, that's what we're here for, [Y/N]. To get better."

He led you down the hall, showing you different rooms and all the places you were allowed to go in. You even had a room of your own. One you could customize however you wished. Needless, to say, you knew you'd enjoy your time there.

And on top of it all, Peter turned out to be just one big ball of perfection. He was sweet, he listened, and holy crap was he cute.

"So," you asked. "What's your power?"

Peter's mouth curved into a smile. "Follow me." You followed him to a room that wasn't too far from yours. You chuckled, noticing how giddy he was being as he unlocked the door.

He led you into the room and you gasped as the first thing you laid your eyes on was a big Spiderman graffitied onto the wall of the room.

"Holy cow, dude. You're Spiderman!"

"Yep," he answered with a smirk. "Oh! And now that you're one of us, that means you get to make a name and have a cool suit too! You're gonna love it here-"

"Parker, is that the new recruit?," a new voice broke in.

You noticed that Peter immediately stood up a bit straighter, so you followed suit as you looked at who the man was. "Uh, yes sir, this is [Y/N]."

Your eyes went wide. "You're Captain America!," you gasped.

He nodded in return. "Steve. Nice to meet you. Come on, come meet the rest of the team."

You gave a nervous chuckle as you walked forward, following wherever Steve was leading you.

"Hey," Peter said, nudging you in the arm. "Relax. They'll be really nice."

You nodded. "Mhmm. Hey, question." He turned, giving you a helpful smile. "Does Thor have a good memory?"

He chuckled. "That's an oddly specific question. Any particular reason you ask that?" Peter looked at you jokingly. "You didn't flip him off in the street or anything, did you?"

You shook your head. "Nah. Not exactly."

Peter gave you a questioning look as the two of you followed Cap into a large dining room.

You looked around and there you saw every single avenger you'd ever heard of. Hawkeye eating a turkey burger. The Winter Soldier and Falcon seemingly playfully arguing over some tv show. Tony frickin' Stark running his fingers through some little girl's hair. Black Widow sitting at the dinner table having a peaceful conversation with some guy with glasses that you couldn't recognize.

And of course, Thor sitting in a seat facing away from the door, nursing a mug in his hand.

Just like last time, you thought. You sucked in a breath. Fuckkkk. Please don't remember me.

"Hey," Peter whispered. "You're getting really hot right now. You should relax."

"Oh," you said, taking another deep breath. "Thanks."

Tony looked over from where he was sitting. "Well don't just stand there. Introduce yourself, [Y/N]!," he yelled.

And slowly they all turned towards you, even Thor. His eyes met yours and your eyes met his. His face lit up in recognition and immediately all of the words fell out of you as you found yourself running to him.

"I'm SO so sorry okay?!?!? Look, I know I KNOW- believe me I do- that I was SUCH A JERK b-but... you gotta UNDERSTAND okay???? I was only NINE and I was stupid and dumb and would say just about ANYTHING at that age - but I mean you gotta admit that youwerealsokindofajerktoo- BUT I MEAN THAT'S TOTALLY FINE OKAY??? IT HAPPENS. IT'S NATURAL!! But like please PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME Mr. Thor I'm SO SORRY I'll literally do ANYTHING!!"

You were breathless when you finished your frantic apology, staring desperately at the God of Thunder with large 'please don't kill me' eyes.

The rest of the room was silent, everyone either waiting expectantly for what was next to come or silently conversing with their eyes, all basically saying to each other 'what the heck was that'.

Thor stared back at you, his expression unclear.

"Thor, anything to say to that?," Tony called out, having no idea what had just happened but being extremely amused nonetheless.

The long, blond haired man furrowed his brow and slowly placed his mug down on the table in front of him. He looked back at you and smirked.

"Tell him the joke," he said, pointing at Tony.

"What joke?," Natasha asked.

Thor chuckled. "When she was a smaller human, this girl and I met at a diner. She spoke very rudely of my mother. It wasn't until Jane explained to me what a 'your mother joke' is that I fully came to appreciate it."

"Dude, you joked on Thor's mom?!," Peter exclaimed, half-shocked, half-amazed.

