“I keep better time during hockey season,” Jack tells him once. “Easier to track a life in wins and losses than in idle days, eh?”
And Nursey can definitely relate, but he definitely doesn’t say so. Not when Bitty gets that look on his face at overhearing the conversation, like what Jack’s just said is the saddest thing to ever be uttered. The hockey robot who can’t quite human the way he should.
The thing is that Nursey is his own kind of robot, if he’s honest with himself. Which he tries not to be anymore. “Honesty” usually packs a punch that he would rather not suffer through if he can help it.
Robot Nursey is very good at projecting the appearance of a person that is the polar opposite of the person all of his internal thoughts and emotions want him to be. He can compartmentalize nearly any situational response that goes against this outward ruse. And he can neatly divide his own life up into a series of challenges that his careful mask has faced, and a collection of coping mechanisms to go with them.
NCT 127+ Ten Reacting To Their Girlfriend Straddling Them In a Non-Sexual Way
HI I was wondering if you could nct 127 + tens reaction to you walking over to then, straddling them and running your fingers through their hair. Not in a sexual but in a “making sure you’re real/comforting” way. I really love your writing 💕💕 (ps sorry if this got sent multiple times. I didn’t know if it went through the first time)
Taeyong was having a bad day. Nothing was going to plan and he hated everything. But then he saw you, wearing his oversized T-shirt and smiling at him. When he didn’t smile back you walked over to him and sat on his lap. He groaned, “Not now Y/N.” He sounded to tired. You ran your fingers through his dark hair and kissed his forehead, laying down on his chest. He felt a smile creeping on his lips as he stroked your back.
Jaehyun sighed, putting his work away which was only half done. Stress was getting to him but he was trying to tone it down and not get too worked up. You were busy working on your own assignments when you saw him slouching with his head in his hands. You instantly put away your laptop and walked over to him. “Jaehyun?” You asked. He looked up at you, his eyes tired and watery. You pushed him back gently and sat on his lap, straddling him. He smiled at you and hugged you close as you ran your fingers through his hair.
You surprised Doyoung at his practice room. He was dancing alone and looked really frustrated. He slumped against the wall and looked at you in dismay. Before he could react you already sat on his lap and straddled him gently. You kissed his nose and ruffled his hair, trying to comfort him. “You’ll get there, don’t worry,” you said softly. He nodded as he pulled you close.
Johnny had just come back from the studio. You looked at him excitedly as he lazily dropped on the couch. You slowly got up to sit next to him and straddle him. He had initially thought your intentions were leading somewhere else and he told you he wasn’t in the mood but he was proven wrong as you played with his hair in a loving way. Your touches made him feel lighter, less stressed and when you started to get up, he pulled you close, not wanting to let go.
Yuta stared at his screen, looking distant and weary of his surroundings. Your eyes fell on him, a single bead of tear trickled down his left eye and he quickly dried it away, smiling. You went up to him and witnessed him staring at the picture of his mom and him. Your heart hurt to see him this way, it must be hard for him to be so far away from his family. You took him by surprise by sitting on his lap and straddling him. He only stared at you in confusion as you placed yourself on his chest. “It’s okay,” you whispered. He held you close and rested his chin on your forehead, happy that at least you were here.
Taeil sat on the sofa with his guitar on his lap and a pen between his fingers as he worked through melodies, composing and humming. You stared at this beautiful human in awe and kept on listening to his melodious voice feeling dazed and drunk at the same time. You tiptoed in his direction, careful not to startle him. “Taeil,” you cooed. He smiled at you putting his guitar away. You quickly took your spot on his lap and played with the glistening strands of his hair. “I love you,” you said. He smiled bright at you and rested his head on your chest as you stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.
Winwin sighed loudly, breaking your concentration as you typed in your assignment. He sat back, closing his eyes. “Why is Korean so hard,” he said in Korean. You giggled at this strange boy and walked over to him. He looked down in surprise as he saw felt you straddling him and resting your head on his chest. He smiled a you and played with your hair. “Thank you,” he said and you held him tighter.
Ten missed his family and when he did he made sure everyone knew. Not that he said it out loud, he just mentioned his mom’s cooking and his sister’s banters a lot and looked distant. You would know if he’s feeling that way instantly, considering you had been dating him for quite some time. You sat on his lap as he rested. “What,” he mumbled, sounding tired. You kissed his cheek and played with his hair. He just stroked your back and smiled to himself, glad that you were here with him.
