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primofate · 3 years

Text

Genshin Modern AU - Stress and Comfort

Summary: Woke up late. Missed a class. Forgot that assignment due. Another one due in two days. People are downplaying the things that you do. It’s raining and you don’t have an umbrella. Sometimes the little things pile up all in one day and it feels like all you want to do is to get it over with... and your boyfriend to make everything better.

Warnings: crying, stress, mood swings, other than that it’s fluff

Characters: Kaeya, Zhongli x gn!reader

Notes: Also a commission <3 Thank you for the love. Once again if you want something written for you I have cheap rates XD and I’ll always accommodate to your wants! Just leave me a message!

Kaeya

“Hey, Y/N, do you know how to write this part of the essay?” It wasn’t as if you were a particularly good student. But somehow, the people in your class liked asking you because you were accommodating. Ready to help with a smile on your face. Always there to turn to and rely on. “Yeah, it’s just like this…” and you spend nearly an hour explaining it.

“Oh gosh, I don’t think I can finish this part of the presentation tonight, something came up at home,” Group projects were sometimes difficult too. You understood. Things happened, but when they happened, you’d be the first one to say, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it,” Even though the presentation is tomorrow, even though you barely get enough sleep for the next day. A part of you just wants to quickly get it over with.

“You said this would come out on the test… It wasn’t even there…” The worst part of it is not even receiving any thanks. It’s the way that they look at you when you make a mistake, despite all of the good things you’ve done for them, one mistake, and they make you out and guilt you to be a bad person.

“Your analysis is all wrong, Y/N. This part over here…” Sometimes the price of that was paying with your own grade. You try to listen as the lecturer explains a part of your essay. You’re listening, but it just doesn’t register in your mind. Something about misunderstanding the concept. Those concepts that you’ve tried so hard to remember and to understand. In the end they were all mixed up and confused.

Perhaps the lecturer sees the deflated look in your eyes, and ends quite happily. “Just do better in the next one!” pats your back and lets you leave, handing you your essay graded with a C.

Do better in the next one. Easier said than done.

You shove the paper in your bag without giving it a second glance.

The cafeteria. It was slightly late for lunch but you like it that way. There weren’t a lot of people at this time, which meant you didn’t have to fight for seats. Still, as you put in your order and bring your tray of food to the nearest seat that you see, you somehow bump into someone who topples over your chosen lunch, the tray completely doing a flip and landing on your chest, then on the ground with a plop and rattle.

There’s an ugly stain on your shirt. Forget about hiding it, it had to be washed. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” and yet they can only stare at the stain. What else could they do? Dabbing it with wet tissue would just make it worse. “It’s…fine,” you wave them away, but you leave the mess on the floor in a hurry and in an embarrassed state.

You sigh once outside again. Deciding that today was enough, you make your way home.

Even then, as you sit at your study table, all washed up and changed, sketching a little something on your tablet, your mother stands at the door, observing.

“…What does that do for you?”

You jump a little in surprise and turn, looking at her blank expression. “What does what do for me?”

“That, your drawing. You’re always on the computer or tablet Y/N. If not that, then your sketchbook. That’s all you ever do,”

You turn around because you don’t want to argue. You don’t want to hear her complaining about how you do nothing but stay in all day after lessons and play games and draw. It was one of the biggest forms of comfort you had for yourself and yet she--

“Maybe try a part time job or join a club or some—”

“Mom, I’m still trying to adjust to uni,”

Why does no one understand how difficult it is to juggle the classes and do all the readings required? Why do I have to do so many things all at the same time? Can’t I do it when I choose to and when I’m ready? Can’t I do things that I enjoy?

“The degree you chose won’t even pay the bills…” You hear her mutter as she walks away. Footsteps receding into the hallways.

You push your tablet away and lay your head face down on the table. You’re trying not to lose it and finally, whatever higher being up there hears your plea to give you a break.

A phone call from Kaeya comes through.

“…Hey,” you answer.

“Hey, hun. You haven’t been replying to my messages,” there’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice. He just thinks you’ve fallen asleep or taken a nap at home or something.

“…Yeah, I—” You try to explain. You try to say that you weren’t feeling well. That you didn’t feel like talking. But would he understand? Everyone today seemed to be against you. “I just, fell asleep,” You lie and there’s a few seconds of silence on the other side.

“…You sure?” Now there’s a hint of unease in his voice. The playfulness is gone. “You ok? Do you want me to come over?” Somehow he senses that it isn’t just “falling asleep”. His simple worry and caring attitude towards you breaks whatever composure you had left. You accidentally let out a sniffle as tears start to pool in your eyes.

“Hey… You don’t have to talk to me, but I’ll come over right now, okay?” The sniffle was enough to tell him that perhaps something had went wrong. You couldn’t help but let out a few more sniffles as tears slowly trickles down your face.

“O-okay,”

Minutes later your blue-haired boyfriend shows up at your doorstep. Despite your mom being a little hard on you earlier, when she opens the door to see him, she smiles and says. “I think they were having a bad day, I might have been a little harsh on them too,” Kaeya only grins and points a thumb to his chest. “No problem, that’s what I’m here for,” He’s still wearing his volleyball jersey.

He knocks softly on the door, “Y/N?” there’s a plastic bag in his other hand.

When you open the door your eyes were already a little red around the edges, but seeing him made your lips tremble and fresh tears fall out. “Shh… You’re okay.” He wraps you in his arms, plastic bag rustling, his hand smooths your hair down and the other rubs your back as you cry out your frustrations for the day.

The two of you stay there for what seems like a long time. You hiccupping into his chest and trying to calm down. At some point he moves the both of you on the bed and lets you curl up against him. When you finally ease up, he pulls away slightly to look at your face, then brushes away the wetness still lingering on your cheeks. “Feel better?” He whispers, as if being too loud will break you again.

You smile a little and nod at how gentle he was being. He smiles back and leans in to press a kiss on your forehead. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Whatever it is, just talk to me when you’re ready,” and it hits you so hard how much he’s willing to just be there with you, even though he doesn’t know what’s happening. How he wasn’t going to judge you for what you say or what you do and your face crumples and grimaces into a face that tells him you’re trying not to cry. “D-Did I say something wrong?” He’s a little startled, but you laugh a little through small droplets of tears that you wipe away by yourself. “No, you idiot. I’m just happy you’re here,”

He sighs and relaxes, taking his own hand and pinching your cheek, pulling at it a little. “Who’s the idiot? Crying and laughing at the same time?” He was joking, of course. He’d only do so when he knew you could take it. You swat his hand away with a slight glare, and he knows that he’s got a little bit of the normal you back. “Alright, come on, here,” He suddenly sits up and presents the plastic bag that he’s been holding all that time.

“Ice-cream, your favourite flavour,” rummages into it and takes out a tub the size of two fists, a little damp from the melted moisture. He’s got spoons in there too. Slowly, as you eat the tub together, you tell him about what’s been going on in uni. How people just expected you to help when you could. How you got nothing in return. How you try really hard and they somehow still end up piling on negativity into your life.

“…It’s okay to help, Y/N,” he thoughtfully says, mouth muffled cause his spoon was still in his mouth. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too,” then he scoops another bite. “…But even if you don’t…it’s okay,” he looks up at the ceiling. “If you don’t take care of yourself…Then I’ll do it. That’ll be my job. Forever,”

You lay your head on his shoulder as he says this, still eating from your spoon “I love you,”. He smiles and presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Love you too. I’m always just a phone call away, babe,”

Zhongli

“Is there something on your mind? You’ve been quiet for the past hour,” Nothing slips by Zhongli. He’s observant. He knows you don’t feel like eating by the way you’re picking at your food. Knows that you don’t want to talk because you don’t even meet his eyes.

“…Nothing, really,” You just didn’t have the energy to talk about it.

He feels as if this date has gone awry, and he didn’t even know where he went wrong. Though, if he had to guess, it wasn’t his fault. You were just in a particularly bad mood. Not that the two of you were anywhere fancy, it was just your usual sit-down restaurant at a mall across the university.

To him, the right thing to do was give you the space you needed. So, after walking you to your room that night, he’d wait till the morning to contact you. Imagine his surprise when none of his calls go through. None of his texts were returned. He was beside himself with worry when suddenly, near the afternoon, he finally gets word from you.

“Sorry Li, I feel a little sick today. Don’t worry though, I’ll be fine in no time,”

You’re bad at lying. Or was he just good at reading you? You tend to have the habit of withdrawing when you’re out of energy. To give too much without any regards to your own state, your own feelings. Sometimes you don’t realize that you had to watch over yourself too.

It’s nearly 8 at night when he knocks at your dorm room. Zhongli went through a few steps to make sure your roommate would be out tonight. It was from them that he found out you hadn’t left the room at all today, but that you weren’t sick.

“Oh… Zhongli,” You’re surprised at the amount of things he’s holding. There’s a plastic bag that seems to nearly be popping and in his other hand was a mysterious paper bag. Under his arm he’s tucked his laptop with him. He lived in the dorms too, and if someone saw him now, it would look as if he was moving into your room. “You could’ve just asked me to come over to yours,” his eyes trail away, a certain brown-headed roommate pops up in his mind.

“No, Tartaglia’s in tonight,” You make a sound of understanding. His roommate was rather…special. Too energetic for your tastes, and sometimes nosy. “What do you have there?” You ask and invite him in. He chucks the plastic bag on your bed, lays down the laptop on your table along with the mystery paper bag. He notes that you’re already in your sleepwear, which was perfect. He starts to take out a throw blanket from the plastic bag and a hoodie.

“…This..is?” You’re a little baffled by what he’s trying to convey. “…My throw blanket that you like so much…and you said you like wearing my hoodie,” then he points at the laptop. “Do you want to watch a movie in bed? I have popcorn too,”

Then you realize that he’s trying to make you feel better. He’s figured out that you weren’t really sick, possibly just mentally drained. You smile at him and lean in for a hug, to which he responds to by wrapping his arms around your back and whispering. “…I’m not…really good at these things… Tartaglia said it might make you feel better…” You chuckle in his embrace and could imagine the kind of conversation they had.

“You’re the best Zhongli,” he secretly smiles while rubbing your back up and down. He doesn’t ask questions as to why you’ve been acting the way you do, but you’re the one who offers him the answer. “It’s just school… Too many things have been piling up… My class they… They’re really nice people you know? But just… there are times where I wish they would stop asking me for help, but it feels so selfish of me… I have my own things too, but they never think about that…”

It’s always about them, you want to say, but keep your mouth shut. He runs his hand through your hair gently, internalizing the things that you’ve said. “…I see… Would you like to hear what I think?” He’d ask first, because he knew sometimes that you didn’t really want an answer. You just wanted to be listened to. You nod against his chest, you could feel his heart beating from the closeness. “I think, you’re a very selfless person, Y/N,” he places a kiss on your head. “There’s nothing wrong in wanting to take a break from time to time, you deserve it,” and he guides you over to your bed, wrapping the two of you up in his throw blanket. Laptop on, popcorn in the mystery paper bag as you put his hoodie on. It smells just like him.

His back leans against the wall and you’re in the safety of his arms. You’re practically in his lap, encased in his scent and warmth. He’d managed to prop his laptop up on a pile of books and the two of you watch a random movie on the screen. You were paying attention to it, but you couldn’t help but be more interested in the way his chest rises and falls. You can feel him against you, and the comfort it brings is like no other.

You turn away from the screen and rest your head at the nape of his neck. He looks down, movie still playing and asks “Tired?” You shake your head, eyes closed. “No, I’m just enjoying this…” There’s a small rumble from his chest as he lets out a small “Mm,” his eyes are glued to your face. Movie forgotten.

“…Y/N, I’ll always… be next to you,” Your eyes flutter open a little to look up at him, curious. “…Always?” He nods his head firmly to confirm, and you lean up a little to press a sweet and quick kiss on his lips. “Even when I’m not my best and I’m moody?” He chuckles at that and responds with a remark that might have slightly brought tears to your eyes.

“Especially when you’re not at your best, I’ll be there. Just call,”

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#genshin impact #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli fluff #kaeya fluff

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Rush Hour

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | whilst on the way to an interview, you and Sebastian are stuck in traffic. There seems to be only one way to pass the time that comes to mind.

Warnings | smut, fingering, teasing, slight voeyurism I guess (on the phone?)

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It was stressful, viewing how parades of cars, lined up in their designated sections filled the large road. It appeared as none of them were going to start moving for a while, and it made you bite your lip in frustration. Out of all days, it had to be this very one, when you had to assign your presence within a specific slot of time.

You and Sebastian had even left early, as insurance that you would arrive at your destination on time, but now, you had severe doubts that you would. And those doubts, within the past few minutes, had became incredible high. It looked as though there was no chance of escaping this frozen parade for the current and important time being.

Even the simplicity of looking out the window made you slightly mad, you had places to be, as you assumed many other people that were under the same predicament were too, but for the meanwhile, you weren’t going anywhere. The lines of vehicles were stuck in some kind of limbo, stricken by the same thundering of karma at once.

Your significant other was behind the wheel, tapping his long fingers upon the round gear, causing your attention to divert up to his talented digits. As you studied them and their smooth exterior, an idea rendered in your fuming mind, and so, to put it into action, you slyly placed one of your own hands to rest upon his upper thigh.

Sebastian, instead of waving off the affection, smiled at it, thinking that it was nothing more than a tender instinct to also calm him down. The bet was, his agent would have his ass for showing up late, well aware that they had been the one to arrange this press in order to promote the latest of your shared projects.

However, he had not expected in this bustling, and public surrounding moment that you would creep your grip up higher, and so he tensed as you did just that. But he chose to allow you to continue for now, his front deep digging solely into his lower lip to express some of the tension that he was under whilst stuck in the car.

It was impossible to predict how long the pair of you would be stuck in the moving box, and it seemed that you had configured a way in your mind to pass it. One that had lead to your fingers dancing over his trousers, and making him groan lightly in anticipation.

His cobalt eyes snapped towards you though as you removed your hand. To put it simply, you were teasing him, riling him up in the constricted amount of space. It relented you no escape from him, nor his uptake in revenge. And as you shrouded under his gaze against the inside of the passenger side door, you gulped.

Perhaps, you thought, you should have just kept your hands to yourself. And then, you would not have been stuck in this predicament of being cursed with his winter glare; it made you feel like melting ice cowering into the level below. For a second, you wished the controls of the radio volume had the ability to reverse time, so that you could correct your mistake.

The feeling of his hands abandoning the wheel, considering that the car was not going to be continuing moving on the road for a while, and drifting towards the bottom seam of your skirt had you inhaling as much air as your lungs would allow. It would not be the first instance of which he put his earnest skin upon yours in public, but with all around being still on one spot, a part of you worried sincerely of a noticed fan grabbing their phone with their clammy hands, and recording the interaction.

And if done, the interval, whilst stuck in one, would be painted sourly over the entire internet. There would be an assortment of clashing reviews; some lustful and imagining what it would be like to be trapped in the car with you two, and others shaming of your indecency. And to say the magazines and online articles would have a field day, well, that would be an understatement.

Seb drifted his feather light touch up higher, brushing just above the border that labelled the end of your outfit. Instead of say anything that compromised his mission, you settled back into your seat, sinking your head into the designed rest, and opened your legs a little, permitting him no resistance to do as he pleased; all because, you wanted the satisfaction and fulfilment of the adult acts too.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, squashing it beneath the carnivorous bone, as his hands danced elegantly around beneath the complimentary fabric. He toyed with you, by stroking his fingers over the thin material of your underwear, expertly putting pressure down upon your covered bud, confiscating a breathy whine out of your closed mouth. “You’re already wet.” A damn smirk coveted itself upon his healthy lips, your eyes flickering between the seductive sight, and that hidden beneath your clothes.

“Do something.” It wasn’t an order on your part; it was a sensual beg, in other terms, your sexual starvation put into words. The air from your lungs was practically ripped away as your partner delved his explorative fingers into the privacy of your garments, the pads of his delirium causing fingers heading straight towards your swollen and puffy clit.

With no hesitancy, you head rolled sideways to rest against the window, your breath frosting carelessly against the glass. Instead of caring about what was being viewed from the outside of the car, you focused on what could be seen from within the space of the front two seats. And so, you pushed up your skirt, giving the pair of you an explicit image of his hand roaming beneath the divider that kept your crotch from the barren air.

“Like this?” Sebastian taunted, sinking a finger into your sopping hole, causing your eyelashes to flutter at the sensation. A furrow worried his face however, even as he stayed still, not moving his digit, all due to the ringing of his phone. Using his free hand, he picked up the device, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

As he began to converse, he slowly paced his finger in and out of you, the thought of him finger fucking you whilst on the phone making you that much wetter. “No, me and y/n are going to be late, there’s traffic.” You assumed that he was speaking to his agent, and as you mewled, he left you empty, bringing his finger to his mouth to clean.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the road clears.” Seb sighed, after removing his slick coated digit from his mouth, pouring a little spit onto it, and bringing it down to rest on you clit. Shuffling, you leant back as far as the seat belt allowed you to have both of your feet to be perched on the end of the passenger side, knees tucked up your body willing to take whatever he would so much as give to you.

“Seb.” At the sound of his voice falling so erotically from his lips, a crease formed between his eyebrows, and so, as punishment for interfering with the static of his phone, he pinched your clit, and to cease the audible response, you bit into the palm of your hand, leaving indents of your teeth begins.

“I can’t make it go any faster.” You were not sure whether he was speaking to you or his agent. But it didn’t matter, not as he began to roll your clit between his fingers, paying the button ample attention, that had your head going all fuzzy and thoughtless.

“As much as I wish I could clear up this whole parade of stuck cars, I can’t.” He deliberately shook his head, purposely looking away from where he was playing with you to keep focused on the phone call, despite still rubbing tight circles around your bud. “She’s fine, in fact, she’s fallen asleep. Y/n will be all rested and content if we get there.”

Rested was a word that you were opting against, but if you were going to be privileged with being made content, then who were you to argue with him? So you remained silent, biting onto anything that could silence you, to keep yourself satisfied and ensuring that he would keep some truth behind his words. “See what you can do, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With little to no reluctance, he dropped his phone onto his lap, it meeting and causing some friction against his semi. But the awakening in his trousers was not his priority, instead it was the slick that was collecting so wholesomely on his fingers, acting as a natural lubrication to continue his round administrations.

“Sebby.” This time, instead of trying to silence you, the man marked you with a pleasant grin, only to apply more pressure behind his movements. It was a wicked deed, but you had no mind to it as it served no bother; instead, you were rather pleased that he was to be giving in on his pardoning.

“You going to cum for me darling?” His words were almost taunting, you could feel a flush of heat cascade up your neck and all around your body. And all from clitoral stimulation, this man certainly knew what he was doing. “Cum on my fingers baby, make them all nice and wet.”

Plunging your teeth once more into your bottom lip, you groaned, shutting your eyes and breathing steadily throughout your nostrils. And with that, you shattered underneath him, your shoulders twinging from the spasming aftershocks that riddled your body senseless.

“Would you look at that, the cars are slowly beginning move.” You needn’t have even needed to open your y/e/c eyes to know that there was an amused smirk contouring his features; that man sure could get cocky sometimes, and half of those happened to be in public.