Thor looked back at you. "In retrospect, it was quite hilarious."

You stared back, jaw hanging in shock. "Y-you're not gonna kill me- I-i mean, you're not angry?"

He laughed as he pointed towards Tony again. "Do him!"

You looked to Tony who was sitting back in his chair, holding his arms up in a "bring it on" fashion. "Uh...um, your mom's so ugly..she-ah.. she went into a haunted house and came out with a job application..."

Peter gasped. "You said that to THOR?!"

You blushed. "Look, I'm not proud of it either okay?"

"Oh we're gonna get along nicely, kid," Falcon, who you would soon come to know as Sam, snickered.

"So do you actually do anything or are ya just a smartass?," Rhodes quipped, causing you to immediately mumble some choice words under your breath.

Tony nearly cackled. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing," you lied.

Peter coughed. "[Y/N], your eyes are kind of glowing."

Bucky looked to Bruce. "I think you're gonna have to work on anger with her or something, bud."

"No wait really, what'd you say?," Tony said, still laughing.

You shook your head, but everyone was staring at you again. Ugh, might as well.

"...your mom's so old I told her to act her age and she died..."

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter one: cupid fucked up

part two of sudden desire

prologue / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x female original character

warnings: mentions of divorce?

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: not much to say other than i decided this isn’t going to have any smut & it’s just going to be cute af because i’m not comfortable writing it and also the whole issue with under 18s reading & engaging in 18+ content makes things worse. so just enjoy this mostly wholesome but also sad and angsty fic about everyone’s favourite FBI agent falling in love :)

At first, Loren Hull wanted to throw Coraline Meyer a divorce party. Some massive, elaborate party with all their friends. "To celebrate the fact my best friend is finally free!" She'd explained, the day the final paperwork came through. But Coraline decided against it, making some paper-thin excuse that she had some work thing that she couldn't get out of. So, instead, she finds herself alone and sprawled out under far too many blankets on her couch, eating spoonfuls of ice cream like her life depended on it, watching some shitty horror film. At first, she’d tried watching some equally-shitty rom-com but the happy moments made her cry, which she found completely pathetic and embarrassing. Instead, she's resorted to laughing at the characters in the first cliche horror she could find for being so stupid and letting themselves get killed. She'd been in a couple of cheap horrors when she'd first started acting; they were all embarrassingly bad and Coraline likes to pretend they'd never happened.

The doorbell rings halfway through some drawn-out chase scene, fake screams falling from the blonde actress' mouth as some knife-wielding maniac in a cheap mask hunts her down. Coraline begrudgingly hauls herself up from her comfy position on the sofa and shuffles towards the door, socks scuffing across the carpet. The moment the blankets fall away, she’s freezing again, though she’s vaguely aware that her apartment’s about fifty degrees too hot. Still, she wraps her cardigan tighter around herself, finding it impossible to shift the shivers.

Coraline’s greeted by the grinning face of Marcus Pike. "Hey, sunshine." He grins.

Sunshine. The nickname he'd given her the first day they'd met, when she'd shown up far too early to a briefing. Cora’s older brother, Daniel, had been opening an art gallery in downtown D.C. and was convinced scammers were already trying to sell him fake paintings for exceptionally high prices. Marcus and his team were tasked with helping out; Coraline had been roped in by her brother to help, since she’d be there for the grand opening.

She’d been wearing some bright yellow dress she'd found at the back of her wardrobe; he'd complimented her when he'd arrived a few minutes later and it had been so long since anyone had given her a genuine compliment that she'd grown flustered and almost spilt coffee down herself. They'd grown closer and closer since then and she had no hesitation in calling him one of her best friends.

Marcus holds up a paper bag. "I brought Chinese food."

"Oh, you're an angel." Cora returns Marcus' grin, opening the door wide enough for him to step inside. She takes the bag from him and cradles it close to her like it’s a newborn baby, the warmth flushing through her body.

"I try." He chuckles as she pulls him into a hug. They hold each other close for a while, lingering just a little longer than normal, her hand clutching at the back of his t-shirt a little tighter.