Mark was a blushing mess when you played with his hair and comforted him. “You don’t always have to be the best Mark,” you said. He just stared at you in awe, convinced that he hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful. He gulped hard and nodded. You smiled at him, resting your head on his shoulder. After a while his hands found your back and gently stroked you, still blushing and shook.
“Get off me you filthy human!” He said, hiding his apparent blush and stress. “Oh my god you’re blushing!” You laughed. He looked away, embarrassed. You ruffled his hair. “Its okay.” He squinted his eyes at you and he pulled you in for a hug. What a cutie.
I’m sorry but
“Kevin stared hard at the top of Andrew’s head like he was considering calling Andrew’s bluff.”
This boy is so stressed already and he just got strangled by Andrew and now Andrew’s got a knife to him all nonchalantly and Kevin is just like “yep here we go with more of this BULLSHIT,”
Dean finding a picture of old Castiel, fem!Castiel, not knowing that this is Cas. And going on and on about her beauty.
“Holy shit Cas, who is this hot chick? Damnn.”
and the thing is, Dean would only be talking about her eyes. How blue they are, how he’s a sucker for blue eyes in general, how that beige coat just emphasises the BLUE in her eyes even more.
Dean writing an ode to the woman’s beauty, before Cas quietly says, “that’s me. Was me. This is my old vessel.”
Dean pausing immediately, “this is…you?” Because he realises that he basically spent the last 10 minutes describing, in excruciating detail, how hot his best friend is to his best friend.
Dean wanting to act casual about it and saying “Oh, man, great job. That’s a good vessel you picked. That’s. Um. Yeah. Good…good choice.”
Dean hastily adding, “Not that you, you know, did a bad job with your current vessel or anything. Jimmy’s great, like, in terms of, as in, body-wise. I mean, same blue eyes, right? Uh. And well-built, too. Sturdy. He’s, I mean you, you’re, you’re good looking now too. Um.”
Dean finally just blurting out “basically what I wanna say is that you’ve always been hot, cas.” before bolting the fuck out
Cas, still not having said anything other than the original clarification, just staring after him with confused comprehension, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a cocked head.
Sam accidentally witnessing this exchange and laughing till his stomach hurts.
Summary: (Y/N) wakes up to the fire alarm blaring at 3am in the apartment blocks. Angry and annoyed she meets the generous, kind, hilarious Stiles Stilinski.
Word Count: 650
A/N: This is short but I haven’t posted writing in a while so I wanted to write something quick yet very cute.
“Quick! (Y/N)! Wake up,” Janet, your awfully loud and very
annoying roommate, screamed tearing the blanket off your now freezing cold
body. You were about to give out when you heard another sound that snapped you
awake. “Is that the fire alarm?” You shouted, jumping out of the bed and
shoving your feet into a pair of sneakers.
Janet grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the room and
through the crowds of students rushing around like headless chickens. “Please
do not run, follow the exit signs.” A masculine voice shouted over the rustle
and bustle. You groaned when you noticed that you were in a pair of pink and
purple pyjama bottoms, topped off with a black tank top. You were going to be
You descended the stairs quickly, pushing past students that
were only awake and exited the wide door at the end of the hallway. “Oh my god,”
You shouted, feeling the 3am air hit your skin. “I swear someone better be
dying in there,” Janet laughed at your sick humour before walking over to a
group of your friends.
You stood awkwardly away from the building in case the
fire caused something to explode. “I swear a whole floor better be black and destroyed,” You
grumbled to the person next to you. You wrapped your arms around your body
trying to get some heat into you, running your hands up your now goose bumped
arms. “You won’t like the fact that I just heard it was a false alarm so.” The
person replied, playing on his phone.
You snapped your head to him, not
believing it. “I’ll murder someone.” You hissed, bouncing up and down in your
spot.The stranger shook his head laughing, “Stiles,” He said
bringing his hand to the zipper of his hoodie, before taking it off him.
blush made its way to your face when his bare torso was in view. You coughed
awkwardly before a feeling of warmth covered your body; realizing that ‘Stiles’
just wrapped his hoodie around your body. “Thank you,” You whispered, “But you’re
going to be freezing.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” You blushed more
furiously looking away before staring back at him. “I’m (Y/N).” He nodded,
noting your name before jumping into a conversation about criminal justice,
which he was doing. You liked the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his
father that was the Sheriff in his hometown, and the way he would look you in
the eye and look away just as fast; obviously embarrassed.