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

my patient’s neighbour [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: whilst caring for a new patient of yours, you definitely didn't expect to fall for her cute neighbour, Wanda Maximoff

warning/s: very minor mentions of injuries and death

author's note: okay so firstly, buckle in, folks, this is gonna be like 6 parts long lol. Also, I google translated all the Russian bits so i apologise if they are incorrect! okay, you may enjoy now :)

"38... 38... 38..."

I scanned the doors to the many apartments in the hall, hoping to find the one that belonged to my newest patient – Anna Pivec. As a nurse, I was always given new patients to visit and tend to until they no longer needed it or chose not to have me around. I'd just been assigned a new patient, Anna, and was excited to meet her.

"38!" I said to myself, spotting the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked on before waiting patiently, hoping she wasn't sleeping or anything. It wasn't too early – 10AM – and she knew I was coming, so finger's crossed.

The door opened to reveal a short, old lady with grey hair and a cane in her hand. I smiled kindly, meeting her cloudy gaze.

"You must be the one my granddaughter is paying to look after me because she can't do it herself," the woman spoke before I could introduce myself. Stepping to the side, she motioned with her cane. "Come on in."

My smile dropped at her abruptness. "I, er, yeah, I guess that's me." As I walked in, I said, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N. The nurse from–"

"Yeah, I know where you're from," she cut me off, closing the door and heading further into her apartment. "They sent me a brochure, milaya."

I followed after her, surprised at how quick she was for an old lady with back and heart problems. She was leading me into the open plan living-room and kitchen.

"I'm sorry – milaya? What does that mean?" I asked politely, hoping I didn't come across as rude.

She waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something to herself in what I think was Russian. Her profile did say she was from Sokovia, so maybe that was it.

"Okay, erm, well, as I said," I changed the subject, figuring she wouldn't give me an answer, "I'm Y/N. I'll be here five times a week and basically be doing anything you need me to do. Of course, I only want you to be comfortable in your own home, so if you ever feel anything but, please let me know."

She hummed in acknowledgement before motioning for me to follow her. I set my bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the couch as she did so on the recliner. She sighed with content as the pain on her back was eased from taking a seat.

"Tell me about yourself," she said gently.

I smiled with amusement. "That's usually what I ask my patients."

"Do forgive me, milaya," she said, and I made a mental note to bring a Russian-English dictionary with me tomorrow, "but you're a stranger in my home. I'd prefer to know about you before I let you take care of me."

I nodded, slightly impressed. Her profile didn't do her justice. Usually, the elderly I cared for were quick to allow me to do my thing, never really questioning who I was or what my intentions were. I was starting to get the impression that Anna was a strong, stubborn woman in a little old lady's body – definitely not one to mess around with.

"Okay, well, I'm a nurse," I began with the basics, and from there, went into a long ramble about my job, how I got into it, what it consisted of...

Anna was full of questions, taking the time to get to know me and I her. Once I had told her everything I could think to, she told me about her life. How she lived in Sokovia up until she was thirty-five years old and had to flee with her husband and daughter because of the war. She gushed about the both of them, a twinkle in her eye as she recalled their livelihoods like they were still alive. Her husband had unfortunately passed many years ago due to liver problems – "All that drinking, milaya! Us Sokovians are a force to be reckoned with!" – and her daughter had passed in a car accident not long after.

It was a tragic tale, but she didn't let it bring her down. In fact, she seemed grateful to have lived it and I couldn't help but smile as she shared it with me.

I noticed she would speak short phrases in Russian mid-conversation, without realising, which didn't make it easier for me to understand, but I couldn't bring it in myself to interrupt her to ask what they meant because she said it with such sincerity that I figured it reminded her of her home.

After our conversation, I made her lunch and gave her her medication before watching some TV with her and pretty much talking to her once again. She was quite an interesting woman, different to my usual patients, and I was enjoying our time together. After spending the day there, I wished her a good night before leaving.

When I returned the next morning, I let myself in with the key Anna gave me and called out a good morning.

"In here!" an unfamiliar female voice called out.

I furrowed my brows as I took off my jacket and headed into the living-area. Anna was sat in her recliner as usual, but she had a guest sat on her couch. A young woman, possibly my age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile on her lips was sat comfortably; she had a cup of tea in her hands and her legs pulled up on the couch like she lived there.

The stranger and Anna exchanged words in Russian briefly before the former stood up, about to introduce herself.

"Oh, are you her granddaughter?" I asked, putting two and two together. It was the only explanation I could think of for how comfortable she was and the fact that she was also Sokovian (I assumed, anyway).

The girl laughed, her green eyes sparkling as she shook her head. Putting out her hand, she said, "I'm Wanda Maximoff. Anna's neighbour."

Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I smiled awkwardly and shook her hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I just thought because you were speaking Russian that–"

"It's fine, no harm no foul," she put me at ease quickly, before taking her seat again. "I've lived next door to Anna for about a year now. Sometimes I keep her company on my days off."

I set my bag on the floor before taking a seat on the couch, leaving a gap between Wanda and I.

"That's nice," I said with a smile before looking to Anna. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs Pivec?"

She sighed, waving her hand dismissively, before saying something to Wanda in Russian who was listening intently. Nodding her head, Wanda looked to me with amusement.

"What did she say?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"She said she told you to stop calling her Mrs Pivec yesterday," Wanda translated, trying not to laugh.

"Just call me Anna, Y/N," Anna added with a nod. "And I'm fine. Just had breakfast with Wanda here."

"Breakfast," I repeated slowly. "How long ago was that? Just gotta make sure you get your meds."

"Shoot, am I doing your job?" Wanda asked, slightly panicked.

"No, no, you're not." I laughed at the way she scrunched her nose. "I mean, it would help if I could have breakfast with Miss– Anna, so I know when she has her medication. But it's all good."

"Are you sure? I can leave if I'm in the way," Wanda said with a frown.

"No need," I reassured her. "If Anna doesn't mind your presence, it's all good. I'm just here to look after her, clean up, make sure she eats, has her meds."

Wanda looked to Anna, who seemed unbothered by her presence.

"She can stay," Anna said with a shrug. "Makes it feel less like I'm a pet."

I opened my mouth to say something, possibly make her feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't mind her," Wanda reassured, giving Anna a knowing look before shooting me an easygoing smile. "She tends to speak her mind exactly as it is. No filter whatsoever. And very stubborn. You may have noticed."

I cracked a smile, feeling better knowing that it wasn't just me who noticed Anna's unique personality traits.

"Hey, that stubbornness and lack of filter is exactly how I beat my husband and his friends in every poker game back home," Anna said with a playful smirk.

Wanda and I chuckled, before the brunette leaned on the couch comfortably and looked to me.

"We finished breakfast, maybe, ten minutes ago? I made us eggs and toast," she answered my question from earlier.

I hummed before getting up with my bag and heading to the kitchen. Setting my bag on the counter, I grabbed my diary and also Anna's medication from its place on the kitchen counter.

"I'll give you your medicine now, Anna," I told her, already grabbing a glass of water for her.

"Thank you, milaya," she called back, and I spun around, immediately going to get my Russian-English dictionary from my bag. "Wait, I know what that is!" I flicked through the pages and scanned it eagerly. "Milaya... milaya... milaya! Okay, it means... sweetie."

"Sweetie," Wanda said at the same time, and I looked up to see her watching me from behind her cup of tea, trying not to laugh again.

"I guess another perk of your presence is being the translator," I said sheepishly, realising just how eager I was a second ago. "Anna likes to speak Russian a lot, which I'm fine with of course, but..." I waved the dictionary in the air.

"It's funny watching tvoye lichiko, milaya," Anna said with that same mischievous smirk on her face.

I looked down to my dictionary, struggling to pinpoint a single word in her sentence that I could search. It was overwhelming, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"She said it's funny watching your little face, sweetie," Wanda translated upon seeing my frozen state.

I relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks." Then I realised what she said. "Hey!"

Anna laughed as Wanda grinned, and I was suddenly glad she was here. I grabbed Anna's meds with a glass of water before giving them to her. After making sure she swallowed them properly, I put the glass to the side and took a seat on the couch again.

"So, you said you visited Anna on your days off?" I asked Wanda, intrigued by why a neighbour would be so interested in another. It wasn't very common in today's day and age.

"She's almost always here," Anna answered before Wanda could speak. I looked to her as she continued with a grateful smile. "Helps me with everything. Groceries, cleaning, my medication."

"So basically me but unpaid," I joked, and Anna laughed.

"Exactly," she agreed, and I looked to Wanda to see her blushing, eyes avoiding mine.

"That's really sweet," I said gently, earning her attention. "You're a really good neighbour, Wanda."

Wanda ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing. If anything, I enjoy being here. Anna reminds me of Sokovia and my family and, well, home."

"Oh, so you're Sokovian, too?"

She nodded before smiling playfully. "Did the accent not give it away?"

I hid a smile. "I didn't want to assume. I mean, you could've been Czech. Slovakian. Basically anything else."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she gave in, tilting her head to the side, smile widening.

It was then that I learnt her smile was extremely contagious.

Same as yesterday, my plan was to stay the day with Anna, though this time Wanda also kept her company (and me, too). After lunch, I left the two of them to watch some TV as I excused myself to change Anna's bedsheets in her room, ready for bed tonight.

As I was doing so, I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Wanda entering the room. I gave her a smile before continuing to replace the pillowcase.

"Here, I can help," she offered, and didn't give me chance to decline as she grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and began to change its case.

"You sure? You know it's my job, right?" I teased, looking up at her over the bed between us.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm aware. Just thought I'd make it a bit easier for you."

I chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it... how is Anna?"

"Dozed off," Wanda quipped with an expectant nod. "Same time every day. Like clockwork."

"Huh." I thought back to yesterday and how she ended up taking a nap after lunch, too. "Noted. Thanks."

Wanda smiled before putting the pillowcase on the pillow and puffing it with her hands. I did the same, content with its appearance, before moving to the duvet. Wordlessly, Wanda grabbed one end and began to help me put it on, which I appreciated. The duvet was bigger than I was and definitely a two-person job.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke out of the blue as we were putting on the duvet cover.

"Go for it," she said encouragingly, glancing sideways.

"Of course, you don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask since I'm going to be looking after Anna for a while," I gave a little disclaimer, before saying, "She makes a lot of snide remarks about her granddaughter. Do they not get along?"

Wanda sighed quietly. "Her granddaughter doesn't really visit her here. She rarely calls."

"Her daughter's kid?"

"The only one," Wanda confirmed. "She keeps her distance, ever since her mum – Anna's daughter – passed. She just pays for, well, you."

I frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, breathing out.

The two of us spread the duvet over the double bed before I looked to her with a small smile.

"At least she has you," I pointed out. "It's nice you give up your free time to spend it with her."

"Like I said, it's good for me, too," she reminded me, returning the smile.

"So what do you do when you're not here keeping her company?" I asked curiously, moving to Anna's bedside to clear it up a little.

Wanda hid her smile behind a look of confusion. "Do you not– don't you recognise me?"

I quirked a brow, pausing my actions. "Am I supposed to?"

She snickered, shaking her head, eyes falling to the bed with mild disbelief. "I mean, I guess not. I'm–" She chuckled, looking to my confused face. "I'm one of the Avengers."

I studied her, her words not quite settling in. But when they did, I realised I actually recognised her and she was one of the Avengers.

"Oh my God!" I blurted, the penny finally dropping. "The one with the weird red energy powers! I mean– not weird but– the magic!"

She stifled laughter, nodding her head. Just like her smile, her laughter was contagious, too.

"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.

I made a weird motion with my free hand, like I'd seen her do on TV when saving the day. "Does Anna know about your y'know?"

Wanda crossed her arms, raising a brow and watching me with a humoured gaze. "Is that supposed to be my powers?"

I stopped making the motion and felt my neck heating up. "I– yeah."

Laughter spilled from her lips yet again, automatically making me smile. I didn't mind that I'd made a fool of myself all of a sudden.

"Anna knows, yes," Wanda said with a bright smile. "She actually recognised me straight away. Much quicker than you. And she's eighty."

Waving my hand to distract from my flushed cheeks, I said, "Pfft, she probably confused you with someone else and played along when you told her who you were."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it, ty milyy maneken," she retorted with her piercing gaze.

"No fair, my dictionary is in the other room," I said with a pout, and she only laughed even more.

"Guess you'll never know," she teased with a smirk, making me roll my eyes to distract from the way it made me feel when she stared at me like that.

It was much later on when I learnt that she had called me 'a cute dummy'. And that was the beautiful start to Wanda and I's introduction into each other's lives.

—

From then onwards, about eighty percent of the time I would go to care for Anna, Wanda was present, too and I didn't mind one bit. Not only did she keep Anna company, but she made my job a lot easier whilst keeping me company as well.

I was beginning to look forward to seeing her whenever I would open the door. Whether she was cleaning something up, playing board games with Anna or simply having a tidy up around the apartment, she'd always stop what she was doing and help me with whatever was in my hands as she greeted me at the door. It was adorable. She was adorable.

The few times she wasn't present because of work only made me miss her, the apartment feeling emptier than usual. Even Anna agreed, the two of us making up for the lack of the Sokovian girl's presence by distracting ourselves with other activities.

I was convinced Anna was warming up to me as she freely let me care for her without resistance. Obviously, she wouldn't be Anna if she didn't throw funny remarks my way or speak to me in Russian, knowing I didn't understand her, but it was tolerable. And I was liking her, too; she was easily becoming one of the best patients I cared for. There was just so much personality to her that I couldn't help but smile whenever I spoke to her.

One time, I was helping Anna out at her place when Wanda wasn't present. I was leading her into her bed when I decided now was a better time than ever to ask her about her birthday on Sunday, which I knew was then because of her file.

"So, I'll be seeing you in two days next," I told her as I pulled the duvet over her. "And a little birdie told me it's your birthday then. Eighty-one, Anna! That's amazing!"

She smiled but seemed embarrassed that I knew.

"Tell me what you want and I can make it happen," I said promisingly, smiling down at her.

She waved her hand. "I don't want anything, milaya (sweetie). Your presence is enough."

I chuckled. "As sweet as that is, I know everybody wants something for their birthday. Now please, Anna. What can I do to make the day a bit more special?"

She pondered my question momentarily and I waited for her to speak, hoping it was something doable.

"I would love to have a traditional Sokovian meal," she said reluctantly. "It's been a long time."

I breathed out quietly, patting her hand gently. "I can do that, Anna. Don't you worry."

She smiled genuinely, before shooing me away. "Okay, enough sappiness, ty mozhesh' uyti seychas (you can leave now)."

I laughed, standing up and dusting my pants off. I only knew what that phrase meant because she said it almost every time before my shift ended and I left for the day. I knew she didn't mean it as harshly as it sounded.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, already heading to the door. "I'll see you Sunday, birthday girl."

She groaned quietly, making me grin, before I double checked everything was okay in the living-area and grabbed my stuff to leave.

As easy of a request that it was, I knew absolutely nothing about cooking a traditional Sokovian meal. But I knew of one person who did and instantly headed to Wanda's apartment next door to see if she was home.

With a quick knock, I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she was even home since she hadn't visited Anna today and she usually did so if she was. When I was beginning to think she wasn't, I told myself I could Google a recipe and put something together, but then the door opened and revealed a tired-looking Wanda.

"Y/N," she said with surprise, but a friendly smile was on her lips nonetheless.

"Hey, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late, but I wanted to ask– wait, what happened to your face?" I stopped speaking and lost my own smile when I noticed the faint scratches and bruises dusting her skin.

"Oh, it's nothing–" she started, raising her hand, fingers wavering over her head, but I cut her off.

"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" I reached out, taking her hand in mine and studying the cast that was around her wrist. Concerned frown on my lips, I glanced up at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, Y/N," she tried to reassure, but I couldn't help it as my worry got the better of me and I studied the cuts on her cheek. "I just came back from a mission. Minor injuries. Honestly."

I let go of her hand, realising I was still holding it, and nodded slightly. "Right..." Realising she must have been exhausted, I awkwardly stepped back and shook my head with realisation. "Sorry, I should go. I didn't mean to bot–"

"You were saying something," she interrupted, nodding encouragingly. "You wanted to ask me something. What is it?"

I paused, nodding. Admittedly, I was still worried about the bruises on her forehead. I knew she was an Avenger and this was probably the norm for her, but to me, it looked like she'd just got mugged. And the irregularity of that worried me.

"Yeah, I was saying," I finally found my words, trying to ignore the way her tired eyes peered at me hopefully. "It's Anna's birthday on Sunday and she wants to have a traditional Sokovian meal to celebrate. The only problem is, I don't know what that is." Wanda cracked a smile as I continued. "Do you, maybe, have a recipe I could use?"

"Of course," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Come on in."

I followed after her, closing the door behind me, and stopped at the kitchen counter patiently. As she searched for a notebook in her drawer, I subtly glanced around, taking in the inside of Wanda's apartment. I'd never actually been in it before, but the minimal décor was very her. She didn't have many knickknacks and everything on display served a purpose.

"There's some recipes in here," she said, grabbing my attention. She slid the notebook across the counter and leaned forward with a smile. "Take your pick."

I flicked through it briefly, smiling at the notebook filled with recipes, all in Wanda's neat, cursive handwriting.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, looking up and catching her staring.

She perked up, clearing her throat as she nodded in response before looking the other way. Cute.

"Are you working on Sunday?" I asked with a raised brow, before rolling my eyes playfully. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. Not with that wrist."

She chuckled, still avoiding my eyes. "I'm not."

"Well, why don't you come over for her birthday? You can help me cook her a meal. Or rather, I can help you cook it since I'll probably screw it up."

Finally meeting my eyes, she smiled with amusement. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a knowing look, ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach as she held my gaze with her intense dark eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Anna will love to celebrate with you. And..." I pursed my lips, taking a leap of faith and adding, "and I'd love it, too."

Wanda let out a quiet laugh. "You would, would you?"

I straightened up, smile widening. "Yeah, I would."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. "Well then, I clearly can't say no."

Something stirred in my chest the longer she watched me and I oddly liked it. It was obvious that Wanda was a beautiful girl with a heart of gold, but I guess I hadn't really acknowledged that I may have had feelings for her until now. And I didn't mind one bit.

"Great," I finally found my words, nodding slightly. "I'll see you Sunday."

She mirrored my expression, saying, "See you Sunday," and I knew I couldn't wait until then.

#wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #elizabeth olsen imagine

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jovialcloudqueenisnotonfire · 2 years

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i’ve always stood by this to-do list method, which i will recommend to you now. instead of just “to,” there are three sections: must, should, and can.

Must: max. 3 items

things you absolutely have to do today. assignment due tomorrow, what you need to do to stay on track for your project, call the bank about them freezing your account, etc.

Should: max. 4 times

things you can put off if need be, but should do today. email that person, an assignment with a close but not dire deadline, etc.

Can: as many as you want, but don’t overwhelm yourself, so generally 3-4

simple, things you can do today. you’ll be tempted to put things from here in should instead; don’t do that. prioritize 3 things, everything else is something you can do today, if you feel up for it or want to.

i’ve found this works really well, and helps me feel more in control of my priorities and also less pressured to do absolutely everything on my list. i actually think i get more done when i can do some stuff if I chose to do so, versus feeling like i have to because its on my to-do list. reverse psychology!