Coraline slumps back onto the couch when they finally let each other go. She immediately combs through the bag in search of the chow mein she knows will be in there; their weekly Chinese takeout nights have become a tradition in the few months they've known each other and he knows her order like the back of his hand.

Marcus settles into the armchair opposite, grabbing his own food. "Happy divorce day, by the way."

Coraline groans. She'd hoped he'd forgotten about that — she hadn't mentioned it to him, either. The less said about it, the better. "Oh, god, don't remind me." She flings her head back dramatically against the couch cushions. "But, hey, I'm a single woman now. You should take your shot while you still have chance. I'm in high demand." She jokes.

"Are they lining up at your door?" Marcus chuckles, leaning forward in his chair.

"You know it, I'm a catch." She mumbles through a mouthful of noodles, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Marcus smiles wistfully over at her.

"Anyone would be lucky to have you, Cora."

"Oh, please." She snorts; she can feel her cheeks flushing as pink as the blanket she sits beneath. She still finds herself taken aback whenever he compliments her, she can’t help it. There’s just something about the way he seems to mean it that makes her heart swell inside her chest. She stares down at her food and pokes at an onion with the end of her chopsticks, hoping he won’t notice the bright flush of red that has swept across her face. "I'm never falling in love again, anyway."

"Why?"

Coraline looks up at him through her lashes. He’s still staring at her as she pokes at her noodles. "Too much unnecessary heartbreak." She pokes her toe out from under her blankets, nudging the half-empty pint of ice cream she'd been eating before he arrived. It’s melting and staining a ring onto her coffee table. It makes her shiver more than she already was. "I'd rather not go through the trauma again."

"Don't be so dramatic." He sniggers, kicking her lightly in the ankle.

Coraline fakes offence. She pokes Marcus back, furrows her eyebrows and pouts. "I'm not dramatic," she mumbles, ignoring the fact half an hour earlier she'd been crying into her ice cream like some character in the movie she'd been watching. "I just don't want to get hurt again."

Coraline has always had a problem with heartbreak. It seems to follow her. It happens too quickly, too often, and each time it chips away a little more at her heart. She's started to think that it’s inevitable, now. The sum of her heartbreak just makes her fragile.

Her first heartbreak at thirteen made her feel like her world was ending. By her second, at nineteen, she realised just how trivial that had been. The third heartbreak was the worst. It came at the expense of her younger sister Eve, barely seventeen with so many hopes and dreams, snatched away by a drunk driver on one quiet Sunday morning, as the sun shone brightly and the breeze ruffled the trees. The pain hit her where she was weak and left a spider-web of cracks inside her mind. She patched herself up with fractured smiles and make-believe until a little more sunshine crept through and she was herself again. Or, at least, half of herself.

When the fourth came, at the hands of the very person who'd helped her through the darkness, the person who stood by her side as she pulled the broken pieces of her heart back together, she was almost numb. Almost. It was almost like there was nothing left to break, nothing left to feel. Except there was and the cracks inside her threatened to burst apart.

Coraline has always known that hearts are easily broken, even when she was a child. The idea had never phased her until she felt it and it hurt more and more and more, until her bones were hollow and straining to hold together the pieces of her aching heart as it tried to tumble from her chest.

The thought of getting hurt again is a little too much.

Marcus smiles. "I get that." He’s silhouetted by the warm light of a street lamp that streams in through the window behind him. It turns the ends of his hair golden and his eyes amber as he tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure something out. Amber eyes gaze over the slight furrow of her brow and the glimmer that has appeared in her green eyes. "I hate him for hurting you, for making you think that way."

Coraline shakes her head. "Don't." She smiles, a great big beaming smile, that she’s worried might come off as fake, flashing across her face. "It was inevitable." Truthfully, she was half-gone before Scott even met her, dwelling too heavily on past heartbreak. They were perfectly wrong for each other; they'd both known it for a few years before things had turned sour but, back then, pretending to live in some blurry version of perfection, both silently screaming because it wasn't right. They weren't meant to be. They didn't work anymore, and hadn't for far too long. "And it was my fault, too."