You don’t know how long you were standing out there with him,
talking about nothing and everything. You did feel an ounce of regret though
when he started shivering uncontrollably. “No, no, leave it on.” He muttered
when you started to remove his hoodie, you shook your head and gave it back to
him. The warmth and scent disappearing.
He placed it on but never zipped it up,
“Come here.” He said bravely, and you followed his demands stepping closer to
him. He laughed slightly before pulling you so that you hit his chest. “Stiles,”
You laughed, as he zipped up the around your body as well. In fairness, it is
an incredibly baggy hoodie.
“Perfect,” He mumbled, and you shuffled so that you could
look up at him. “It was nice meeting you,” You teased, amusement in your voice.
It was nearing four o’clock in the morning, and you felt yourself getting
tired. Letting out a yawn, you let your head rest on Stiles’ chest and his chin
rested on your head. “Whoever pulled that alarm..” You warned quietly. “You
wouldn’t have met me now though.” He laughed, wrapping his arms around your
body. You nodded, feeling yourself drift off standing up.
“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we can go inside.”
@abreathofsnowandashes said: There would have been A LOT of Irish emigrants in Boston in the 1950s, particularly Irish speakers. There would have been Scots too, but in much smaller numbers and Gàidhlig would have been much less likely to have been spoken for obvious reasons. I’d love to see Jamie overhear Gaelic (Irish Gaeilge or Scottish Gàidhlig, he’d understand both) being spoken, or maybe come across a hurling/shinty game and make a connection
Notes from Mod Bonnie:
This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
“Happy Halloween,” chirruped the pimple-strewn lad pumping the Gasoline.
Jamie gave the boy a smile and a nod. “Aye, many thanks, and the same to—Bree, no!” He lunged across the wide seat of the Ford and grabbed her round the middle. She protested and scrabbled vainly for the door latch she had very nearly gotten open. “My apologies,” he said out the open window as he righted himself, holding the lass firmly on his lap, “she’s quite the handful.”
The boy gave Brianna a little wave. “Got big trick-or-treating plans tonight?”
“Ach, no, not this year. Just a bonfire with some friends.”
Burgers, marshmallows, candy, and beer! Nothing fancy! Tom had assured him. Just bring you, the family, and maybe some ice?
Jamie had left work an hour early to drive home, shower, change into clean clothes, and pick up Brianna to drive the two of them back to Fernacre for Tom and Marian’s gathering. Claire was working overnight, this evening, and Jamie was feeling just that wee bit awkward about the prospect of a social gathering without her at his side. Granted, he would know nearly everyone present; and they were his work comrades, after all; hardly strangers.
Still, when the convenient topics and tasks of work were removed from his social scenarios, there would always come the odd moment where his ignorance of modern times or American tastes or both would be thrust into the spotlight (“What did you think of the game?” or “What’s your favorite John Wayne film?”) and it was Claire who so adeptly diverted attention so he might collect himself, even as he wracked his brain to recall where he had heard the name of Mr. Wayne before.
Still, Claire had her duties, and a festive night shared among good folk (for whom he had genuine affection) certainly outweighed the other available option: being obliged to bide by the door all evening, passing out sweeties to any costumed child that cared to ring the bell. Would that strangers had been so generous when I was wandering Boston looking for Claire. Baffling, the lot of them, these Americans.
“Whoops, I’m sorry, mister, I don’t have enough change,” the boy said apologetically. “Can you hold on a minute while I run inside?”
“Aye, dinna fash, lad.”
The boy blinked and made a face of incomprehension. “Dinner what?” Then, realizing how rude he sounded, he raised his hand, looking distraught and about to start babbling.
“I only said,” Jamie interjected, “‘Take your time.’”
He said it patiently, wanting to be kind, but as soon as the boy was out of sight, Jamie closed his eyes and felt himself sighing, wearily practicing the proper phrases in his mind for the next such time. ‘No problem, man.’ ‘Don’t worry about it, Sport.’ Flatter “R”s. Shove sound to the back of the tongue. Quieter. Less.
“We c’n go-to play th’game, too, Da?” Brianna asked suddenly in Gaelic.
“Game?” He blinked his eyes open and studied her face, looking up from his lap excitedly. “What game d’ye wish to—”?
But then he, too, heard the voices drifting across the lot.