#hope this helps!#productivity #adhd #adhd tips #living with adhd #add #adhd help #adhd student #studyblr #adhd studyblr #that's a thing?!

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down-diabolical · 3 years

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Abigail Thorn Trans Pride London Speech Transcription

Hey y'all,

So recently I had an assignment for my English course that required me to rhetorically analyze a text of my choosing in an essay, and I chose Abigail Thorn's speech from Trans Pride 2021.

Since I could only find a video of it (here's the link if you haven't seen it yet, it's amazing btw) and I was tired of scrubbing through and re-listening to get pieces of textual evidence for my paper, I transcribed the speech myself for personal use. I couldn't find any other transcription which is why I resorted to transcribing myself in the first place, and because this is the case I thought "hey, other people might be looking for a transcription of this amazing speech" and I decided to post my transcription here for any and all to read!

Because I was transcribing off of a live video of the event, there are a few words here and there that are cut out simply because I couldn't hear and/or make out what Abigail was saying due to the noise of the crowd. Other than that, I'd say I did a pretty good job!

Parentheses with italics mark noises from the crowd and any pauses that I feel effectively contribute to the effect of Abigail's speech. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to let me know!

The full transcription is under the cut:

Abigail Thorn Speech at Trans Pride London (Transcription)

[Brothers, sisters] and my nonbinary comrades! (crowd cheers) I am honored to speak at what is, in fact my very first pride. (crowd cheers) The organizers flatter me by assuming that I can tell you anything that you don’t already know, many of you are a lot wiser and more experienced than me. You have to excuse me if I speak plainly and to the purpose. I’m not an activist or a great leader or a great speaker, I’m just an actress, and the truth is that I’m scared to speak up at something like this because I don’t know if I’m going to have an acting career tomorrow if I tell the truth about what it is like to be trans in this country! (crowd cheers) ‘Cause the truth is—and you don’t need me to tell you—it’s pretty hard, and that’s not ‘cause of “toxic debates,” it’s not ‘cause of social media, and it’s sure as fuck isn’t because of “cancel culture!” It’s because, legally and politically, we are not allowed to control our own lives! (crowd cheers)

There is a word about how that makes me feel. The word is humiliated. When my doctor refuses to treat me and makes me use a segregated healthcare system, I am humiliated. When I am forced to beg and scrape for permission to get married from the government’s Gender Recognition Panel, I am humiliated! When I am thrown to the concrete by an officer of the Metropolitan Police for daring to protest the government that inflicts these indignities—and that officer was wearing a rainbow pride badge (crowd boos and jeers)— I am humiliated! It is the feeling that control over your life has been taken away from you, and you do not need me to tell you, we are not the only people in this country that feel that way. (Abby pauses, crowd cheers)

But…but there is something else, isn’t there? There is something else that has brought all of us here today. Despite the difficulties that cis people inflict on us, I don’t think that being trans is a burden. I don’t think that being trans is a curse. I think it is a gift. (Abby pauses, crowd cheers). There is POWER in this! To take control of your life, to reach down into your own cells and take possession of them, to name yourself! To take your destiny by the scruff of the neck and say “no, god damn it! […] This is my life and I will be the mistress of it!”

I remember the first day when I realized who and what I am. I remember that feeling like the clouds had parted and the hand of God had come down, a feeling that no doubt many of you have shared. Since that day I have felt electricity in my blood! (crowd cheers) […] POWER in my heart! I have felt the passion, a passion that outburns the sun! It is the desire to live! It is the desire to take control! I look at these faces now and I don’t see humiliated victims or timid creatures. I see lions, I see tigers, I see the real kings and queens of this country! I see the hope in a hopeless country! I see the harbingers of a new world that struggles to be born and is proud to come out fighting!

The Women and Equalities minister, Liz Truss (Abby pauses, crowd jeers), she says that she wants trans people to live in dignity. (Abby pauses, crowd chants “Fuck that bitch!”) Babes, I got dignity coming out of my ass. (crowd cheers) I don’t want pity, I don’t want condescension or charity, I don’t even want “visibility and representation.” I want control over my own goddamn life! (crowd cheers) That is an ambition that is worth being PROUD of! That is why we say TRANS POWER! (“Trans power!”) TRANS POWER! (“Trans power!”) TRANS POWER! (“Trans power!”) (crowd cheers)

[End of Speech]

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lazarettta · 3 years

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The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere

#ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair richards x reader #ahs cult #ahs x reader #sarah paulson #ahs imagine #american horror story #sarah paulson x reader

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vemuabhi · 3 years

Text

ITS OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK

Stressed Reader Comfort!

Hello!!! I am so happy you requested my dear! I am so happy to write for you. Please drink water and take care of yourself. I know it’s a hard time. But don’t lose hope and don’t let stress eat you up. You are loved and you are needed.

Pairing : Sanji X Reader

Word count : 2.2K

Warnings : Not proof read, Stress, insomnia, Hurt then comfort and a very adorable Sanji

Sanji post Tagging : @ye-rin164

Assignment after assignment. Projects, seminars and exams. Forget about dates, you are not even having time to sleep properly since the last month. Still you stayed up many nights writing all the assignments. Researching stuff needed for the seminars. Memorising all the chapters from all the subjects. Praying to get good credits every time. Even sleeping for those 3 hours a day seemed so stressful because of your piled up assignments, which your teachers just dumped on you mercilessly.

Slowly because of lack of sleep and hectic works, dark circles were visible clearly under your eyes. Headaches became regular now. You weren’t able to focus on things properly. You just… tried to go along with the flow of day. Anything you ate tasted bland making you to loose appetite. All you now wanted was a day to just… rest.

Ignoring the good morning and good night messages from a certain someone made you feel guilty. But because of work, you couldn’t even catch a break. Yes… stress was building up in you.

Researching and taking print outs for the next “group” seminar made you work even harder. Yeah as you know how there is at least one person in the group who doesn’t even attempt to do work. Now you had FREAKING two of them in your 5 member’s team. Guess what happened. You three had to now share the burden of the remaining work.

‘Good thing Sanji isn’t here to see how much of a mess I am right now’, you thought sipping your caffeine. You felt lucky that you were at least getting time to take a quick shower every day.

On the other hand, Sanji knew. He knew how terrible your work was getting, making you to give him a single reply every two days, letting him know you were alive. If you didn’t give him that reply, he’d have gotten a panic attack on how you were. No regular messages, no dates, no video calls, not a single god damn normal call. He was really getting worried. But he stayed patient.

Nami and Robin chan suggested him to go and meet you, but he thought if he went, he’d be a problem to you for not letting you finish your work. His heart was earning to see you. To hug you. To make you something to eat. To just… be with you.

As days passed, you were getting more and more annoyed and you started to have breakouts for almost everything and nothing. Even the smallest things were making you cry. Like once You even cried as you saw a small puppy outside your apartment.

You hated to cry. But because of this pressure you couldn’t even control your emotions. You felt like you were losing yourself.

At Sanji’s house, he and Zoro were doing dishes but Sanji couldn’t help but to worry about you.

“Its just a gut feeling but I cant help but to worry”, Sanji sighed.

“If you feel like shit, why not just go to her place?”, asked Zoro

“Tsk, Its not that easy. What if I interrupt her?”, replied Sanji washing his hands after giving the last plate to Zoro.

The green haired man took the plate and placed it into the shelf. He sighed and said, “Look cook. It’s okay to go and check on her once a while, If you are worried. Maybe she needs you too”

Sanji never thought of that. He was always insecure and felt that he might disturb you if he met you. But this gut feeling of his was telling him to atleast go and see you.

“In 5 minutes, I’m leaving”, the blond told his roommate before going into his room. Zoro just smirked before closing the shef door.

You sat in the corner of the room. Your books were still open and you knew you were supposed to study. Then… the negative thoughts hit you. Your brain wanted to play some tricks on you. And it chose this freaking time to do that.

‘Yeah… you are not gonna get good grades even if you do this’

‘Sanji is so hardworking. He’d be so disappointed to have a person like you as his lover’

‘All your assignments are worthless, stop giving yourself enough credit’, you looked into your mirror.

Tears slid down your face. You looked terrible. With messy hair, unwashed clothes, dirty room. You wanted to tear the place down. You were so hurt and pressured.

*Ring*

Your train of thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You wiped your tears quickly and stumbled as you made your way towards the main door. You swung open the door and your (eye colour) orbs met the all blue orbs. The golden hair smoothly covered one of his eye. His smile brightly as seeing you.

“Aish! Y/N, how many time have I told you to check before opening the do-”, He didn’t even complete his sentence and you ran into his arms, tightly embracing him, making him to take a step back.

He instantly knew something was wrong with the way to you hugged him. He wrapped his arms around your body. You started to cry as he hugged you.

“Sanji… I… I can’t… I hate this. I don’t like this”, you whimpered between your sobs. He soothingly rubbed the back of your head.

Without breaking the hug, he pulled you inside the house and locked the door. Leaning his back on the door, with still you hugging him, he pulled you even closer. He patted your back while you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N, look at me dear”, he asked and you slowly looked at him. His expression from worry turned to one of a sad one.

“I missed you so much”, you cried even more looking at him.

“Shhh~~ Y/N, I’m here. Please don’t cry. This hardship will pass away. Don’t let the stress eat you up”, he kissed your forehead as he calmly whispered into your ear.

Actually Sanji was also so hurt because of your situation. But if he wasn’t strong, who would encourage you.

Soothing your tears away, he kissed your eyes.

“I am sorry. I look horrible”, you sniffed and damn yes, he was not happy by the way you said it.

“Don’t ever say that. You are the most amazing and hardworking person. Give yourself a bit more credit”, he shook your shoulders as he said that.

“Listen here, you are tired, but you are still very much beautiful. All you need is a good night sleep”, he said as he pulled you towards your bedroom.

The bed was a mess. Books, papers, laptop, stationary on it. You felt embarrassed as Sanji saw you in your worst state.

“Sorry Sanji for making you see this”, you said as Sanji just made his way into the room and started to quickly clean the bed.

“You are apologising way too much Y/N. If I didn’t support you now, I shouldn’t even call myself your friend let alone your boyfriend”, he said.

Within minutes, he cleared everything up. You went towards the table to continue your work, but then, you felt your wrist being grabbed.

You looked at him and he looked at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, I never said you should now write your paper”, he said sternly. Even though his voice was deep, his eyes showed worry.

“But I should complete it”, you said but he was quick to pull you towards him. He lifted you up with grace and walked towards the bed swiftly and plopped you on it. You couldn’t even protest because of how quickly it happened.

You tried to get up but then he decided to jump on you and cuddle you. You chuckled at how he behaved like a small child. When he heard your laugh he looked up to you, his head still placed on your chest. Oh how much he wanted to hear that laugh of yours. But you yourself didn’t knew when you fell asleep. As Sanji was looking while you laughed, you almost immediately fell asleep.

He smiled at you as you slept. He woke up and went towards your desk and sat on the chair.

Looking at the assignment that you should start, he analysed what you wrote in the roughly at the side. He took your phone and placed his thumb on the finger print scanner. Yes of course, you guys are having the healthiest relationship. He went towards the pdf of the assignment due dates and found the assignment you were working on. And damn he got angry at how many assignments you were given. The one you were working on was to be submitted the day after tomorrow.

‘Damn… no wonder Y/N had to stay up most of the night for these’, he thought as he called one of the smartest people he knew. No… it wasn’t Luffy. He has the devils Luck to pass his exams.

“Hey Robin chan! This is Sanji”, he said as he looked at the assignment.

“Hi Sanji. What happened?”, she inquired

“Robin chan, I actually need some help”, he started to ask about the assignment and how to collect the required information related to it.

Robin chan understood the situation and started to explain.

“So Sanji, Don’t waste your time searching all the websites. Just go to the websites I told you and you can see almost every possible explanation required to you”

Sanji searched on the laptop as he placed the phone between his shoulder and ear. The un-lit cigarette was dangling between his lips. The habbit of having it made him focus on things even more. But he ofcourse didn’t want to light it and make you wake up from its smell. And for gods sake, it was your divine room. He would never light a cigarette here. Soon he could see the information required to your assignment.

“Oh yes! I got it Robin chan! Thanks for your help”, he thanked her and they both ended the call after the exchanging a few more casual talks.

He looked at some other sites Robin mentioned and found everything that you required for writing this assignment. He actually wanted to write for you but, he knows that you’d feel guilty if he wrote it. So he just searched it for you. Then looked at another assignment which was the next one you had to submit in 5 days from now. So, he started to search for it and found the required information. He looked at the time and noticed that, it was already 2 in the morning. He didn’t even knew how the time passed while he searched for the information.

Sanji stretched his arms and stood up. He walked towards the bad, where you were sleeping peacefully. He smiled at you before kissing your forehead. He hugged you as he slept beside you.

The next day you woke up to the aroma of the food. You woke up from the best sleep you had. It was so refreshing and you felt so much better with it. You got up from the bed and went to the kitchen, where you saw the blond cooking for you.

You hugged him from behind as he grinned at your cute behaviour. “Good morning love”, he greeted you as he placed one of his arm around your shoulder and snuggled closer to you.

“Thanks for making this baby. I am so thankful for this”, you said pecking his cheek. He smiled and continued to make the breakfast.

“Its alright. Well, Y/N, you need to eat before you start writing the assignment. You smiled looking at him. ‘I am sure lucky’, you thought. You ate breakfast and then Sanji showed you the information he collected to write the assignment. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall in love with him more, he proved you wrong.

He was beside you leaning down with the laptop before you two as he was talking about some websites Robin chan mentioned. You placed your hand on his chin and turned him towards you then pulled him in for a kiss.

“I think, I found the best boyfriend one could have. I’m so lucky”, you said as you hugged him

He blushed so hard when you said that.

“AHHH!! AND YOU ARE THE BEST GIRLFRIEND Y/N, I LOVE YOU TOO”

That day you both wrote the assignments together and finished them.

“Its okay to ask for help Y/N, I am always happy to help you”, Sanji said as he held the finished papers of the assignment.

You smiled back at him and said, “Thankyou Sanji. I… I’ll ask your help”

XOXOXOXO

So, I hope you liked this one shot. I felt so connected writing this. If you are facing a similar situation. Just remember. You need rest and you can always ask for help. Please give yourself credit and stay positive.

Like/Vote, Comment, Reblog/Share if you liked it!

Follow for more content!!

#sanji x reader #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmokes #Zoro One Piece #robin one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece fanfiction

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quiet-onset · 3 years

Text

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact.

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant.

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside.

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume.

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up.

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew.

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

—

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.”

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.”

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay.

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go.

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you.

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment.

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America.

And Captain America he was.

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed.

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you.

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh.

“Took you long enough.”

#sam wilson x reader #cap!sam wilson x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson x black!reader #cap!sam wilson x black!reader #marvel x black!reader #sam wilson fanfiction #cap!sam wilson fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader

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kojinnie · 3 years

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AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good)

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

#aot #snk #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot modern au #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith #modern headcanon #lawyer erwin smith #professor hange zoe #accountant levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojin writes

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jaehyunhour · 4 years

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sacred heart | mark lee

genre + idol → slow burn, angst, smut, college au, college!mark (x fem!reader), ft. slight johnny x reader

word count → 5.1k

warnings → mentions of sex, explicit language, alcohol consumption, college party, blasphemy, oral (m/receiving), unprotected sex (always wear a condom pls guys), sex in a church.

summary → mark lee is warm ocean water and you are unrelenting cold air — together you are a hurricane.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing inside Sacred Heart this late on a Friday night?”

“Father Fitz hid a spare key in the birdhouse outside for me in case I ever felt like being with Christ.”

“You’re so holy, Mark.”

a/n → i’m trying a new style/format for my fics hehe, normally my fics are written in all lower case but this one is actually capitalized properly so~~ let me know if it makes any difference. also this fic is purely an act of self-indulgence because i go to a jesuit institution and think a lot about going to my college campus’s church with mark.

Mark lets out a frustrated sigh as he pulls his keys out from his pocket. It’s been a long day — he had a sociology midterm in the morning, left his meal card in his room so he couldn’t get cafeteria lunch, and broke a glass beaker in his Chemistry lab. All he wants to do is get back into his room, have a bowl of instant ramen, get into bed and sleep early. But as soon as the door swings open and he looks inside, he’s met with your beautiful yoga short clad ass laying in Johnny’s bed. His dick twitches in his pants at the sight and he lets out a sigh. You turn over to lay on your back, making eye contact with Mark as he stands stunned at the door.

To many, Mark Lee is just your typical Christ-loving Chemistry major Mama’s Boy. He has no real enemies, treating everyone as his equal and giving them the respect they deserve. He chose to attend a Jesuit institution despite his Christian upbringing because he wanted to “see another side of our Savior.” He is so painfully average to most, but to you he is everything. He is the most passionate, intelligent, and hard-working person you have ever met. His love for Christ shines in all of his relationships, he is kind and caring and thoughtful. He makes your heart skip a beat and your pussy clench.

You give Mark a smile as he takes in your entire figure — your cheeks are flushed pink, hickies littering your neck and your hair is a mess. You still haven’t come down from your post-sex high and Mark can tell.

“Mark! You’re here!” You say excitedly, jumping up off the bed to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t reciprocate, his hands staying still at his sides as you pull back, pushing his hair out of his face and fixing his glasses for him.

“You didn’t come to lab today,” Mark mumbles, pushing you off him as he heads over to his desk. The bedroom door slams behind him, making you jump, as you watch Mark grumpily dump his things out on his desk before slipping into bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was going to come I swear, but I came over to get something from Johnny and then… I forgot,” you pause for a moment. “Do you have the lab?”

“Yeah, it’s in my notebook, I can send you pictures tomorrow. Where’s Johnny?”

“He went to go get food. I saw you left your meal card and I didn’t want you to eat ramen for dinner, so I had him go get fried chicken for us.” you sit on the edge of Mark’s bed, your hand reaching out to play with his hair. He relaxes into your touch and lets out a content sigh. Mark knows this is so wrong — you’re sleeping with his roommate, he’s heard you guys before, but he can’t help the overwhelming warmth that overtakes his body when you act like this with him. You care so much for him, and Mark wishes you would just get over Johnny and be with him.

“Bad day, baby?” you ask. Mark nods with a slight pout on his lips. His eyes are shut closed, unwilling to open them and stare at the love bites all over your neck and chest left by Johnny. He would rather live in blissful ignorance than face reality. You lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and just as you pull back, Johnny walks through the door holding your food.

“Honey, I’m hooooome,” Johnny says in a sing-song voice. You shoot up and out of Mark’s bed quickly, running over to Johnny and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sets the food down on the table in the middle of the room, placing his hands on the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and let out a giggle as he kisses you.

“Did you miss me?” Johnny asks, squeezing your thighs. You nod in response. “I bet you did, you dirty little wh—“

“— Can we just eat?”

During dinner, Johnny asks you to spend the night and Mark knows he isn’t going to be getting the rest that he deserves after the shit storm of a day he had. Every time you spend the night, you and Johnny talk late into the night, kissing and touching underneath the covers. It wouldn’t bother Mark if he could at least see you — see the look on your face as you cum undone on Johnny’s fingers, your teeth biting down on your fingers to try and keep the noise in — but he has to pretend he doesn’t know what’s happening. And tonight is no different. Mark stares at the wall of his room, back turned towards you and Johnny, and he listens as Johnny eats you out at 4 in the morning. He can hear the sloppy wet noises as Johnny’s fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, the sound of the bed shaking slightly as your entire body convulses when you cum, and the whimpers muffled by your fingers as you reach your high. Both his dick and his heart hurt as it all goes down, and Mark wonders if he’ll ever be the reason for your early morning muffled whines.