When she and Scott first met, something made them believe things would work out. Opposites attract or some made-up cliché shit like that. She'd found herself drawn so quickly towards him; he was confident and sure of himself and he gave her this smile that sent welcome shivers through her bones. They got caught up in a whirlwind, pushing and pulling them, unrelenting. Things just moved too fast and they loved far too much, then far too little.

Coraline just wants to fall in love, slowly, to feel it smouldering so deep down in her bones for months before she realises what it is, when she’s head over heels and has fallen so deeply there‘s no way out. She doesn’t want to feel forced into loving someone, to spend her days convincing herself that she does. Because there would be nothing to doubt, she'll just know with complete and utter unwavering certainty. And she just wants someone to love her back, really, truly love her back, without compromise. Someone who’ll treat her right because he wants to, not because he has to.

"Aren't you hot under all those blankets?" Marcus questions. He's been wearing a suit jacket beneath his coat — it was so cold outside that the rain turned to ice the moment it hit the sidewalk — and he huffs out an uncomfortable deep breath as he pulls it off. "It's ridiculous in here."

"I'm always hot." She jokes with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. She tucks the blankets — all four of them — up under her chin. "But I'm freezing."

Coraline has had shivers set deep in her bones for months now. She can never seem to keep warm, permanently troubled by a chill that flushes through her. It’s becoming a real problem. Mostly because her heating bill is almost double that of normal, from the sheer number of times she dials the thermostat up as high as it will go.

Marcus scrunches up his jacket and throws it at her. She bats it away before it hits her square in the face, the button narrowly missing her eye. "Hey!" She protests, poised to launch the jacket back across the room directly towards his head.

"Wear it." He insists before chuckling as her expression softens. "Another layer to keep you warm."

"Oh.” Another pause, weighing up his expression, her eyebrow half-cocked in mild scepticism. But he seems genuine. “Thank you."

...

Coraline must have fallen asleep half an hour later. She'd trailed off mid-sentence, eyes fluttering closed, breath falling steady as she relaxed against the couch cushions. She's barely slept lately — an infuriating result of worrying about her impending divorce and a hectic filming schedule that is still in full swing — and neither she, nor Marcus, is surprised that sleep has prematurely pulled her under.

When she finally reopens her eyes, the dull light of daybreak is threatening to spill through the curtains and everything is neat. Marcus is gone; the entire apartment is silent, save for the soft hum of voices from some old black-and-white rerun on the TV. She doesn’t remember falling asleep or even closing her eyes; the last thing she remembers is Marcus throwing her his jacket and them talking for a while about nothing in particular as she’d turned off the horror film that had been playing in the background the whole time. She’s still wearing that jacket, now, her fingers tangled in the sleeves that are far too long for her. The jacket still smells like him, all familiar and comforting.

Coraline pokes her head out from underneath the blankets that are covering half her face. Her head had been resting on a small couch cushion when she'd fallen asleep — she'd been far too lazy to grab any others — but now the pillows from her bed prop her head up. Marcus must have put them there before he left; sometimes she sleeps so deeply that she isn’t surprised he hadn’t accidentally woken her up.

She finally manages to peel herself from the spot on the couch she's been laid on for over twelve hours, her knees protesting with a loud crack, every blanket tumbling to the floor. Her feet brush from her rug to the cold wooden floor and she shivers again because, of course, she’s unbearably cold again. Only her hands, that are stuffed into the pockets of Marcus' jacket, are warm.

The apartment is always quiet, now. Especially since Scott had moved out. Everything just feels empty, like she’s living in the house of a ghost, passing by empty picture frames that she's been too distracted to fill. She’s sure that Marcus has cleaned before he left; the half-melted tub of ice cream and empty Chinese food cartons are gone and even the dirty dishes she'd dumped in the sink have been washed and tucked away in the cupboard.

It’s the smallest of gestures, bringing her pillows so she’s comfortable and throwing out the trash, probably small and insignificant to anyone else. But the idea of doing any of it had bled all the energy from Coraline's bones and she’s so grateful.

She’s so painfully and heartbreakingly grateful for Marcus Pike and he has no idea.