“Oh, definitely: Dan’s crew don’t have a chance.”
“I don’t know, they’ve been training hard—and they’re giving Michael and the boys a run for their money, so far!”
He craned his neck out the window. They were men of about his own age or a little older, their arms loaded with sweeties and Soda Pop bottles from the wee store. And they were speaking GAELIC.
Irish, from the sound of it, the Gaeilge; but the cadence and syllables were so like his own mother tongue that he actually was gasping from the rush of shock and euphoria.
He was just about to call after them, but at that moment, the young attendant reappeared. Jamie hastily completed the transaction, tipping a bit too heavily as he watched the men out of the corner of his eye, feeling a pang of dismay as they disappeared down over the hill beside the filling station. Jamie thought he could hear the sounds of a small crowd not far off.
“Beg your pardon,” Jamie blurted, as the attendant was walking away. “What’s going on over the hill, there?”
“Just a bunch of Irish playing—it’s kind of like football, but with sticks and they’re loud as all get out!” he laughed confidentially.
“Game, Da!” Bree whispered in Gaelic.
“They’re harmless, though, I promise,” the boy said hastily, leaving Jamie to wonder what exactly might be feared from a bunch of Irishmen. The boy blanched. “Oh but you’re–you’re Irish youself. I didn’t mean any–” He didn’t bother to correct the boy as to his heritage, simply thanked him once more and sent him on his way.
He checked his Watch, and finding that they were still ahead of schedule, he set Bree on the seat next to him, saying in Gaelic, “Aye, a leannan, let’s DO go see the game.”
It was a group of about thirty men on the field, playing a fast-paced game that Jamie wagered was very close indeed to shinty. The players’ wives and families (and a fair number more, it seemed) were congregated on the sidelines, tending wee coal-grills, drinking, chatting, and calling after the swarms of children running about hither and thither. And all of it was in Gaelic. Jamie wanted to cry, just hearing and seeing this slice of something so like home, the drink-fueled joy of a Gathering, something he hadn’t experienced in many, many years. He could feel the warmth of it all surrounding him with every step he took closer, like the arms of a long-lost friend slowly coming around him.
As he and Bree drew within a few dozen yards, a whistle sounded and the match broke. The players jogged to their wives and comrades to drink and chat. One man on the nearest edge of the crowd, dark-haired and wiry, caught sight of Jamie and did a double-take, turning sharply to face him in the first pink rays of nearing-sunset. “Can I help you?” he called in English, strongly accented; not unkindly, but definitely on guard.
Jamie called back a greeting in as close to Gaeilge as he could recall, though he wasn’t at all confident in his pronunciation.
It must have been close enough, though, for the man’s face brightened at once. “HEY, NOW!” he roared, walking forward with his arms raised in welcome. “A new kinsman! What county?”
“County *Scotland,* I’m afraid,” Jamie replied, slipping into the Gàidhlig
without thinking as he returned the man’s warm handshake. “James Fraser, and my daughter Brianna. Do forgive me for intruding; it’s only that it’s been so verra long since I heard anything like my own tongue. I just couldna resist seeing what was what.”
“And we’re glad you did! It’s grand to get to meet a new cousin from the old places.”
The Irish tongue did have its differences, certainly, but Michael Riley seemed to have no trouble understanding Jamie, nor he, him, with only the occasional What was that word? or confidential laugh over differences in emphasis or tone.
Bree had been staring at Michael intently, apparently astonished at hearing Gaelic spoken at close range by someone other than her Da. When Jamie nudged her, she gave a tiny, startled ‘Hi’ in English, then grinned and buried her face in his shoulder, making both men laugh.
“D’ye live in these parts yourself, Fraser?” Michael asked eagerly.
“Not far, but no—I was just stopping for Gasoline on my way out to the countryside. Do all of ye live nearby, then?” Jamie asked, astonished, surveying the huge, lively crowd of players and onlookers.
“Sure do—the station owner turns a blind eye to us using the field, thank the saints, else we’d all likely be arrested.”
“Arrested? For playing a wee game?”
“Well, technically, it *could* be considered trespassing—have a drink?” Jamie politely refused and Michael shrugged, wiping his sweaty brow and taking a deep swig from his own bottle. “There’s a long history of bad blood between Irish and the other folk in Boston. I’m sure there’s plenty of arseholes that would love to see us get comeuppance for whichever dumb mick offended great-great-uncle so and so.”