The following week, you get to lab before Mark does. You bought him his favorite sandwich from the cafeteria as an apology for not showing up to lab the week before, and did the pre-lab assignments for this lab and the next to take some weight off his shoulders. When Mark walks into lab just barely on time, and sees you sitting patiently at your assigned table, he can’t help the smile that forms on his face. Your heart begins beating faster at how happy Mark is to see you, and the butterflies in your stomach are flying rapidly. Mark wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans as he walks over to you, and you do the same underneath the table. He takes a seat, and before he can even get a word in, you’re already talking.

“I brought you your favorite sandwich,” you say, handing him the neatly wrapped sandwich. “And I already did the pre-lab today and for next week, so you don’t have to worry about it. I’m sorry again about last week!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark says, shrugging his backpack off and placing it on the floor next to him. He unwraps the sandwich, quickly taking a big bite and letting out a satisfied groan at the first bite. “God, how did you know this is what I get?”

“Well, I actually didn’t know. I went to go get a sandwich for lunch today, and I was talking to Julio, the deli guy, and you know how I overshare… I told him you were upset at me for missing lab, and he handed me this sandwich and said ‘para tu amante’ and then I left.”

“What’s amante mean?”

“Lover,” you explain. Mark chokes on the sandwich and your eyes widen, as your hand instinctively moves to pat his back.

“Did you correct him?”

You shake your head no and Mark raises an eyebrow at you, continuing to eat the sandwich as you wait for your instructor to arrive and begin class. “Why would I?”

“Well, I just figured, you and Johnny—“

“— Johnny isn’t my boyfriend, he’s just a pretty boy to mess around with. Plus, you’re really the only one who knows that I’m involved with him.”

“I’m not your boyfriend, either,” Mark mumbles.

“But you’re more to me than Johnny is.”

Before Mark can respond, or even process what you’ve said, your professor walks through the lab doors and begins instructing you guys on your lab. Mark can’t focus very hard on the tasks in front of him, your words loud in his mind, so he lets you take the lead on the assignment. It’s the least you could do for abandoning him the week before.

The following week, Mark walks into his room after another long day half-expecting to see your yoga clad ass laying in Johnny’s bed yet again, but this time — your beautiful ass is laying in his bed. You’re half asleep already, trying so hard to stay awake as you wait for Mark to get home. You hold one of his plushies in your arms, snuggling close to it and Mark’s body relaxes at the sight.

“Where’s Johnny?” Mark asks, puncturing the comfortable silence. You jump awake at his words and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and running your fingers through your hair.

“He had to go pull an all-nighter at the library for his Comp Sci midterm project, he left like 3 hours ago.” You explain. Mark knows that Johnny’s Comp Sci midterm project isn’t due for another two weeks, and he hates that Johnny lied to you just so he could go stick his dick in someone else after already having you. But Mark doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’s lying, he’s afraid he’ll never see you in his bed again if you stop seeing Johnny, so he plays along.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because this is quite the view,” Mark begins, motioning to your half-naked body in his bed. “But why are you still here?”

“I wanted to see you,” you mumble, sinking back into his bed. You shift onto your side, and Mark slips into his bed, laying on his side to face you. Mark locks eyes with you, lips parted slightly and tongue poking out of his mouth to lick his lips.

You reach a hand out to play with his hair, an action all too familiar for Mark but his heart still races as if it was the first time. “How was your day, baby?”

Mark sighs at the pet name. “It was okay, I s’pose. It just felt so long, I couldn’t wait to get home and sleep.”

“Sorry, I should’ve just gone home when Johnny left, you would be asleep right now, but I missed your face.”

“That’s okay, I’m not complaining,” Mark responds. You twirl the ends of Mark’s hair between your fingers, tugging slightly to see if he’ll react but he doesn’t. He’s too busy memorizing every feature of your face, his eyes traveling from the part of your hair down to your neck and taking a mental photograph of what your neck looks like without Johnny’s markings all over it. You are so beautiful to him. “Hey, Y/N?” Mark asks, shattering the silence between you two. Your fingers stop moving as your eyes shift from the ends of his hair back to his face, locking eyes with him again.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

“Have you ever thought about ending things with Johnny?”

“I have.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I think about falling in love and I know I don’t want to be in love with him.”

“And have you ever… nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“No, no, it’s not stupid. Ask me,” you say.

“Have you ever… thought about me, like that?” Mark mumbles shyly, flopping down onto his back to avoid your gaze, but he can feel your eyes staring at him still.

“I’ve thought about you in a lot of different ways,” you admit. “Some are nice, and others, well…”

“Well?”

“Let’s just say, Father Fitz is getting real tired of hearing my voice at Sunday confession.”

“Oh,” Mark says quietly, his dick stirring at his pants at the thought of you thinking such unholy things about him that you feel the need to confess at Sunday confession. He knows you aren’t particularly religious, only choosing a Jesuit college because of the scholarship money, so it must be really dirty if you really do attend confession just to talk about him.

“Mark?” You ask. Mark shifts his body onto his side again, locking eyes with you for the final time that night. His eyes are wide and glossy, a direct mirror image of yours. “Can I kiss you?”

Before Mark can process the question, he’s nodding his head yes. The hand that was previously playing with Mark’s hair now rests on his cheek, and you lean down and capture his lips in yours. His lips taste like cherry chapstick and you smile into the kiss. Your hand leaves his cheek, trailing down to his stomach, slipping underneath his shirt as your fingernails scratch at his abs. He lets out a gasp and your tongue slips into his mouth, kissing him with more passion and fervor. Mark has never kissed anyone like this before and he’s a bit unsure of what to do, but his tongue meets yours and he follows your lead. Your hand trails down to the waistband of his underwear, but his hand shoots out quickly to stop you.

You pull away, concerned etched on your face, but before you can ask if he’s okay, he’s already speaking. “We shouldn’t,” Mark says. “Johnny might come back and see.”

“Right,” you say, nodding. You lay on your back on his bed, staring at the glow in the dark stars Mark has on his ceiling. “Did you stick those yourselves or did it come with the room when you moved in?”

“I put them myself, I really like stargazing but have never had anyone to go with, so I do this until I find someone special enough to go stargazing with.”

“Am I special to you, Mark?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go stargazing with you one day,” you say, cuddling into Mark’s side and closing your eyes. You yawn, and within minutes you’re knocked out. Mark waits to hear your quiet snores to know you’re fully asleep, before picking you up and putting you to sleep in Johnny’s bed. He knows Johnny won’t come home tonight, but just in case he does, he doesn’t want to have to explain why you were asleep in his bed, cuddling him.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Mark says, tucking you into Johnny’s bed and pressing a kiss to your forehead, then jumping back into his bed and willing the tent in his pants to go away so he can sleep peacefully.

When Mark says you drive him fucking crazy, he means it. He’s so infatuated with you, it drives him up the wall. He can’t stand the way you and Johnny walk all over him — you guys act like a couple around him, he hears you fool around, but as soon as Johnny has gotten his nut in you’re in Mark’s bed, cuddling him and kissing him. He feels like he’s getting Johnny’s sloppy seconds, he’s playing the part of boyfriend that Johnny refuses to play.

But it’s such a comfortable role for him. He loves the way you kiss him when Johnny isn’t around. He loves the way you baby him outside of this tiny dorm room, the way you take care of him in lab and make sure he’s eating and getting the rest he needs to function. He loves the way people think you’re dating and the way you don’t correct them. He loves when you sneak out of Johnny’s bed once he knocks out, just to come tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight. He’s a masochist: he loves the pain and pleasure that comes with being in love with you.

Mark knows this isn’t sustainable. He knows this isn’t healthy but he doesn’t reach his breaking point until he decides to attend the end of semester Tri Delta party. After months of being in this game with you, the semester is finally over and he will have a month long break from you before you guys are ultimately stuck with each other again next semester in yet another chemistry lab. Mark isn’t one to party, preferring to stay indoors and binge watch whatever show he’s been trying to finish, but he hopes that he will run into you there, that you will finally kiss him in public and he will be more than just your dirty little secret. More than just his roommate’s casual fuck, his midnight kisser, his lab partner.

He walks into the sorority house and is immediately uncomfortable. The music is loud, lights are flashing, and he just wants to go back home and get into bed. But he refuses to leave until he sees you, has a few drinks at the very least, and kisses you once for someone to see. He doesn’t care if it’s Johnny, or if it’s one of the sorority girls, he just wants someone to see you and Mark together. In public. He’s spotted by one of your friends and she runs over to him and pulls him into a hug. He recognizes her from his Ethics lecture, and from the polaroid photo you have of her in your phone case.

“Mark! What are you doing here?” She asks, loud voice competing with the loud music in the house.

“I’m just trying to have a little fun, I s’pose,” Mark responds.

“You look like a fish out of water! Do you want a drink or anything?”

“I’ll probably have one later… Have you seen Y/N?”

“She’s here somewhere! Hey, what’s up with you two? Are you guys together or what?”

“Uh,” Mark pauses for a second, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Something like that.”

“She’s always got these huge hickies all over her neck. You’re a dog, Mark! Have some fun tonight,” she pulls him into another quick hug and walks away.

Mark sighs, wiping the sweat from his forehead before traveling deeper into the party. He scans the living room carefully, looking for your small frame, but he doesn’t see you anywhere in there. He sees many different couples, kissing and touching and grinding in the middle of the living room to the beat of the song. He’s glad you’re not in there, with someone random, but he just prays that you aren’t upstairs inside someone’s room getting stuffed by someone who isn’t him. It should be him.

And his prayers are answered. He walks into the kitchen and sees you. You aren’t out in the living room dancing with someone random, you aren’t upstairs inside someone’s room getting stuffed by someone else. You’re sitting up on the kitchen counter, drink in hand, as Johnny stands between your legs with one of his arms wrapped around you. Johnny pulls you close to him, and you smile as your other arm wraps around his neck. There’s an uncomfortable tightness that builds in Mark’s chest as he sees you there with him. You’re not one for public affection, to tell people who you spend time with behind closed doors, and Mark can already feel the rumors of you and Johnny beginning to circulate.

You feel someone staring at you, and tear your gaze away from Johnny to the entrance to the kitchen. You see Mark standing there, in his tight jeans and a black button up, and your heart swells at the sight. He’s wearing contacts, a sight all too familiar for you, and his hair is styled back and you can see his forehead. He looks absolutely incredible. Without thinking, you push Johnny off of you and you smile brightly as you make your way over to Mark. Mark doesn’t return your smile, instead he turns around and walks straight out of the party. You stand stunned in the middle of the kitchen, smile dropping from your face. Johnny comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing his lips to your ears.

“Let’s go upstairs, honey,” Johnny asks, rutting his hips against your ass. Your heart hurts and you just want to see Mark.

“I-I’m gonna go, sorry Johnny, I’ll see you later. Maybe,” you say quietly, barely audible over the music. You shrug Johnny off your body, downing the rest of your drink and walking towards campus in search of Mark. The air is cold, it’s nearly midnight and the fog is settling low as you walk in no particular direction. You walk past all of the lecture halls, past the science building, wondering where Mark could be until you see the church in the distance.

You walk into the church using the side door and are met with Mark sitting in one of the pews in the middle of the church. You shrug your jacket off, placing it on the coatrack near the door and walk towards him slowly, your footsteps echoing in the empty church.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing inside Sacred Heart this late on a Friday night?’ you ask.

“Leave me alone,” Mark responds.

“I asked you a question, baby.”

“Father Fitz hid a spare key in the birdhouse outside for me in case I ever felt like being with Christ.”

“You’re so holy, Mark.”

You stand in front of him in the pew, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slither into his lap. Mark’s arms instinctively wrap around your waist and he sighs, looking at your face. The moonlight shines through the stained glass windows, illuminating Mark’s face. His cheekbones sit high on his face, sitting prettily and one of your hands reaches for his face to trace all of his features. By now, Mark has taken his contacts out and is wearing his glasses again.

“Why do you have to hurt me?” Mark asks quietly.

Your breath gets caught in your chest at Mark’s sudden forwardness. He’s never been so forward or open with you about anything before and it leaves you shocked. Deep down, you knew what you were doing with Mark wasn’t right, but you didn’t think you were actually hurting him. Tears brim in your eyes as you think about a response, you knew you weren’t in any position to be crying, Mark is the one who’s being hurt. One of his hands wipes the tears from your eyes before returning back to your waist.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why can’t you just end things with Johnny? Do you know how much it fucking sucks to feel like I’m getting his sloppy seconds?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You slink into Mark’s body, resting your head in the crook of his neck and willing the tears to go away. “I shouldn’t be crying, Mark, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve any of this, I’ll end things with Johnny. I promise.”

“Stop crying,” Mark says, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. “Don’t cry, c’mon, baby.”

You pull back, sniffling slightly while wiping the tears from your eyes and letting out a giggle. You hold Mark’s cheeks in your hands before leaning in and pecking him on the lips.

“What was that for?”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me baby. I like it,” you respond.

“Did Johnny ever ca—“

“— Never. I never let him.”

“Y/N, I really think I’m in love with you.”

“I know.”

“Do you lo—“

“— Yes. You’re special to me, Mark. You know that.”

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, and in an instant his lips are on yours. He kisses you as if he’s been wanting to kiss you for his entire life, even though he had kissed you just two days ago in his bed. But this time it’s different, Johnny isn’t in the bed next to you. He knows he won’t hear you cum around Johnny’s fingers tonight, because you’ll be cumming around his. Tonight, you are his, and he’s going to treasure this moment.

Mark slips his tongue into your mouth, yours coming out to play with and tease his. Your hips grind down against his, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging slightly. He lets out a groan and tightly grips your hips, pulling you closer and pushing you down harder. A whine slips past your lips, muffled by his, and you can feel the wetness pooling in your underwear.

It isn’t until Mark pulls away, lips attaching to your neck and beginning to leave hickies that you realize where you are. The stained glass windows remind you that you are in a sacred place, Mark’s safe space, and you are actively sinning.

“M-Mark, we’re still in the church, let’s go back to yours,” you suggest. His hips buck up, his hard on begging to be released from the confines of his jeans.

“Don’t care,” Mark mumbles against the skin of your neck. “I won’t make it back to my room.”

You push Mark off of you slightly, and he looks concerned. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, when you sink down onto your knees in front of him. Mark pushes his pants and underwear down quickly, cock springing out and hitting his lower stomach. Your hand reaches out to touch him, and you spit on the tip, letting it dribble down the side of his cock.

“Oh my god,” Mark says with a whine. He can’t believe the sight in front of him: you on your knees for him in the middle of the church, hand wrapped around his dick pumping him slowly, and tongue kitten licking at the tip.

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Mark,” you say, before wrapping your lips around the tip entirely and taking him further in your mouth. You go as far down as you can, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark throws his head back, his hands coming up to hold your head still as he thrusts into your mouth.

“F-fuck, you feel so fucking good. So so good, oh my God.”

Mark thrusts into your mouth slowly, memorizing the feeling of your wet hot mouth wrapped around his hard dick. You’re so good to him, and in this moment, Mark knows he doesn’t want anyone else to ever suck his dick. He looks down at you with his lip pulled between his teeth, you’ve pushed your pants down slightly and your hand is shoved inside of your panties rubbing at your clit. You whine around Mark’s dick, the feeling of your fingers rubbing quickly on your clit bringing you closer and closer to your high by the second. You’ve been waiting for the day you finally get to see Mark like this, and you can’t believe it’s finally happening. You pull back, Mark’s dick slipping out of your mouth, and your fingers move faster.

“Fuck, Mark, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Let me see you cum, baby. Wanna see you get all messy for me.”

And with that, you let out a loud moan and cum in front of Mark. You clench around nothing, the emptiness frustrating, but you relax and slump onto Mark’s thigh as you come down from your high.

“Get up, baby,” Mark says. You nod, standing up as your legs tremble slightly. Mark pulls your pants and underwear the rest of the way down, helping you step out of it before pulling you back onto his lap. You grind against him, wet pussy covering his dick and bringing him so much pleasure.

“You know, when Father Fitz gave you the keys to the church to be with Christ, I don’t think this is what he meant, Mark.”

Mark pushes his cock into you, and lets out a groan at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him. You let out a sigh of his name, head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Your pussy is God.”

Mark quickly begins thrusting up into you, fucking you with all of the pent up rage he’s been holding in from hearing you fool around with Johnny for the last few months, and you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. Your hands rest on Mark’s shoulders, gripping tightly as he drills into you, your hips rolling forward to meet each of his thrusts. You let out a particularly loud moan of his name, head lolling onto his shoulder. You press a kiss to his neck, taking the skin into your mouth and between your teeth, leaving a beautiful purple mark on his neck as he moves his hips to thrust into you in a particular angle.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last,” Mark says, hips already beginning to fail in their rhythm as he gets closer and closer to his high.

“Mark, please cum inside me,” You say, one of your hands reaching for Mark’s hand, bringing it to your clit. His thumb rubs messily at your clit, bringing you closer to your own high. His eyes travel all over your body, taking in the sight in front of him. Your neck is covered in marks that he has left, your pussy is wrapped tightly around his dick, his fingers are rubbing at your clit, your hair is all over the place because of him, and you’re cumming around his dick saying his name. His. Not Johnny’s.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around him, and the sound of you calling his name, Mark’s hips stutter and push his dick all the way into you. He cums in thick white ropes, filling you with his cum as his hands grip your hips tightly, whining as he says your name. You both sit there, breathing heavily as you try to come down from your high. Mark’s dick softens inside of you, and you smile at him as you try to regulate your breathing.

Your cheeks are flushed pink, hickies littering your neck, and your hair is a mess. Your post-sex look is nothing new to Mark, he’s seen it a million times, but this time it’s different. This time, you’re dazed and satisfied because of him. He feels his heart swell in his chest at the realization, and he brings you in for another soft kiss.

“Baby, we should probably leave the church,” you suggest.

“Probably,” Mark says. He leans over, still inside you, pulling your underwear and pants up off the floor to help you redress. You both whine softly when he pulls out, and he quickly slips your underwear on for you. His cum drips out of you, pooling in your underwear as you pull your pants back up. Mark redresses, holding your hand as he walks out of the church, locking it behind him and hiding the key back in the birdhouse.

He instinctively begins walking towards his dorm, but you pull him in the opposite direction.

“Y/N, I live on the other side of campus,” Mark says.

“I know,” you respond. “We’re going to the soccer field.”

“Why?”

“It’s the best spot on campus to look at the stars. I went earlier this week so I could take you there.”

“But it’s cold,” Mark whines. You roll your eyes, slipping your jacket off and placing it over his shoulders.

“There you go. C’mon, let’s go.”

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dragoqueen · 3 years

Text

5 Times Bucky Helped out Peter + 1 Time Peter Returned the Favor

Summary: Peter may or may not be one of the best procrastinators there is. Which leads to some tricky situations when he has patrol late in the night and school in the morning. Luckily, Bucky is there to help him out.

Words: 1790

Alright, so maybe procrastinating on his homework by going on patrol wasn’t the best idea when he had a 3 page paper on WWII due the next day. But, in his defense, he had already created a plan for it. The thing could practically write itself at this point, and if only it could. The real problem was that he left it on his desk, and he didn’t remember half of it.

So here he was, sitting at his desk in the dark, with a single lamp on, a large mug of coffee to his right, and a computer with a blank google doc pulled up, the blinking cursor reminding him of every second gone to waste of him not getting any work done. His eyes were dry from staring at the screen for a good half an hour, and he was about ready to give up and just accept the terrible grade.

Suddenly, a noise from the hallway pulls his attention away from the computer. Footsteps slowly approach his room, though his spidey sense doesn't alert him of any danger. A mental arm slides through the cracked doorway and slowly the rest of the door opens to reveal Bucky, blinking from the sudden exposure to light. Peter quickly turns the brightness on his computer down before turning back to the man who had already taken a seat on the bed. “What are you doing up so late?” he asks gruffly, though Peter can sense the well-meaning-ness behind the question.

“Forgot I had a paper due tomorrow. It’s kinda important, can’t miss it.” he answers.

“You know you’re supposed to do that kind of stuff over time, properly. That way it turns out nice. What’s the paper over?”

“World War Two heroes.”

He lets out a soft snort, “well that should be pretty easy. You have two of us living with you.”

“Yeah, but all of my research is currently sitting in my desk at school and this is due tomorrow! It’s going to take at least a few hours to write this.”

“Peter, you can’t be doing this. A growing boy like you needs his rest. Especially you, being a growing spiderling and all.”

“I know. I’m sorry if I woke you up, I’m just trying to get this done as quietly as possible. I already made a cup of coffee to keep me up so I should be fine, and I promise I’ll go to bed when I’m done if you want to go back to sleep.”

“No. I’ll help you. Research will take too long, I’ll provide information and fuel. Stay here.”

Bucky stands up, ruffling Peter’s hair before exiting the room. Peter awkwardly sits there, his chair angled towards the doorway, as he waits for Bucky to return. He’s just barely fighting against sleep when he hears Bucky’s footsteps approaching the room. Ha makes an attempt to sit up more, but decides to just prop his head up with one hand.

Bucky pov

Bucky gives the kid a smile when he sees him. He was super adorable, and was definitely worth protecting. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters before, mostly just from nightmares and his body refusing to sleep. His mind always returns back to his time in the army and with HYDRA. He’d only told Steve about these nightmares, and typically they’d get through it together. Especially since Steve had trouble sleeping as well after being frozen in the ice for so long. However, Steve hadn’t been up when Bucky’s body refused sleep, and he’d seen the light in the baby spider’s room. One thing led to another and here he was, handing him a large pitcher of ice water, a cup, and a plate containing four ham and turkey sandwiches cut into triangle halves.

“Here’s the deal. You’re going to work and I’ll answer any questions that you have. If you finish at a reasonable time, I’ll make you a huge breakfast in the morning as a celebration. What hero did you choose? Steve… Peggy…?”

“Oh, actually Mr. Winter Soldier White Wolf Bucky Barnes, sir. I chose to write about you.”

“Me…” Bucky’s baffled. He hadn’t viewed himself as a hero in the slightest. Especially with all of the Winter Soldier… stuff. Even during the war he was more of a sidekick than anything. One of “Captain America’s” many accomplices. The kid was sweet though. “I… okay. I guess helping you with this thing is going to be easier than I thought. Umm… What kind of information do you need, kid?”

“One paragraph has to be general information about your life before the war, like where were you born, where did you go to school, what was your childhood like, etc. The second one has to be what was your contribution to the war, what you were mots known for, etc. And then the third one is about your affect on others and our everyday life, which is more based on me than research I need for you. All and all, pretty easy. Especially with your help, Mr. Bucky Barnes, sir. My research hadn't resulted in a lot of stuff because it's a "controversial topic at school," the kid actually used air quotes. He's so precious. "But, I did you anyway because you're really cool and more people need to realize it. Sorry if I ranted a bit there."

“It’s fine kid. Like you said, this shouldn’t be too hard. Also, you can just call me Bucky.”

“Alright Mr. Bucky. Let’s get started? I can just write down the information I need and then you can go to sleep-”

“Nope, we’re in this together. I’m staying up as long as you are so better get started.”

“Oh… alright then. I’m going to write a quick thesis and then maybe ask you a few questions based on the different paragraphs, if that’s all right?”

“Perfectly fine, kid.”

Peter writes out a quick thesis he’d been mulling over as he’d stared at the blank screen for so long. He thought it actually wasn’t half bad. Then, he begins filling in information on Mr. Barnes’ (he was still planning on calling him that in his head) childhood, adding in a few fillers here and there to make the essay fit the guidelines. Every once and a while he’ll take a long gulp of water or take a bite of one of the sandwiches. They were really good.

By the time the kid has gotten to his conclusion paragraph, he’s nearly fallen asleep multiple times, and the plate of food has long gone, though Bucky had continued to keep the pitcher full for the kid, despite his reassurance that he didn’t need it. Like heck he did. Finally, kid types the last sentence and turns it in, slumping over his desk on top of the recently closed laptop. Bucky chuckles, and grabs the dishes from the desk, assuming the kid would move to the bed by himself. Once he’s returned to make sure he’s asleep, the kid’s passed out, still over the desk. Bucky picks the kid up and moves him to the bed, Peter only letting out a small sigh in his sleep as protest. He pulls the covers over him before closing the doors behind him, moving back to his own room after finally feeling tired.

Steve’s sitting at the edge of his bed when he returns, looking slightly worried. He grins when he sees his husband return, scooting over to allow him to sit down. “Sorry I wasn’t up, you know you could’ve woke me up, right?”

“I know. But I didn’t want to disturb you. After all, you looked so peaceful,” he teases. “And anyway, the kid was still up doing an assignment.”

“He get it finished?”

“Yeah, helped him a bit. Gonna have to make him breakfast in the morning as a reward.”

“Well aren’t you the parent.”

“Shut it punk. I want to sleep.”

“Alright.” They both return to the bed and end up passing out almost instantly.

Bucky wakes up first the next morning, surprised to get some of the best sleep he’s gotten in a while. As promised, Bucky makes a large meal, fit for the endless void of food that was caused from the family of spies, gods, super soldiers, and other assorted bottomless pits. For the rest of them he whips up some pancakes, bacon, and eggs. However, for Peter he makes a couple of chocolate-drizzled croissants (a favorite of the spiderling) a chocolate flavored smoothie (with a bit of coffee mixed in for energy), and a small bowl of assorted fruits.

Soon after the foot is done the team begins to trickle in at their own pace. Pepper and Natasha are up first, having breakfast together with a cup of coffee before moving off to their assorted morning duties. Sam, Clint, and the twins appear shortly after, fighting over the biggest pancakes like children. In the middle of it Steve appears, giving his husband a kiss on the cheek before sitting in between the two squabbling children. Sam and Clint give one last glare to each other before settling with the food on their plates. Tony and Bruce were at a science convention meeting, so they were currently at a hotel in Washington. Strange had taken a visit to Kamar-Taj, so he too was absent from their breakfast. And Thor, Loki, and Carol were all off-world.

Finally, the spiderling made an appearance, solidifying his child-like being by rubbing his eyes with his fist, blinking into the chaos of the morning. FRIDAY automatically dimmed the lights as he walked in, alerting everyone of his presence. Various greetings were exchanged as he sat down at their abnormally large table for his breakfast. He looks at Bucky curiously, to confirm that his breakfast would be a satisfying reward, his eyes growing bigger than they had thought humanly possible when the tray of food was set before him. “Wow, thank you Mr. Bucky. You really didn’t have to do this!”

“Hey! How come the kid gets a special breakfast?” Clint complains.

“Because the kid actually works hard for things in life, and this is a reward for him. Now eat up Peter, Happy will be here to pick you up in about 20 minutes.”

Peter nods his thanks before digging into the meal. It tastes even better than he could have imagined and by the time Happy comes to pick him up, he’s eaten it all and feels fresh and prepared for the coming school day.

When he returns from school he happily tells everyone in the tower of how his teacher really enjoyed his WWII essay and had him read it aloud, which earns himself a proud smile from Bucky.

#bucky barnes #buckybarnes #peterparker #peter parker #avengers #spiderman #superfamily #5+1 #5+1 fic #fanfiction #fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic

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kiruuuuu · 3 years

Text

Protection Mountain: The Finale⛰️

Yes. It is here.

Montagne/Bandit conquered my heart so quickly with what was meant to be a oneshot, then turned into a small series of oneshots, and ended up as my longest series in Siege. And now their main story is coming to an end. I would like to thank absolutely everyone who participated in this journey, be it through direct messages, magnificent art, shared ideas, comments, reblogs, likes, the simple act of reading and enjoying - you helped make this happen, you motivated and encouraged me. Thank you for falling into this bottomless hole with me 💖

A special thank you goes out to @ekhap, who commissioned this piece in the first place - without you, it’s likely I never would’ve written it. I’m so happy you enjoyed it, and I hope all of you who stuck around long enough to read this will too.

I have actually managed to post the entire series on AO3 as well, so you can comfortably read (or re-read) it here!! And without further ado, here is the final chapter of Protection Mountain. (Rating T/M, hurt/comfort + a ridiculous amount of fluff, ~8.5k words)

“I’m leaving tomorrow”, says Madeleine, voice soft and always a reprieve from the harsh reality of the hospital room around them. “I don’t think coming back will be necessary this time.”

Montagne squeezes her hand, making her smile.

She’s been juggling family and career for her entire life and right now is no different: on slower or off days, she hops on the train to visit, taking the opportunity to report on some local stories on the way, utilising her travel time to write up or edit her pieces. A busy bee, always worried about being overshadowed by her older brother. They haven’t seen each other this much for years and though the occasion could be merrier, Montagne is fiercely grateful for her presence. He’s unloaded some of his worries onto her and she onto him, and somehow they ended up lighter than before. Tourés tend to stick together, given the opportunity.

“Why do you say that?”

“You might not realise, but you’re looking much better, Gilles. You’ll be let loose on the world again soon.”

They exchange a quick grin over her choice of words. She’s certainly more of a menace to society than he is, and they both know it.

Next to her, Lion is sitting in a second chair, rigid. He’s confessed to Montagne in private that Madeleine reminds him of his mother – whatever that might entail – and so he’s unfailingly awkward around her, probably ruing the fact that they happened to drop by at the same time today. Dealing with strangers isn’t usually a problem for him; dealing with family of friends, however, is.

Apparently, Bandit won Madeleine over immediately, surprisingly enough. She says it’s his horrific German accent whenever he attempts to speak French and his deadpan humour, but Montagne is relatively sure she senses a bit of how much Bandit cares for him. Tourés are also protective of each other, siblings even more so. She wouldn’t have told him a thing about Montagne’s current condition if she hadn’t thought his worry genuine.

And then, out of the blue: “Cathérine called me.” She still sounds conversational, but her gaze becomes a tad more attentive.

Montagne stills.

Lion’s gaze is jumping back and forth between them, the man even more uncomfortable now.

It’s the last person he expected Madeleine to mention, so he needs a second to compose himself. “What about?” He tries to search for emotions, for any kind of reaction to encountering his wife’s – ex-wife’s name, but comes up empty. It’s like hearing about an old, lost friend of his: someone who once used to be important enough to be mentioned in his will, now someone who barely counts as a remnant in his thoughts.

“You, of course. Maman tattled and, eventually, it reached her. She wanted to know how you are and whether contacting you directly is a good idea.”

“And your reply?”

“I said I’d ask you.”

He nods, thankful. During their divorce, too many people presumed what would be best for either side instead of addressing them directly. It didn’t feel like their own private business anymore, somehow it affected everyone and so everyone was entitled to an opinion and a listening ear. He appreciates Madeleine allowing him this kind of control. “I don’t think she has my current number. Please give it to her and let her know I’d be happy to talk.”

And that’s that. They kiss cheeks and do a half-hug, exchange verbal pleasantries which are nonetheless heartfelt, and then she and her mild perfume are gone, leaving behind a slightly relieved-looking Lion.

“You do look a lot better, you know”, he confirms Madeleine’s earlier assessment, and though he seems intent on changing the topic – for him, family is still a sore topic most days –, Montagne’s mind lingers. Vague memories form a blurry whole, the image so distant it may well originate in a film he once saw or a book he once read.

Catou used to be his entire world and there were days he was convinced he couldn’t go on if she were to leave him. Yet time, the wound-healer, sometimes corrodes instead – and in their case, it must’ve mistaken their passion and devotion for sickness, for it cured them. They noticed before comfort turned into indifference, but only barely. By the time they decided on breaking up, another man was involved as well, though Montagne assigns him no blame whatsoever. Until their divorce was finalised, Catou kept her friend at arm’s length and he never even attempted to get any closer; but while she didn’t allow herself to fall in love again until Montagne openly gave his blessing, he could see the seeds growing already.

Neither of them cheated, he knows this for a fact. They’d never. He noticed how she became aware of the possibility of being with another man after a few of their long talks which denoted the beginning of the end, and while it hurt, he vowed not to stand in her way. If he couldn’t support her, he at least didn’t want to hinder her.

What hurt the most wasn’t any misguided feeling of betrayal or even jealousy, no. It was the realisation that he simply didn’t suffice. He gave her his everything and it turned out it wasn’t enough.

Maybe this is why he won’t accept Bandit’s proposal: the creeping fear of committing fully and finding it to have been in vain.

“You never spoke about her.” His friend has indubitably noticed his mood by now, or maybe the lack of response gave it away.

He supposes he hasn’t. Neither to Bandit nor to Lion, actually, not even when the topic had strayed to Claire and Alexis. “There isn’t much to say”, he summarises well over a decade of companionship, eroded and erased slowly by the very thing which tainted it in the first place: time apart. “We fell in and then out of love. She was a remarkable woman. She deserves someone who can keep up with her.”

Lion fidgets a little, avoids eye contact. Montagne’s words might’ve struck a chord but he’s too exhausted, too restless to talk it out. Madeleine’s statement has given him hope that he can leave soon, leave Bandit’s birthplace behind, hopefully to return and make happier memories in the future.

His friend’s next question catches him off guard. “Why did you marry her?”

It’s so much out of character for him to ask that Montagne needs a few seconds to come up with a reply. “I loved her, with all my heart. I expected to spend the rest of my life with her. Why do you -”

“Then why are you saying no to him?”

Montagne stares, shocked. The slight petulant undertone, the hint of defiance, the blunt accusation – Bandit himself could’ve posed the question, and it’s not for the first time Montagne realises how alike the two of them really are. But what leaves him utterly dumbstruck isn’t the implication of Lion approving of a marriage between them, no, it’s the fact that he can’t come up with a reasonable answer.

At least not one which doesn’t sound like an excuse.

He must’ve realised the impact his words have left behind, so Lion swiftly changes topics yet again, allowing for Montagne to recover and respond to a few simple inquiries, but nothing really manages to soften the blow.

~*~

There’s a reason he chose le Roc over more modern, flashier, possibly more efficient alternatives.

When he was younger, he used to hide his height by slouching, felt embarrassed by the fact that he’d stick out due to something he neither chose nor controlled – as a tall, muscular man, he’s perceived as intimidating or, worse, a challenge. He reacted to mentions of his physique with sheepish smiles and laughed it off when people referred to his ability to beat up whomever he liked, portraying it as enviable.

It took him a while until he began seeing his build as an advantage. It took friends confessing they felt safe with him around. Acquaintances appreciating his company during the dark. His soon-to-be wife admiring his drive to put his stature to good use. Ultimately, it influenced first impressions only, a quick glance upwards, but as soon as people heard him speak gently, noticed his aversion to unnecessary violence, be it verbal or otherwise, they forgot about his impressive physique immediately.

Like le Roc, it’s a shield. He utilises his own body to protect others and has subconsciously done so his entire life, be it to separate his little sister from her bullies, friends from aggressors, or even two agitated strangers: he absorbs the blows which to him are no more than light punches whereas they could cause more harm on their intended victims. He’s been likened to a mastiff and their instinctual drive to break up fights by simply standing in the way.

Like le Roc, it’s an asset. And like le Roc, it can get damaged.

What he hadn’t realised is just how much he relies on his body to function exactly the way he needs it to.

His life is his job, they’re irredeemably intertwined, and imagining one without the other is … nigh impossible. His mind struggles to come up with alternatives – helping others is in his essence, but picturing himself working in a nursing home maybe or a school, a community centre, is madness to him. Catou had been very involved in these kinds of projects, volunteered wherever there was a need, and while he saw the good she did, the joy she spread, she had a certain soft touch he simply lacks.

He’s a mountain. He can kill and besiege and protect and recover and rescue, but the thought of being responsible for children not his own, or the well-being of elderly people, terrifies him. A small mistake, a brief distraction could prove fatal. He’s trained for combat.

He needs to recover.

Sometimes, he wakes up and can’t feel his limbs. He hasn’t stood on his own two legs for who knows how long. Movement hurts, lying down hurts, existence hurts. But what hurts most is the prospect of never returning to the work he’s destined for.

No one is allowed to catch a glimpse of his frustration as he feels it’s ungrateful, possibly even malicious. Not only should he be elated over having survived at all, it would also imply he regrets having taken the actions he did, and nothing could be further from the truth. Saving Lion was inevitable; he just wishes he could’ve gotten away with less serious injuries. He wishes so fiercely. Bottling up his anger is destructive and being fully aware of how irrational his behaviour is merely continues the spiral of negativity, yet he’s powerless to change it. The people closest to him are still processing the shock of almost losing him and don’t need the added burden of his dread for his own future.

He wonders whether Bandit is repulsed by him. Aside from his atrophied muscles, he’s lost weight, there are the burns which will likely mark his body for the rest of his life, another ugly scar on one thigh where he’s been stitched up. His skin is discoloured in multiple places and he vividly remembers the way Madeleine winced when she visited him the first time. He already doesn’t consider himself overly attractive, so he must seem frightening. It doesn’t help that Bandit distanced himself the way he did at first – though it was likely the shock affecting him still.

Recently though, his lover has been doing much better. He’s been doing amazing, actually: when Bandit isn’t visiting him, he’s out and about, meeting with friends from the GSG9, eating at exotic restaurants, working out, keeping himself entertained. He keeps messaging Montagne, sending photos of dogs he meets or particularly tasty dishes they need to cook together (or rather attempt to), and every line of text lightens his heart. Bandit even keeps Six and Blitz up to date, informing Doc of Montagne’s condition unprompted, and converses with Madeleine as best he can. Of course, there are bad days sprinkled in now and then, days on which his gaze is endless and unfocused, days on which Bandit is either taciturn or won’t stop talking about unrelated things so Montagne can’t ask him how he’s doing. Recovery isn’t fast or linear, Montagne knows this.

He’s so goddamn proud nonetheless.

And even though seeing Bandit flourish, having watched him pick himself back up and carry on where he left off, witnessing the man he loves with all his heart succeed over this void in his chest once again causes Montagne’s chest to swell in pride and adoration, there’s a bitter note to it. An out-of-tune note, a scratchy, unpleasant one. Because Montagne believes he knows the reason for Bandit’s sudden motivation to improve his existence. And it’s not for its own sake, not for Bandit’s own benefit alone.