Perhaps that went some way toward explaining the odd looks Jamie tended to get when speaking to strangers about Boston. He’d always tacitly assumed something in his manner was out of place in some indeterminate way—some eighteenth-century way, that is—but perhaps it was that he was being assumed Irish in a place where that wasn’t altogether a pretty thing to be. He would have to ask Claire.
Christ, he chuckled to himself, an Outlander thrice over, he was, in Boston. At least he wasn’t the only one.
Michael introduced him to the members of his team, one and all bringing Jamie and Bree further into the crowd, offering drinks, and asking about their history and family. He felt as if he’d walked into a clan gathering, even after only ten minutes among the Irish. “And what about you, then?” he asked of Michael, after giving his (presumed) backstory for the half-dozenth time, “From whence in Ireland do you folk hail?”
“Well, we’re mostly Corkmen here—” Michael said, which elicited cheers from the Cork contingent. “Some like me, born here stateside, but plenty of folk fresh off the boat, like Barny, there, except he’s from Tipperary. Then there’s Fergal whose folk are from Sligo,” he said, scanning the crowd and methodically cataloging. “Then Vance and Peter and the other Michael, of Galway. And then over there, there’s Charlie, but he’s not—OY!” He gave a sudden whoop of excitement and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, “EY, CHARLIE!! COME OVER HERE!! FOUND YE A WEE CLANSMAN!!”
A stocky blonde man jogged over eagerly and Michael clapped him on the shoulder. “Charlie, here, plays for those bastards on Dan’s team, but we won’t hold it against him just at present.Charlie, this is James—James, right? Aye, good—James Fraser. He’s from your precious highlands!”
Charlie was an open, eager sort, ruddy-faced and jovial, quick with a joke and an easy word. Jamie quickly learned from rapid conversation in the
Gàidhlig that the man was a Highlander-born, a MacAlister whose family had come to America when he was nearly sixteen. He’d hated the new place, and had planned to return to Scotland the moment as he was of age; but then war had broken out just days before his eighteenth birthday, and he’d been compelled to go fight. He worked as a builder, now, feeding the demand for suburban homes from families in the growing prosperity of the post-war times. Jamie decided he truly liked the man, and knew without asking that he must have children himself, when he grinned at Bree and said, “And hello there, a leannan,” with a little bow.
“Hi, how-wer you?” she responded, to Jamie’s astonishment, in almost-perfect
“I’m verra well, thank ye verra much for asking, sweet lass,” the blonde man laughed, straightening and looking impressed. “Does she speak it at home, then?”
“No, not often,” Jamie said, rather apologetically. “I do try to speak it around her when I think of it, but her mam is English, so we—”
“American, you mean?”
“Nay,” Jamie laughed, with a mock-sneer, “an honest-to-goodness Sassenach.”
Charlie matched Jamie’s manner with groan of false-disgust. “Christ, but ye must have balls of steel, Jamie, to —
oh!” he said abruptly, looking a bit embarrassed, “Sorry—is it alright that I call ye Jamie?”
Jamie could feel the warmth of kinship flood through him like water. “Of *course,* friend,” he said with feeling.
Charlie introduced his Irish wife Saoirse and their two small boys, to whom Bree took at once, sharing their toys on the grass.
They talked about Scotland, about America, about Boston. About Gaelic. About talk of a free and independent Scotland. About the Celtic traditions that had crossed the ocean, and those that had not. Of gatherings that apparently took place all around the country, in hill-and-mountain places, for folk to remember the old clan ways, even if in naught but a faint imitation. Even of bannocks, whiskey, and wool; the simple things of highland home, even two hundred years hence, it seemed. It was more a balm to Jamie’s heart than he could comprehend: that the Scotland he knew hadn’t vanished entirely.
A whistle blew and Charlie brandished his stick deftly as the crowd began to shift. “Ever played a game of hurling?”
“It’s like shinty, no?”
“Not too far off, not at all. Here,” he said, beginning to walk backward toward the pitch, “come wi’ me and I’ll give ye the rundown.”
With a jolt, Jamie noted the position of the sun and remembered the ice in the back of the Car. “Sadly, we must be going, Charlie.”
“Oh, come on!” Charlie wheedled, taking one last deep swig of beer and kissing Saoirse exuberantly. “Wee Brianna seems to be having a fine time wi’ Nolan and Will. And I’ve got some extra gear if —”
“it isna that at all,” Jamie said, turning an apologetic smile toward his new companion, “it’s only that we’ve got a Halloween gathering to attend, and we’re expected shortly.”