Montagne remembers stewing in his own thoughts, fighting the urge to call himself useless, agonising over what might become of him, and there’s no way Bandit didn’t catch him wiping his face when he burst into the room that one day a while back. He must’ve noticed how red Montagne’s eyes were, unusually red. He must’ve realised how fucking weak Montagne is. And probably decided it was his turn to take care of his love.

The next day, Bandit announced having joined a local gym for the time being, as well as his intention to watch a film by himself later. It can’t be a coincidence.

There’s nothing worse for Montagne than being a burden.

~*~

Bandit’s energy is enviable. It seems he’s attempted to prepare for every scenario imaginable: he’s washed all of Montagne’s clothes, bought a variety of snacks and pastries, piled magazines on the bedside table, purchased all kinds of toiletries and remedies including a remarkably well-stocked first aid kit, arranged lush-looking fruits on the small desk of their hotel room, and even produces ear plugs and a sleeping mask the moment Montagne mentions feeling vaguely tired.

It’s hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere his lover creates, especially when his own chest seems unusually light compared to the weeks prior – he’s elated to be discharged from the hospital, even if all kinds of other worries creep up on him during moments of quiet. Being able to return home is a wish he harboured without realising: he thought all he needed was distance from the very place that so consciously reminds him of his own frailty, but it turns out privacy and a new environment don’t suffice, not even close. Sharing a space with Bandit and Bandit only is an immense improvement, yet he longs to sleep in his own bed, feel like he belongs instead of being a perpetual guest. Still, he’s grateful for the spacious hotel room, some peace and quiet, and the assurance that no one is going to randomly check up on him anymore.

Except for Bandit, of course.

Maybe it was Madeleine’s comment which inspired him, or maybe he hadn’t realised how much he’d recuperated already, but once his sister had bidden farewell, his condition improved fast. It culminated two days ago, when Bandit entered his room to find him awkwardly holding on to the bed frame but standing, fully upright with no outside help, due to his own strength. He half expected to be scolded, though his weakness must’ve taken its toll on Bandit as well because all he did was burst into tears from happiness.

Montagne very nearly joined in.

Six arranged a flight directly once she received the message, paid for a wheelchair without batting an eye and ordered him to take it easy nonetheless. His leg will take a while to heal and the broken ribs forbid the use of crutches, so Montagne dutifully agreed and thought he could hear her smiling over the phone. He missed her curt, professional yet caring attitude, and it seemed she’d be glad to see him again as well.

All of which is why he’s allowed to spend his last night in Germany’s capital in the very same hotel room he occupied before it all fell apart. The life before tastes like honey, sweet and much too rich, thick in his throat and welding his mouth shut: how much he took his health for granted baffles him. How careless he was. How ungrateful. He longs to get back to lazy evenings with an oversized cat purring on his chest, to the chaos of messing up yet another recipe, their light-hearted bickering, not a care in the world. He’s desperate to return to it, without that creeping feeling of guilt over turning Bandit down for a mixture of sentimental, inadequate reasons he can’t even explain to himself. He lacks the words to express why the image of swapping rings or – heaven forbid – inviting his entire family to a big ceremony fills him with nothing but dread when instead he should be exuberant. Flattered, maybe.

“Do you want to shower?”

Bandit reminds him of a puppy, easily distractible and well-meaning, radiating pent-up energy. Montagne regrets having to refuse him anything. “No, I’d rather just read a bit and sleep. I can shower at home tomorrow.”

His lover very nearly pouts. “Are you saying I have to find another excuse to touch you all over?”

Montagne’s chuckle almost gets stuck in his throat. He’s not ready yet and has been racking his brain for reasons why they can’t sleep in the same bed, or why he won’t be able to undress at any point. He’ll have to deal with this eventually, but his foolish mind has convinced him he’ll be able to postpone it indefinitely if only he manages to use his injuries as a pretext.

If he wasn’t so fucking terrified, he’d call himself childish.

There’s no doubt Bandit has made an effort to tidy up the room, yet there are unmistakeable traces of his prolonged stay everywhere – the overflowing suitcase, tissues poking out from under furniture, too many cables for too many electronic devices carelessly strewn about. Housekeeping probably gave up after two weeks and resigned to only vacuum wherever possible and change the bedsheets, and the thought of exasperated staff dealing with the stubborn git he missed like hell makes him smile. He’s heard stories from various nurses and highly enjoyed Bandit’s redemption arc of starting out as a nightmare and turning into the highlight of their days. If he saw correctly, Bandit even bought them flowers. He must be very proud of his newly discovered move to weaken grudges.

“Wanna get on the bed?”, Bandit interrupts his thoughts a little too casually, so Montagne eyes him with suspicion.

“Do you want me to get on the bed?”

His better half purses his lips, probably considering whether it’s worth pretending like he has no idea what Montagne means (and oh, he hasn’t even considered this prospect, they’ll be finally alone and undisturbed, and despite his aversion to show any part of his skin, his body expresses some interest in the scenario) – but Bandit still manages to surprise him by muttering, almost embarrassed: “I just really want to cuddle right now.”

It’s disarmingly adorable, and Montagne’s heart melts. “Let’s do it, then”, he agrees. There’s some awkwardness in manoeuvring him out of the wheelchair and onto the much-too-soft mattress, but Bandit is stronger than he looks and able to provide enough support. As soon as Montagne sinks into the plushy pillows and Bandit presses himself against his side, all tension suddenly vanishes: his muscles relax, his thoughts calm down, his skin stops prickling. He hadn’t been aware how much he missed simple contact like this, the heat of another body against his own, the blissful feeling of being safe, being home, being loved.

This tiny bubble of everyday life suffices to soothe his cracked soul. He wishes he could wrap around Bandit fully, envelop him whole, drag him onto his chest, pull him into his arms – even offering his shoulder for Bandit’s head to rest on would help with his burning desire to be as close to him as possible, but for the moment he can’t. Not without considerable pain. Still, Bandit’s hand has slid into his, their fingers interlaced, and a gentle, regular breath caresses his cheek. Now and then, Bandit nuzzles him, presses a kiss to his cheek, sighs in contentment. They could stay like this for eternity.

And yet, Montagne’s guilt prohibits him from letting go completely. He has rejected this man. Refused to accept him into his life fully.

“If you wanna watch something, I pirated eleven films we haven’t seen”, Bandit murmurs against his jaw and makes him chuckle.

“I remember the hotel’s internet being unreliable. Don’t tell me you used public Wi-Fi? Mark would be horrified.”

“Yeah sure, I just sat down in the nearest McDonald’s and downloaded a hundred gigs of illegal stuff.” Bandit’s grin is boyish and attractive and so cute Montagne just wants to burn the image into his brain. “Better, actually – I asked one of the boys to do it. So we conspired together.”

“Are you going to miss them?”

Bandit thinks about it and eventually shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. It was nice seeing them again. But I think I miss everyone at Rainbow more. I haven’t been apart from everyone this long… ever, I think. Since I joined.” There’s more on his mind, Montagne can tell, so he waits and peeks down at the dirty blonde hair, the wild beard. Apparently Bandit decided shaving was too much of a hassle, so he gave up on it completely for the time being – and Montagne wholeheartedly understands. If he could grow one, he definitely wouldn’t be running around with naked cheeks.

After a while, Bandit adds, quietly: “I did visit Cedrick.”

Montagne wants to smack himself. How could he forget that Bandit’s twin still lives in Berlin? And while he’s proud of Bandit for taking the initiative and seeing him of his own accord, Montagne feels that he himself could’ve raised the possibility sooner. He knows they’re close, as close as any family member could ever hope to be with someone as fickle as Bandit, and he probably would’ve done wonders for Bandit’s psyche. “How is he? How is his family?”

“Good. They’re good. Gave me too much food, as usual. His wife got a promotion recently and the boys are doing great in school. They want to go to university later, imagine that. The first Brunsmeiers to go to uni.” Bandit glances up at him. “I also told them about you.”

There it is. He must’ve been dying to tell Montagne, judging by his pink cheeks and nervous fidgeting, and his demeanour as much as his words conjure up a bright smile on Montagne’s face. They had an unspoken agreement, an implied promise that they wouldn’t tell their families until they’re ready, which meant until Bandit was ready – coming out to friends was a big step, coming out to Rainbow a massive hurdle, and coming out to his family must’ve been a mountain to climb. His comfort zone has been steadily expanding, yet actions like these still turn Bandit into a skittish cat sometimes.

For someone with commitment issues like this, it’s incredible that Bandit decided for them to get married.

“Dom, mon amour, I am so proud of you.” He kisses Bandit’s temple and smiles even wider at his desperately dismissive mumbled reply of ‘’s nothing’. “That is wonderful news. How did they react?”

“Well, they wanted to meet you immediately.”

Yet they didn’t. Montagne’s smile fades a little. Did Bandit not want anyone to see him like this? Best case scenario, he figured that Montagne’s current state simply wouldn’t do him justice, and worst case… Would he be ashamed of him?

“But obviously, that didn’t work out, so I told them -”

“Why didn’t it?”

He must’ve noticed something, maybe an odd expression, because he reassures him instantly: “My love, I saw them yesterday evening. You’ll meet them soon enough, trust me. They were very supportive, in any case. I think Ced is just glad to know there’s at least one person out there who can tame me.” Bandit’s hand brushes over Montagne’s belly, toying with the hem of his shirt, and he puts his own over it.

Maybe he’s being dramatic. Thinking about it, his recent thought spirals followed a similar pattern to the dangerous ones Bandit entertains much too often, the ones Montagne has been trying to interrupt whenever he notices them. Except that Bandit can’t read minds as of yet and probably has no idea what’s going on with him, and how should he. Montagne hasn’t said a word. They haven’t mentioned their brief engagement, or whatever the fuck was going on for a bit, at all.

Maybe when Montagne said that he was worried about losing Bandit, he didn’t just mean Bandit’s own withdrawal from their relationship.

“I don’t like that you see me like this.”

Bandit reacts not, doesn’t glance upwards, but there’s a tightening of his half-embrace. He’s listening.

“I can’t stand it, in fact. I feel useless and powerless and I can tell it weighs you down as well.” Once he’s started speaking, the words nearly tumble out of his mouth by themselves, one by one does the truth finally spill over. “I’m sorry. You’re trying so hard, mon cœur, I know you’re trying so hard to be strong for me, and I love you for it, but… I don’t want this. I don’t want to be like this. I should be the one there for you.” His heart is heavy, his mind darkened and his eyes burning, threatening tears as evidence of his own fragility. Rarely do his emotions get the better of him yet his self-control is raw and worn out from too much use without a chance to replenish. “I know I should be grateful I survived, but I feel like an annoyance. I don’t even know if I can go back to Rainbow, I don’t know whether I’ll fully heal and I hate it.”

Before he can feel guilty for loading even more onto Bandit’s shoulders, his love cradles his head in surprisingly warm hands, whispers his name and puts their foreheads together. “It’s okay”, Bandit mutters, even though both of them know it isn’t, “Gilles, stop. It’s okay. Listen to me.”

Montagne expects platitudes and white lies, misplaced optimism, a few phrases people throw out and pat themselves on the back for consoling someone, but instead, Bandit says: “Look. All of this fucking sucks.”

Well. It sure does. Montagne frowns.

“I’ve been in the hospital before, I was injured pretty badly and felt less worthy than a sack of potatoes, believe me. I was hardly myself, I couldn’t sleep, the constant pain was horrendous and on top of that, all the pretty nurses were talking smack -”

This startles a small huff of amusement out of him and effectively interrupts his intrusive thoughts. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“- I’m getting to that part. But you probably know how degrading it is when you can’t even piss by yourself, right? That’s the fucking worst. You’re like a baby, and you definitely feel just as stupid. It was one of the worst months of my entire life. But you know what? I got better.”

Ah. There we go. Montagne’s mouth goes thin.

“No, I know what you’re thinking: empty promises. You don’t understand how true it is, though. I’ve been rock bottom a few times, but it gets better. You’ve been there for it, so you know what I mean. And don’t even think for a second that each rock bottom was the same level, no, there were times when everything seemed hopeless, but honestly? Each time, it got a little easier to get back out. To get out and get to a better level than before. My parents…” He catches himself and shakes his head a little. “I don’t wanna keep talking about me right now.”

Montagne nudges him. “Please do. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A deep breath later, Bandit continues: “My parents valued independence highly, so Ced and I were encouraged to help ourselves, which I suppose is a good thing. But it also taught us to not rely on anybody else. To not expect any safety nets: you fall, that’s it. Convincing yourself it’s worthwhile to go on after you’ve fallen was hard. I felt like I failed at life, and for a bit, giving up was the better alternative. But I did have a safety net after all: Ced did his part, a few friends did, my boss, too. So it worked out.”

“But you got worse again”, Montagne mutters.

“Yes. I got worse. Still, by then I knew not only that it was possible to get back out, but also that others would help. Miles away from asking for help, mind you, but with more hope. I kept learning. And…” Despite his reluctance to go on, Montagne remains quiet and waits. Some part of him realises it’s something Bandit has to say. “And… as horrible as that sounds, as much as I don’t even want to imagine it… I think I’m at the point where I could go on without you. If you didn’t – didn’t make it, for example, I could… I think I could. The beginning would be the absolute fucking worst, no doubt, but I’d find something to – to make it worth it. To continue.”

Wordlessly, Montagne drags him into a bear hug. Presses their bodies even tighter together, ignoring the stabs of pain in his side, ignoring all his muscles protesting, ignoring the uncomfortable weight against his injured ribcage. He just needs this man like air all of a sudden, and it seems impossible to him how he could’ve ever rejected him in anything.

He knows exactly what Bandit means. It might be put in a morbid way, but he’s trying to express just how much Montagne has helped him. Comparing this version of him with the fragile creature he once warmed in his arms is unthinkable; this Bandit isn’t vulnerable anymore. And though he was hit hard by Montagne’s near-death, he ended up recovering, largely due to his own strength. A few years ago, he would’ve reacted very differently to nearly losing a loved one, that much is certain.

Bandit is clinging to him as well, taking measured breaths against his jaw and hiding his face. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know”, he whispers, voice cracking. “And even if you lost all your limbs or your eyesight or what the fuck ever, you’d still be you. You’d still be as great as you were before. That’s a fact, you dumbass. And if you can’t do Rainbow anymore, you’ll open a stupid dog café in Marseilles or sell Fairtrade products in a corner shop, I don’t bloody know. All I know is that you shouldn’t listen to that irritating voice in your head because it has absolutely no fucking idea what it’s talking about.”

By now, Montagne is chuckling and crying at the same time, overcome by too many emotions to be able to process any of them. It feels like he was allowed a deeper look in Bandit’s workings, like he’s able to understand him a little better. More importantly, he does feel significantly less stupid now that he knows Bandit is familiar with thoughts like these and already opened himself up about them.

“I’m also worried you’d be put off by all my injuries”, he admits after a while of comforting physical contact, feeling much more confident in himself and assured they can actually talk things out.

His better half lifts his head to squint at him in confusion. “Put off…? Like, grossed out? This is nothing, I once had someone in my arms whose guts were – wait, you don’t mean that I’d find you unattractive, do you?”

Montagne eyes his love for a moment, the man whose knees get weak whenever Montagne whispers a single filthy word in his ear, the man who has admitted to having more wet dreams about him than he’d like, the very man who so valiantly held himself back until Montagne allowed him to let loose, and who has never held back since. The man Montagne missed every lonely second he spent without him over the past weeks. “Well, I’d hope not”, he mutters.

Bandit looks at him like he grew two heads. “Are you serious?”

“The bruises still look quite bad, and all the -”

“Okay, listen. You stop talking. I’m going to kiss every one of your bruises until you’re not sure whether it hurts anymore, and then I’ll make you come so hard you’ll pass out. To hell with waiting, I won’t take this for another second.”

He’s not sure whether he should take it as a threat or a promise, but when Bandit starts pulling Montagne’s clothes off his body, he finds that he has no intention to argue whatsoever. And it’s good to know this part of him still works. “Be careful, mon cœur.”

Dark eyes flick up and are accompanied by a growl: “Can’t promise that.”

And though this one was definitely a threat, all Montagne does is smile. He didn’t even realise how much he missed this.

~*~

Bandit continues to do all the work for them the next morning: he orders room service and serves Montagne breakfast in bed while also shoving everything he finds into their suitcases. No need to separate their clothes or belongings; they’re going to the same destination anyway. They should travel more, take some time off and explore the world together – a notion Montagne hadn’t entertained until now as he was never really tempted to leave France or just Europe in general without good reason, and their missions abroad together with the other operators’ supplemental information used to be sufficient for him. But now, the thought of spending a week in a hotel with no one familiar around him but Bandit, the image of them going on walks while holding hands, pointing out quaint aspects of the place around them… it’s enticing. He vows to bring it up sometime.

Muscles still sore from the previous night, his mind is the opposite: he feels refreshed, optimistic, motivated. Part of the reason is undoubtedly the sex, he can’t deny it – falling asleep with Bandit in his arms, the faint feeling of satisfaction still coursing through his body, it’s as invigorating as the act itself, the knowing, challenging stare as Bandit swallowed -

Well. He shouldn’t dwell on it. They don’t have a lot of time planned between leaving the hotel and the departure of their flight.

But anyway, it’s not just that, it’s also the conversations before and after. The way Bandit made him realise what exactly is important, that he can rely on his lover without a guilty conscience. He kept repeating how beautiful Montagne was, even during, and though it caused him to blush in considerable embarrassment, he certainly feels less self-conscious now. There wasn’t a single second in which Bandit’s assurance wavered, no moment where he showed doubt. He meant what he said.

And, thinking about it, it would be the same for Montagne. He wouldn’t care about Bandit’s physical state. He’d still love him unconditionally.

Then why are you saying no to him?

It’s different, Montagne wants to argue in his head. But is it? He’s known Bandit for longer than he did Catou when he proposed to her. They were at a different point in life then, not entirely sure about their careers (well, she wasn’t), uncertain about their future (and children is still a sore spot he refuses to entertain), really too young to make such a momentous decision. He’s been living together with Bandit for long enough to assess how well they work together. How well they fit.

No. It’s not any different in his heart. Where it’s different is his head: he’s twice shy, irrationally worried about getting hurt. And consequently hurts Bandit instead. Bandit has openly declared his wish to make their undying love and loyalty official, whereas Montagne punishes him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime which was nobody’s fault, in the end.

Watching Bandit tear through the room and toss most of what they own into the nearest suitcase, Montagne notices how there’s one object Bandit hasn’t touched. Montagne’s passport. And he probably never will again, without explicit approval. He made a mistake, apologised and learnt from it.

Now it’s Montagne’s time to do so.

“Dominic”, he says, and instantly all activity halts. Bandit is comically frozen mid-throw, like a deer in headlights. Montagne never calls him by his full first name. “Mon amour.”

“… yes?” He seems unaware of the severity of the situation as of now.

“I would like to change my mind. If it’s still possible.” Montagne extends his hand and, instinctively, Bandit glides over to take it and sit down on the edge of the bed. “I do want to marry you.”

Bandit blinks at him. “Oh”, he says. And then: “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it, and I realise I’ve been unfair. We don’t have to rehash how… questionable your proposal was, but it made me overlook the most obvious truth: that I do love you above all and want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I do want to make it official that way.”

Bandit still looks dumbstruck, probably overwhelmed from the suddenness of the announcement. “Uh -”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like us to have rings, too, so I can carry something on me at all times that marks me as yours and the other way round. So yes, mon cœur. My love. I hope your proposal still stands, because I would like to accept it.”

By now, his lover has turned crimson. He’s fidgeting with Montagne’s hand, bending his fingers and generally not knowing what to do with his own, and his embarrassment is terribly endearing – up to the point where he mumbles something Montagne would swear he misheard. “… for the benefits”, Bandit ends, apparently addressing his own feet.

Now it’s Montagne’s turn to blink, uncomprehending. “What was that?”

“I wanted to marry for the benefits”, Bandit repeats, louder, and Montagne’s mind screeches to a halt.

He stares at Bandit, Bandit stares at the ground. “You… what now?”

“Not just – well I mean, also, but definitely not only… you know, financial, because I think there is…” Bandit’s tongue seems to be disobeying him. “But, mostly because…”

“What on earth are you saying, Dom?”

“I wasn’t allowed to visit you.”

The shoe drops.

Boy, does the shoe drop. This explains so much. Montagne blanks for a second before his brain retroactively feeds him bits and pieces of information which now neatly fall into place, now that he’s been handed the solution on a silver platter. In his delirium, he never questioned why Madeleine was the only one coming to visit him – hell, even his parents did – instead of Bandit as well; he did hear about a fight between Bandit and Lion and probably, in his feverish mind, figured that Bandit was banned because of this and couldn’t visit him as a result. But never, not for a moment, did he consider the option that they simply turned Bandit away because he was no more than a stranger to them, no official connection between them.

No wonder Bandit went stir-crazy, no wonder his mind snapped and convinced him faking official documents was a reasonable long-term solution, no wonder he announced their wedding so casually without ever officially proposing. It was never meant to be a step forward for them as a couple, was never meant as any kind of declaration – it was meant as a preventative method in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

No wonder Bandit is thoroughly embarrassed by Montagne’s acceptance speech.

If there even was any left, all of his residual anger vanishes upon this revelation. He’s not even dismayed about Bandit’s motives: had he, at any point really, explained himself, Montagne might’ve actually agreed with him – because while a marriage means something much more sentimental and symbolic to Montagne, he understands Bandit’s viewpoint as well, especially under the circumstances.

Bandit is still avoiding his gaze, so he lifts his lover’s hand and kisses its palm until he has his full attention. “We’ve become victims of a grave misunderstanding”, Montagne states, a smile playing on his lips. “I understand now. Still, my point stands: I would like to be married to you, for the reasons I stated, and also for the reasons you had in mind. But I’d like you to think about it, because we obviously have different approaches and I want to be sure our expectations match.”

And this is the moment burning eyes meet his, framed in an expression so open and vulnerable that Montagne has no doubt about the authenticity of Bandit’s next words: “I don’t need to think about it.”

Montagne’s heart doubles in size. His composure, his tension, all of it melts instantly, replaced by a heady rush of pure serotonin as he realises just how right this decision feels. Inevitable, almost, like this has been their destination all along without either of them being aware, but now they’re here; exactly where they belong. All their time together has led up to this, the difficult conversations they had, the obstacles they overcame, all the beautiful little moments which were wholly theirs. It’s incredible to him how far they’ve progressed, from near-strangers who barely exchanged a word to lovers so intimate they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

It’s not about the proposal itself, not about the wedding or even the marriage after – Montagne himself knows best that a marriage is no guarantee for happiness; instead, it’s something deeper, significant only to them. A promise to each other, a promise to take care of each other, to stay loyal and supportive, to listen and talk to each other. Ultimately, it’s extremely private, yet they might decide to share it with the world regardless.

“Come here”, he pleads and kisses Bandit, half drags him onto himself and pushes his hands under Bandit’s shirt – no, his own shirt, he notices, the one Bandit slept in. A shirt he brought Montagne to wear in hospital and a shirt he took back to wash it, but it seems he didn’t get around to doing so. Instead he just wore it. “I love you so much”, Montagne whispers against scratchy beard hair, and of course that moment someone knocks on their door.

They look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes. Lion has terrible timing.

“We don’t have much time left!”, the other Frenchman announces from the other side of the door. “So whatever it is you’re doing, you better -” He stops once Bandit yanks open the door with an annoyed scowl.

“We were actually getting ready”, Montagne lies smoothly and can’t help his beaming expression. The same glowing, fluttery feeling which has settled in his stomach is tugging on the corners of his lips, forcing him to grin.

Lion raises a sceptical brow. “Seems like you kissed and made up then.”

“And out”, Bandit provides helpfully. “Don’t stand around, get this luggage downstairs, I’ll take care of Gilles.”

“That better not be a euphemism”, Lion scoffs, but Montagne catches him fighting a smile himself.

Maybe the two of them are contagious. It would certainly make for a more pleasant flight.

~*~

By the time they’re back in England, Lion is thoroughly done with their shit.

The entire jouney, Bandit fawned over Montagne and tended to his every wish – uttered or not –, all of this done on top of all the accommodations he’d booked in advance. They spent a relaxed hour in the airport lounge, sipping on overpriced drinks and listening to the bustling around them, and even flew first class despite the shortness of the flight. Not even the screaming baby that performed the entire duration as if it was having its debut on the big stage was able to put a damper on Montagne’s or Bandit’s mood, and part of him understands Lion’s irritated response to their admittedly disgusting lovey-dovey aura.

His friend started out being cordial and visibly swallowing various remarks, progressed to thin-lipped, high-browed and disapproving, and ended with eye rolls and audible sighs. Every affectionate nickname worsened his mood, every public display like kisses or interlacing their fingers prompted a judging glance, and every soft-spoken sentence had him check his phone for the time.

Montagne has no space in his fully-occupied heart to feel any sort of guilt, especially because he suspects Lion is largely doing it for Bandit’s benefit as the German seems to relish the reactions he provokes. He is very smug.

His suspicions are apparently confirmed when he’s alone with Lion for a minute while Bandit bodychecks his way through an unmoving and uncaring crowd blocking the baggage claim. “Seems like you came to an agreement after all”, Lion states neutrally.

“We did. And if I’m honest, something you said helped with my decision.” Lion only nods, like he expected it. Curious. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to like him? If so, I won’t need a wedding present from you because that’s all I could wish for.”

“Let’s not go that far”, comes the hasty response and Montagne chuckles.

“Then why?”

A one-sided shrug. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

They share no more than a significant look before Bandit returns, masking his annoyance with overdone cheeriness, and so his statement remains unexplained. Whether he finally noticed the mirrored qualities he and Bandit share, whether he’s referring to Montagne’s first marriage, or whether he’s implying that he might meet Bandit with a different attitude in the future, Montagne doesn’t know. Still, the assertion resonates with him.

Seeing the oh so familiar landscape rush past the window on the last leg back to Hereford evokes an odd kind of nostalgia in Montagne. The view is one he’s always enjoyed, it marked the end of a difficult mission, the return to normalcy in a way – because his life at Rainbow has become the new normal for him, his everyday life, the foundation for his daily routine. The company of his colleagues is dear to him, as is the work itself, and as gruelling their training schedule is, he sleeps better when his muscles are sore and his head heavy.

Knowing he won’t be able to go back to this life for the foreseeable future causes a bittersweet feeling in his stomach. He will still participate, no doubt, will be included in briefings and kept up to date, will confer with teammates, offer advice. So it’s not like he’ll be isolated or exiled. But the knowledge of being incapable of doing what he’s used to stings a little.

Even so, his mind is focused on another matter. There are many more obstacles to overcome in the future concerning their engagement, starting with their respective families (though he’s under the suspicion Madeleine has realised something is up, even if she might not be aware of the severity of the situation) and ending with important decisions on how to hold their wedding party – but the most valuable aspect is that they’ll be doing it together.

Although he’s not so sure whether Bandit is ready for some of it.

“Take it to your grave or I’ll haunt your son when I’m dead.”

Lion seems largely amused by the threat, patiently waiting in front of the main entrance to Rainbow’s headquarters for Bandit to open the door. “One of his friends is a flat-earther, so he’s faced worse.”

Montagne snorts and Bandit nearly slams into the doors from scowling back at the other Frenchman. “Seriously though. This is just between us for now, alright? Even I haven’t told anyone, and neither has Gilles. Right, my love?”

“I’d like to point out that you were the one who told Olivier about your ‘proposal’ in the first place, mon cœur. Drunkenly, if I remember correctly.”

“Does that mean I can’t even tell Gustave?” Lion seems intent on making Bandit faceplant after all – he’s got the easy job of pushing Montagne around whereas Bandit is tasked with the much more difficult assignment of holding doors open for them on the way to their canteen. “I would love to see his face.”

“No. Nobody. Especially not in Rainbow.”

“What about Père Bertrand?”

“Absolutely not. Who knows whether he’s a snitch.”

“Who would he snitch to? God?”

“Look. I don’t know why this is so hard for you.” Bandit’s voice is rising in agitation as he shoulders open the last door, back turned to the room behind him, eyes fixed on Lion. “Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Okay? No one needs to know. No one! This is just between us.”

Montagne’s composure is crumbling. Wordlessly, he indicates the entirety of the canteen with a vague gesture, trying his best to hold back a hearty laugh.

In response, Bandit whirls around with a wild expression, only to be faced with an entire room decked out with the gaudiest decorations in pink and white, plus literally all of the other operators arranged along the wall, holding confetti cannons or glasses of champagne, wearing party hats and utterly aghast expressions, and above them, floating below the ceiling, are gold balloons spelling out E N G A G E D.

The awkward silence is palpable.

The champagne bottle in Blitz’ hand pops with a startlingly loud noise, making everyone jump and almost taking out Twitch’s eye in the process, and Lion just starts roaring with laughter, holding on to the wheelchair as to not lose his balance.

“Welcome back, Gilles”, Doc offers and lifts his glass for a toast, and that finally breaks the spell. Everyone rushes at them, congratulating them and greeting Montagne after his long absence, Rook with tears in his eyes and Jackal with an encouraging smile, there are too many faces and too many well-wishes to identify them all. Their gesture is heartwarming, and though Bandit stands in the middle of the crowd, hiding his bright red face with one hand (and repeating that no, he is not taking questions right now), he’s far from fighting the many hugs he receives. When Sledge takes him into his arms, there’s audible bone cracking and joint popping, and Montagne is suddenly glad to be confined to the wheelchair.

Maybe their reveal didn’t go quite as planned, but the support they’re receiving is invigorating. Montagne might’ve preferred a small wedding prior to this, yet being confronted with hard evidence of how much all these people care for them is beginning to change his mind.

He will talk about it with Bandit, later. For now he has a party to attend.

#rainbow six siege #montagne #bandit #montagne/bandit #lion #fanfic #protection mountain #I'm personally very happy with how all this is concluded #thank you to the one person who started all this you know who you are #thank you also to suzie for keeping this ship alive all this time #thank you all #💗💗💗#ALSO #CAN YOU GUESS WHO'S THE SNITCH?

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aquatik · 4 years

Text

history in the making

pairing- atsumu miya x reader

word count- 1500

genre- fluff

fem!reader

history isn’t a common class many people enjoy. sure, they might not hate it, but it’s certainly not their number one subject. you quite happen to enjoy the subject. you found it entertaining how the study of the past occurred. how viewpoints have changed, or overall how different the past is from your now present. this current semester, your curriculum was starting to learn about american history. this you found exciting since it was different than what you were used to. to make sure everyone was paying attention to the last few chapters the teacher briefly touched on, you were put into pairs to present a certain topic of the chapters you had gone over. you had gotten the early development of the american government, dating back to the declaration of independence, the first president, etc. you were given a couple of main questions to answer then you had to make a presentation on the whole topic as if teaching it to the class.

this was a relatively difficult project concerning you and your partner were responsible for teaching the class on the subject. especially since you had gotten mr. ’head empty, only setting’, as you like to call him. your partner was miya atsumu. you could still feel the glares of the angry fangirls on your back, but you chose to ignore it.

miya atsumu, you both weren’t exactly the closest but you would like to consider you were more than strangers. perhaps friends? you both sat next to each other in your classes you would ask for the page number, he would ask for notes, etc. you had noticed throughout the time he had a dislike towards history. when you both got assigned partners you couldn’t help but notice how his then bored expression now became a little less bored. he turned toward you and gave you a small thumbs up. you had honestly found it adorable. well, you had until you could swear you heard most of the girls in your class start to snarl- wait was that a growl?

sighing, you shift your body forward returning your full attention to your teacher. well as much of it as you could with the two distractions- miya atsumu and now his fangirls. sure you had to admit to yourself that he was quite attractive. would you admit that to his face is another question.

“class, remember this is due in two weeks. miya, l/n, stay for a couple of minutes.”

“sensei, is something wrong?”

“not at all, i just wanted to say you guys are taking on the longest section. remember to manage your time correctly.”

“right, thank you!” you said as the golden blonde and you walked out of the classroom.

“finaally out of that class,” he said while stretching his arms.

“when are you free?”

“huh?”

“what do you mean ‘huh?’ i’m asking when you’re free for the project. you heard sensei, it’s the longest one in the class. it’s not something you can leave for the last minute you know?”

the older twin had stared at you, almost dumbfounded. his expression screamed ‘project? me? what, when? what about volleyball?’

“let me put this into simpler terms for you.” you had said, sighing into your hand.

“when..are..you..not..playing..volleyball..” you said slowly, trying to make the words sink into the setter like he was a sponge absorbing water.

“you see, i am playing every day!” atsumu says with a dumb, yet you had found adorable smile before smacking him.

“don’t give me that crap miya. it’s called a partner assignment for a reason. and no, don’t try that ‘i can present’ excuse on me miya. you need to know the lesson and with the number of volleyballs you draw in your notebook every class i doubt you know it.”

“yer’ so mean and for what l/n-chan.”

“it’s not mean it’s being a realist.”

“okay okay fine, i have a general idea but not the best.”

“great, now your brain is working,” you said with a slight smile. to another person, it might have seemed rude but this was your guy’ es normal.

“but it is true i have volleyball everyday. i have about an hour before practice every friday.”

“hmm, that won’t do...it’s too much material to cover in an hour.” you had said tapping your arm, a habit you had created.

“alright, the best way i can see us doing this quickly and correctly while taking away less time from your sport is one day you will need to skip practice altogether.”

“damn really?”

“yeah, sorry about that. but i think we can spend about maybe two hours, four being the max in the library doing research and answering the questions, and then heading to one of our houses to create the presentation. the atmosphere of a library can get exhausting, and i believe it’s the easiest and most efficient course of action. we could do it this friday so you miss a little bit less practice.”

“i hate having to miss practice, but it is what it is ain’t it?” he had said raking his hand through his hair.

“yeah, let’s do it this friday. i honestly didn’t expect you to want to consider my practice.”

“it’s fine so this friday-“ you had said before getting cut off.

“tsumu, your going to be late!”

“shut up i’ll be fine samu! here, just text me later okay?” he said while handing you his number while bidding you farewell and a small ‘see ya tomorrow!’

•

“ready to go miya?” you asked as you slung your bookbag onto your shoulder.

“atsumu.”

“what?”

“call me atsumu, it’s easier when we’re around samu anyways,” he said once again with the signature thumbs-up you both shared.

“alright then atsumu.,” you said, the word seeming foreign as it rolled off your tongue. not to mention the creeping blush appearing.

“what’s so weird about it y/n-chan? we’re friends ain’t we?” he said, facing you while walking, almost tripping in the process.

“y-yeah.” you had said, stuttering since you were still laughing at him for almost falling backwards.

“atsumu! you’re going to be late for practice,” his younger twin shouted at him. along him was suna and kita waiting for the golden blond to join them.”

“sorry! i have a project to complete!” he shouted at the trio.

“you? not going to practice what is tha- ohhh i get it.”

“well good on you prioritizing your grades miya, see you later,” kita said as he dragged the gray-haired miya and suna by the ear before they made fun of him.

“what was that about atsumu?” you had asked, pivoting to face atsumu face to face.

“who knows, anyways let’s go.”

•

“huh? why is this so complicated!” atsumu exclaimed as he banged his head against the written on table in the library.

“atsumu, it isn’t that difficult,” you had said with an awkward laugh. you guys had gotten all of your research for the presentation and decided to leave the questions for last.

“yeah, easy for you to say y/n-chan, yer smart.”

“anything but that.”

”sure.”

“but really,” atsumu started. “why do we need to know about the first president of the united states? the question is ‘why did george washington know he was setting a precedent and how did this affect how he governed?’ what does precedent even mean?” atsumu asked.

“precedent means an action or event that sets a guide or example for similar events in the future.”

“but still, i don’t think it’s that important. setting a precedent and all,” he said

“really? that’s funny..” you said trailing off.

“hmm? why do you think that,” he asked, subconsciously leaning forward.

“well, it’s just ironic to me,” you said looking up, as if asking for permission to keep talking. like reading your mind he nods his head.

“i mean, i just feel- no scratch that. i know you are going to set a precedent. i mean look at you! haven’t you seen how great of a setter you are? atsumu, you’re going to be one of the best setters this world has seen! atsumu, you’re going to set an example of what a setter should be. you’re going down in the history. i’m so lucky to be able to see history in the making right in front of me..” you said, trailing off embarrassed at your sudden outburst.

“you really think that..?” he said, dumbfounded. slowly going back to his original position from before he leaned forward. now a dumb, lovestruck smile and slight blush adorned the setters face. not that you knew of course. you lightly nodded before you two continued to work.

“atsumu?”

“yeah?”

“george washington knew he was setting a precedent since he knew he was going to be an example for future presidents. he knew he would become an important figure in history, which made him carefully chose his actions while governing. that’s the answer.”

closing note: the actual historical information can very well be wrong i am going off my memory

general taglist is open, send in an ask :)

general taglist- @drabblily @bellesowl @miki-snake @newfriendjen

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #atsumu #miya #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq!!

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incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms · 4 years

Note

Fanfic trope! Alex/reggie, alex kiss reggie after he says something kinda dumb but very very sweet? Thks!

Thank you for the prompt! I know this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but this little idea popped up into mind and nagged me until it was written. I hope you enjoy!

Hot Dog Engine, Alex/Reggie

Tags: Fluff, College AU, blink and you miss it angst, some pining

Alex’s problem was all Luke’s fault.

Not that he had done it intentionally. But ever since Luke and Jullie started dating he had been absent from their hangouts, leaving Alex and Reggie to hang out. Alone.

At first it had been awkward, both of them not sure how to act with each other outside the usual dynamic of their group, but that soon passed. Overall, it wasn’t that different than when it was the three of them.

Without Luke there to distract both of them, Alex was paying complete attention to Reggie and noticing things that he would have otherwise missed. Like how Reggie had a habit of eating his skittles in color order, and that he had a habit of bouncing a little when he was really excited about something. How his eyes scrunched and his voice got a little higher pitched when he was being defensive.

At some point Alex realized that he noticed these because he was staring. Staring at Reggie’s fingers, at his mouth while he ate. Staring over at Reggie whenever they were practicing or looking to him first whenever anybody had good news. Staring as he started another argument with him just so he could see his eyes scrunch that way again.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but one second he was just a guy hanging out with one of his best friends and the next he was a guy who was hopelessly crushing on a sweet, oblivious idiot. Alex tried to ignore the part of him that was completely unsurprised.