“Och, that’s too bad. First one since you arrived? Weel, it isna nearly so ghostly as Samhain, let me tell ye. All the spooks you’re like to encounter look as if they came out from a children’s book or a Walt Disney film. I tell wee Nolan when he’s scairt in the night that all the ghosts are back in Scotland. No doorways to the otherworlds in America, so no Old Folk to be afraid of.“
(Oh, aye? Ye have one right in front of ye, man.)
Charlie held out the stick once more, inviting. "Sure ye canna be persuaded to celebrate wi’ us instead, Jamie?”
“I truly canna stay, but thank ye, Charlie, I should verra much have liked to.” Jamie knelt to break up the play-circle. “Can ye say ‘farewell’ to your new friends, Bree?”
“Farewell,” she chirped, waving her chubby hand enthusiastically.
“That’s not’th’right way,” chided Nolan, who was a year or two older. “You say it funny.”
Bree looked crestfallen, but Charlie ruffled his son’s hair, laughing as he gently scolded. “Nay, a chuisle, you’ve just grown up wi’ Gaeilge—YOU’RE the one who ‘says it funny.’”
Jamie scooped Bree into his arms, whispering in her ear about how proud he was of her before turning back to Charlie. “Do ye play every week, then?I’d truly be honored to come back another time.”
“Oh aye. The winter snows will start falling soon, but we’re here most every chance we can get, when the ground’s clear.” Charlie sized him up frankly, nodding with approval. “You’re a braw-looking fucker, alright. Dinna let Michael steal ye for his lousy crew, aye? They’re naught but loud bastards. The *real* talent’s wi’ us.”
Jamie made a general farewell to the crowd and received a hearty chorus of well-wishes and toasts in return.
“At the risk of seeming too eager, Jamie…” He turned to see that Charlie was looking sheepish, “might the wife and I have ye and the family over for dinner, sometime?”
When Jamie didn’t immediately respond, the man shrugged, but didn’t falter. “Mebbe it’s daft, but as much as I love my Irish folk, it’s grand having someone to talk to in the old ways again; who’s truly my countryman. D’ye ken what I mean?”
Jamie swallowed down the lump in his throat as he clasped the man’s hand. “Aye, a caraidh, I ken it more than ye can possibly know.”
okay i know it Doesn’t Actually Work Like That, but i love the fact that the Blue Eyes White Dragon and the Dark Magician are referred to as natural enemies by shadi (and I think others too).
because, before the Egyptian mythology of yugioh was really fleshed out, this is pretty easy to buy. Atem and Seto are adversaries. dragons and wizards are common fixtures in fantasy and often pitted against each other in stories. okay, cool. but then there’s the revelation that monsters, ESPECIALLY those two, are tied to human souls. and it just makes me laugh because I’m like 99.8% certain Mahad and Kisara never ONCE met each other but their souls are apparently ready to throw down on sight, any time of day, no questions asked, because their respective loved ones are engaged in an eternal pissing contest
So I was showing my best friend my new icon, and his response was, “You know who he looks like?” and I was like, “NO, WHO??” and he was like, “I’ll give you a minute…” so I stared at the photo, having no clue who he meant, and I glance over at his phone to see that he’s pulled up pics of MARVIN MARTIAN I’m fucking DEAD
THE WAY HE GAVE ME A MINUTE AS IF I WOULD DEFINITELY GUESS IT
AND THE PROBLEM IS THAT HE’S NOT ENTIRELY WRONG IT JUST GETS WORSE
Request:@an-enigmatic-avenger“Hiya! Could I have a prompt with 3 and 6 with a polyamorous triad of Jughead, Archie and Reader? Thank you!!”
Prompts: #3 “Oh, love, I don’t think you understand the meaning of sarcasm.” #6 “You’re the only one for me.”
A/N: hope I did poly relationships justice! I’m not poly, so obviously I don’t have experience in this. If it offends you or is misinformed, please message me and I’ll change or, if it’s super offensive and unsalvageable, delete it!
Characters - Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Tesla and Steve as well as a few others
Word Count - 2116
Warnings - Fluff? Bucky being the cutest, Almost smut, Language
A/N - HOOBOY. That’s all I’m gonna say. Please dont hesitant to tell me what you think! This is an AU. 缘分 (Yuanfen) is a Chinese word that has no direct English translation and (roughly) means “A relationship that is brought together by a force such as destiny or fate.“
8:50. Avery glances at the bill and goes down to his car to
retrieve his conveniently forgotten wallet.