It wouldn’t have been a problem, but Reggie was everywhere. At some point, Reggie had decided that bothering Alex was his favorite pastime and since then had started seeking out Alex whenever he was bored, always having something he was excited to talk to somebody about. So Alex had to just sit there with his best friend and pretend that he didn’t want to kiss him all the time. It got really hard That Reggie flirting with every single girl who looked at him didn’t bother him. That it didn’t especially bother him when Reggie flirted with Flynn right in front of him at a party one Friday night.

That it was definitely not the reason he was sulking in the studio, trying to finish the reading assignment that was due Monday.

“Hey Alex,” a voice called out from the other side of the room. Alex glanced up to see Reggie lounging in the doorway. His signature leather jacket must have been too hot for the weather because he was just wearing a pair of slightly baggy jeans and a slightly too small t-shirt with his usual flannel around his waist.

Alex looked back down at his book without replying, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at Reggie’s lazy smile.

“Aleeeeex,” Reggie whined when he realized Alex wasn’t gonna answer him. “Entertain me I’m bored.”

Alex chose not to acknowledge him again, turning the page instead. He heard Reggie huff in annoyance at being ignored and Alex repressed a grin of amusement. He was sulking for a reason dammit! He was so distracted with not paying attention to Reggie that he didn’t notice the sound of him walking over until it was too late.

“Oof!” Alex let out a quiet noise of surprise at the sudden weight in his lap. He looked down to see Reggie smiling up at him with an impish grin.

“Hey,” Reggie winked.

“Can I help you?” Alex asked in mock annoyance.

“Yeah, hang out with me. I’m bored.”

Alex rolled his eyes and looked back down at his book. “Go bother Luke.”

“Luke’s with Julie for their six months,” Reggie waved his hand dismissively.

“How disappointing for you,” Alex said dryly.

“I wanna hang out with you more anyways,” Reggie’s impish smile turned bashful at that. How he managed to look bashful while draped across Alex like a cat was beyond him.

Even though Reggie had said it many times before, a warm feeling blossomed in Alex’s chest and he couldn’t help the small smile he felt stretch across his face. He hid his face in his book as he felt the warmth spread to his cheeks. Reggie shifted so only his head was in Alex’s lap instead of his whole body. They sat in silence for a moment, Alex pretending to read and that he didn’t notice Reggie’s expectant gaze.

Alex finally broke the silence. “Even if I wanted to hang out, I gotta finish this book by tonight so I have time for practice later.” He hoped that would be enough of an excuse to get Reggie to go away. “I have an exam tomorrow, and I’m not about to give Professor Covington a reason to fail me.”

“His obsession with failing you is kinda weird, huh?” Reggie mused. “Maybe he’s trying to fail cause he wants you to stay with him another year.” Reggie nudged Alex to look at him, eyebrows waggling. “Maybe Professor Covington has a crush on you.”

Alex shuddered and the other boy started shaking with laughter at his own joke. “Please no.”

“If you don’t want to do it you could always drop out and start a company with me.”

“Don’t you think that would be impractical?” Alex replied in a teasing tone.

Reggie scoffed. “Course not. I got the whole thing planned out”

“Okay,” Alex laughed, lowering his book, “then what does our company do?”

“Uh…” Reggie reached a hand up to scratch his nose pensively.

“Let me get this straight,” Alex said. He restrained himself from adding ‘which I am not.’ “You want me, a broke college student, to drop out of college with you, another broke college student, to start a company which you have no plan for?”

“Hold on,” Reggie said defensively, sitting up so he and Alex were face to face. “I totally have a plan.”

Alex’s mouth went dry as Reggie put his face so close to his own, his field of vision narrowing to dark green eyes and lips stretched into a crooked grin. All he would have to do to close the gap would be to lean forward just a couple inches—

“Prove it,” Alex teased, mentally chasing the thoughts from his head as he gently pushed Reggie further away. He had gotten good at ignoring those kinds of thoughts the past couple months.

Reggie stood with exaggerated showmanship. “Well, I am so glad that you asked.” He grabbed the flannel from his waist, tied it around his neck like a really crappy cape, and struck a dramatic pose. “Are you ready for this awesome?” He asked with mock seriousness.

Dork, Alex thought to himself. “By all means Reginald. Blow me away.” Reggie opened his mouth and Alex just knew he was going to hear the biggest load of bullshit ever.

“Well, my slightly taller friend, have you ever been walking down the street and realized that if you didn’t get a hotdog in the next ten minutes you would die?’”

“No.”

“Have you been looking for an easy way to get meals while on a long car trip that doesn't involve stopping at a restaurant?”

“Still no.”

“Have you ever wondered if you were getting the most out of your vehicle?”

“I don’t have a car Reg,” Alex reminded him. Where was he going with this?

“Well,” Reggie drove forward undeterred, “have I got news for you. Now introducing…” Reggie paused his theatrics to look over at Alex expectantly, “little help?” Alex rolled his eyes and began to give a drumroll with his feet. “Now introducing… the hot dog engine!”

Alex snorted. “The what?”

“The hot dog engine!” Reggie said excitedly. “On the outside, a regular car. But when you pop open the hood, BAM!” Reggie loudly clapped his hands together, “a hot dog cooker right next to your engine, powered by the same battery!”

Alex started laughing at that. “Reggie, that is so dangerous. You could get oil or battery acid on the hot dogs which would kill you.”

Reggie gasped in offense, “where is your sense of adventure?”

“Must have lost it when I lived past the ripe old age of 18,” Alex said back dryly.

Reggie huffed before readapting his dramatic businessman persona. “Well not to worry, I have plenty more where that came from.”

“Oh goodness please no,” Alex said in mock horror.

“Leashes for fish,” Reggie shot out.

“Useless”

“Crocs that smell like pumpkin spice.”

“Who’s purposely gonna smell them?”

“Pet rocks.”

“Already done.”

“Umbrellas for your shoes,”

“What’s with you and feet?”

Reggie choked on a laugh and stared at him for a moment. Alex was definitely amused by this whole conversation, but if Reggie kept staring at him and saying stupid things that made him laugh they were gonna have a problem. He needed to shut Reggie up somehow.

His friend opened his mouth to suggest his next ridiculous idea, “what about an air cannon that blows out candles for you—hmph!”

The tiny ‘hmph’ of surprise was because Alex had figured how to shut him up, by launching himself across the room and pressing their lips together.

Oh god, Alex thought to himself the moment he realized he was kissing him. He pulled away, stepping back to look at Reggie who was staring at him wide-eyed, frozen in shock. Oh crap, oh god. What did I do? He’s gonna freak out he's gonna hate me he’s gonna—

“Well that just gave me a great idea,” Reggie cut through Alex’s train of thoughts.

“R-Reggie I’m so sorry,” Alex quickly stammered out his apology.

“Alex—” Reggie tried to speak.

“I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I know you and Flynn just started having a thing and that you don’t like me that way—”

“ALEX,” Reggie said more forcefully. Alex stopped his rambling and stared up at his friend anxiously. Reggie took a deep breath, “my idea was that you could just bring your boyfriend to lecture to show Professor Covington you aren’t interested in him.”

That didn’t make sense, “who’s my boyfriend?”

“Well me, if you stop freaking out long enough to kiss me again.” Reggie’s face turned bright red as he processed what he said. “I-I mean if you want to. You don’t gotta um…”

Alex felt the wide smile on his own face as he processed what Reggie was saying. He reached out and interlocked their fingers together. “Can I kiss you again Reggie?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The second kiss was so much better than the first. The soft press of Reggie’s lips against his own made the butterflies he had been trying to digest for months fly around his chest for free. The hand that wasn’t holding Reggie’s moved up to cup the back of his head.

Eventually, Reggie pulled away, his breath was a little quicker than before and his cheeks were flushed. Alex felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with anxiety and excitement.

“I should probably tell you that I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Reggie laughed.

“Oh,” Alex felt the tips of his ears burn. “Yeah. Uh, yeah. I mean, me too.”

The answering smile from the boy in front of him was blinding. “Oh nice, does that mean I can be your boyfriend and make Professor Covington jealous?”

“You do know professor Covington just hates me cause he hates everyone right?”

“Alex,” Reggie huffed in annoyance, “you’re ruining the moment.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can be my boyfriend.”

Leaning in for their third kiss was Reggie’s response to that statement, and it was even better than the second.

Then the fourth which was better than the third. Then the fifth that was better than the sixth and so on until they both eventually lost count.

#alex x reggie #jatp #julie and the phantoms #how do i use the line cut thingy?#prompt #fanfiction

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space-kitten-606 · 4 years

Text

A Burdening Assignment

“Welcome home!!!”, your boyfriend’s voice chimed through the bunker the moment you stepped in. A faint smile flashed over your face.

“Heya.”

Within the blink of an eye he stood next to you, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek. “How was your day?”

You grimaced at the question. Your day hadn’t been bad per se, but despite classes being over for today, your work was far from done. Mumbling to yourself, you shrugged the question off and dragged yourself into the kitchen. It was a lot less messy than usual. Looks like Vanderwood visited earlier today.

Not quite having caught up yet to your low mood, Saeyoung followed you, chattering away. On a normal day you quite enjoyed hearing him ramble, you still adored it now, but your mind wouldn’t allow you to pay attention to anything he was saying. It was already occupied with the rest of your day, which was without doubt going to be pure torture.

“....I haven’t seen Yoosung that upset since the chocolate milk incident”, Saeyoung chuckled. Unsure of what he just told you, you nodded along, hoping he wouldn’t be offended that you didn’t really take part in the conversation in the first place.

To your relief, he did not say anything. He kept rambling to you a little longer, but eventually he told you he’d leave you be and work on some blueprints in his office. There was good and bad about this. On one hand, it meant you had one less distraction around. On the other….

You sighed and searched your bag for the material you’d need to work on the dreaded assignment. You started a small part of it a while ago, but it didn’t take long for you to hit a roadblock. Ever since then, you chose the cursed but tempting way of procrastination albeit being mostly involuntarily. Day by day you told yourself you’d do it tomorrow, just for tomorrow to come and push the work away from you again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to work on the assignment but you couldn’t. By now however, there weren’t many tomorrows left until it was due. If you don’t get it done now, you told yourself, it’ll be too late and you will fail. You were painfully aware of that, from the very first day you were told to do it, but somehow it didn’t give you the push to actually finish it. Or continue working on it, in this case.

Shaking your thoughts about the situation off, as much as you could anyway, you grabbed your notes to see how much you had prepared so far. It was far from finished, but more progress than you remembered having. That didn’t seem too bad. Taking the little bit of motivation you could hold on to, you dove head first into the material, trying to put the assignment together in your head. You read the information given to you time and time again, wrote a couple of things down, then deleted them, just to write them down again but this time with different words. You worked hard, the paper next to you filling with side notes and your mind racing to try and make a sense of it all. Except that….it didn’t. Nothing about this made sense. No matter how often you read the same words over and over again, you just didn’t seem to understand. This couldn’t possibly be that hard, right? Everyone else could do it too, why can’t you?? It was unfair! You tried so hard and yet your progress was so slow, you couldn’t help but doubt if there was any to begin with. For what felt like the hundredths time, your eyes fixed on the time stamp in the corner of your screen. You hadn’t even worked on this for that long. It had been roughly an hour since Saeyoung had left you alone but it didn’t look like you got anything done. When did you lose focus? What have you been doing all this time?? Frustrated, you put your head in your hands.

Humming, Saeyoung looked over the blueprint in front of him. He was more than pleased. Slowly but surely his new robot started to resemble something recognisable. He wasn’t too sure where to go from there, but it would surely fall into place eventually. Saeyoung stretched his limbs and glanced at the clock. Weird. He hadn’t heard any noise from you for a while. He knew you were quite busy working on something yourself, but usually he’d hear you mutter to yourself or move around every so often. The last time you had made any distinguishable noise was at least twenty minutes ago. Finding the silence on your end at least a little unsettling, he got up from his seat and walked back over to the kitchen. If you still weren’t in the mood to talk, he could at least pretend he was just going to get a snack or something to drink. When he stepped inside, he saw you hunched over the table. The surface of said table was covered all over in papers and notes and in the middle of that chaos stood your laptop. The screen had already turned black, indicating you didn’t do anything for quite a while. Just by looking at the scene, he could easily tell what was going on. Not waiting for you to acknowledge him, he walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?”, he asked carefully.

The sudden touch and the sound of his voice made you jump in your seat. You hadn’t noticed him coming in at all. In a weak attempt to hide the few tears you could feel on your cheeks, you wiped your face with your shirt sleeves and turned away from him a bit more. The last thing you needed now was for him to make fun of you about how stupid you were. Of course, you weren’t that lucky. Even if he hadn’t noticed you wiping your face, the little dark drops on the paper in front of you gave you away immediately.

“Are you crying?”

You muttered a stubborn “No”, shaking your head to reinforce your lie.

Saeyoung let out a deep sigh and took a seat next to you. “It is okay to cry if you’re upset.”

A bitter laugh fell over your lips. Right. You didn’t want to bother him with this again and yet he was witnessing you fail at a simple task. Again. You couldn’t even begin to assume what he must think of you.

You only barely took note of him tapping the spacebar on your keyboard to take a look at your work so far. Here it comes. He would see how little you actually got done and be disappointed. Just like yourself and everybody else.

“Sorry to say this but…”, you braced yourself for the blow to come, “I don’t see why you’re so upset. This doesn’t look bad so far.”

“Wait...what?”

“What I mean is, it’s looking quite good. Sure, it needs some polishing here and there and there’s still quite a bit to go, but you’re doing great!”

You were more than hesitant to take his encouragement seriously. A little polishing here and there? He was clearly playing things down. You read over what you had so far, making your head fall into another frenzy. How could he possibly think that was okay?! That whole paragraph sounded like complete nonsense, and you still had so much to go.

You considered to just ignore him for a moment, but before you knew it your doubts spilled out.

“I just don’t know what to do. I don’t understand any of this. And even the parts I think I understand I can’t put into words. I have to finish this. I just have to. But I don’t know how. It’s just...so much. I don’t even know where to start.”

“You already started”, he reminded you calmly.

“I mean. Yes. But there’s still so much. The deadline is so soon and I don’t think I can make it. I don’t even know what I don’t understand. And the things that I think I understand….I don’t know how to put them. I don’t even know if any of that makes sense. Does it? I don’t know and if it does it’s probably wrong anyway.” During your vent you kept pointing at the screen and at your notes, your voice rising as you panicked more and more. You could physically feel your mind spiralling into an inability to function the way you needed it to. Not that it was functioning in any way you’d call satisfactory in the first place.

Saeyoung listened to your rant for several minutes, humming and nodding along as he ran his hand up and down your back. He didn’t know if it helped you at all, but he also didn’t want to just sit there and do nothing. He kept listening as you ran in circles, making your point over and over again, dissecting every little problem into such tiny pieces, it made them look so much bigger than it actually was. But he knew better than to interrupt and let you speak your mind, until your voice finally died down.

“I’m sorry”, you mumbled, “I really don’t want to annoy you with this again.”

“You’re not annoying me at all.”

You liked the sound of that, but it was more than hard to believe. It must be so taxing for him to hear you ramble about the same thing over and over and over again. When you looked at him however, instead of an annoyed frown, you could see an understanding smile.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at your notes?”, he asked. He didn’t touch anything before you gave him clear permission. He read through each of your handwritten notes with ridiculous speed, sometimes nodding, sometimes frowning, but it looked like he got a vague understanding of what you wanted to do. Once in a while he’d point at a couple specific mentions and asked you for an explanation, but he didn’t seem very critical at all.

“I think I know why you’re stuck.”

You stared at him in surprise. That didn’t take him pretty long. It must be a huge and obvious mistake. Then again, he was a genius. Still, you let your eyes wander over your notes, trying to find the issue he pointed out so easily.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard. Let’s take this one step at a time, okay? I’ll help you.”

“Saeyoung, I don’t think you understand how important it is to get this done asap-” Your protest was cut short by your boyfriend placing a kiss on your lips.

“I know. And you- no. We will get it done in time. Pinky promise.”

A part of you wanted to keep protesting. But the way he smiled at you made you want to believe he was right. You wanted to believe that you would get this assignment done, even though you felt bad needing his help again. And when he looked at you like this, it almost convinced you it didn’t bother him to do this together with you at all. Almost. You couldn’t help but have a little bit of doubt remain, but you pushed it to the back of your head as much as you possibly could.

Grabbing a blank piece of paper and a pen, Saeyoung started to break the assignment down bit by bit. Each time he was done breaking it down, he showed you the steps he had so far and asked you whether the steps are understandable to you or if they’re too unclear. There was no point in you pretending to understand when you didn’t. You knew how easily he could look past that facade without even trying, so you remained honest. Each step you did not comprehend he broke down more and more. Eventually, you couldn’t help but scoff at the steps.

“These steps you wrote down are so small, it makes me feel stupid”, you pouted.

Saeyoung was clearly amused by it, stifling a chuckle. “It’s not stupid at all if it helps you to see the assignment through. It’s easier to take very very simple steps and makes the task more overseeable, don’t you think?”

You glanced at his simplified list once more, comparing it to the one he had written before that. Even though the new list seemed somewhat ridiculous to you, the other seemed slightly confusing. It just wasn’t precise enough.

“.....I guess you’re right”, you admitted your defeat. There was one clear downside to the incredibly simplified tasks however. The list had gotten pretty long. “I appreciate your effort, but I’m not sure if I can really do all of that.”

Saeyoung pursed his lips and turned his gaze to the ceiling, trying to find a solution for this last problem. He was silent for quite a while, leading you to assume that this had him stumped as well. To your surprise, his eyes lit up, implying an epiphany. He turned to you with a triumphant smile.

“I got an idea. What do you say….every….five or so small steps, we take a cuddle break for a few minutes? I’d even share my chips with you, you know the ones! And when you’re completely done with the assignment, we’ll order your favourite take out! What do ya say??”

He was clearly proud of his idea. You couldn’t help but get swept up in his excitement. That didn’t sound too bad. It would certainly ease up the dry part of the rest of the day, which would be working on that assignment. You couldn’t say you weren’t completely pleased with his offer yet.

“What if I want kisses as well?”, you asked with an impish grin. Saeyoung beamed at the suggestion.

“Along with the cuddles and the snacks, you may also have all the kisses!”

You raised your hand, pretending to count on your fingers. “All of them? That’s so many!”

Laughing at your childlike joy, he inched closer to you. “You know what, I’m even going to pay you one forward”, he cooed and kissed the tip of your nose, “Now let’s do some work so we can get to the cuddle and snack part ‘kay?”

Nodding in excitement, you collected together the notes you’d need for the first part of the tasklist. To your own surprise, you found yourself at least a little bit motivated to get some work done. With your boyfriend having your back, the assignment was going to be at least a little bit less terrifying now.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #mystic messenger 707 #707xmc #707xreader #request #my writing #hope this is okay hhhhh #i know I didn't quite go all in with everything you told me but i hope you like it regardless uwu #also the title.....we don't talk about titles on this blog #any mentioning of my titleing abilities is prohibited

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