8:59. Malfoy goes down to see what’s keeping him.
9:29. Nott slips out to answer an important call.
9:44. Mulciber dons his coat to take a piss.
9:51. Severus excuses himself for a quick fag, and Lily is
left sitting alone at their table with a growing sense of suspicion.
9:53. Lily finally convinces herself to look at the bill,
and her stomach drops to her knees.
11:41. “Ma’am?” the waitress asks, and Lily was sure she’d
seen the worst of the girl’s frown, but she was wrong.
“A-another glass, please,” she mumbles, and the waitress’
eye roll and impatient huff says it all. There are eight or nine completely
full glasses in a little grove in front of her already, and she doesn’t exactly have a plan of action, but at
least this is buying her more time.
herself more time, with money she doesn’t have.
“Of course,” the waitress spits, and sweeps away.
This close to midnight, Lily’s fairly confident they’d like
to shut up shop shortly. She tears her eyes away from the frankly excessive
amount of wine sitting full in front her, and glances around the previously
bustling dining hall. She almost, almost
pegs herself as the last diner, but there’s a man about her age on the other
side of the room. He has a dozen or so desserts scattered around him, each as
untouched as every one of her wine glasses. He gives her a tight smile as they
make eye contact, and turns back to his food, pensive. Lily does the same.
Jay lifted his eyes off the music sheet he had been writing
notes on and looked up at you, sitting on the floor with your legs crossed.
Considering the volume of your voice, he knew you were probably just talking to
yourself, and he felt bad. You’d been here for over an hour after coming from
work, waiting for him to finish rehearsing for tomorrow’s performance so you
two could go home.
You clicked your tongue and pressed your thumb on the screen
of your phone.
“Who’s cute?” He asked, tipping his head to the right to
catch your attention.
“Her,” you replied without looking at him, as if he was
seeing the same thing you were seeing. “She’s tough, I’m telling you.”
“So… she’s cute and tough?”
He put his pen to weigh down the sheet. Something in the way
you spoke and how your brows knotted made him really, really curious.
can we have a scenario where Izuku just ACCIDENTALLY brought up the bullying case to Katsuki while they are fighting (bc my bby cinammon roll is in too much hurt cause bakacchan kept shouting at him)
They’re at it again.
And they’re yelling over something stupid. They can’t even remember how it started, or who said what first, but they can’t stop. They won’t stop, because that’s how their arguments always go.
Katsuki is wrong. Izuku is also wrong. They’re both in the wrong, but they keep yelling, because until they’re sick and tired, and can’t look at each other anymore, they won’t stop.
Katsuki is closing the space between him and Izuku then, as he raises his voice louder. “ …And you act like its not a fucking problem! ”
Because it isn’t, really.
“Why should I?? It’s not anything you need to be worried about! Why are you getting so angry??” Izuku presses his brows together and he inches himself toward the other. Their faces are close, they can feel the tense air between them as they glare into each other’s eyes.
Breaths heaving in annoyance and distress, they continue to stare each other down. Katsuki being unable to hold his anger well, opens his mouth again.
“Are you dumb, Deku?? Are you seriously askin why I’m angry? ”
And he reaches a hand out– he grabs onto Izuku’s wrist, and he regrets it right away, when he sees the sudden horror that forms in the latter’s green eyes. Because thats fear written on his face.
No, he doesn’t want to scare Izuku. Even if he did take his wrist, it wasn’t going to be to hurt him.
It isn’t bad intentions at all. He just wants to hold onto Izuku– Hold onto him tightly so he can’t run away. So they can argue their way through this dumb misunderstanding and pretend like it never happened, or laugh about it later.
“S..stop Kacchan!” Izuku snatches his wrist back and moves a few steps back.
“Why are you acting this way- what were you going to do? Knock some sense into me like before?”
Then his mouth shuts instantly, and its his turn to feel regret. He swallows hard and suddenly his anger is gone. It dissipates faster than the blink of an eye, because Katsuki is just staring at him. There’s a hint of saddness and something close to realization painted all over his face. “K-Kacchan I didn’t mean-”
“So you think I’d do that? ” Katsuki isn’t yelling anymore. Just speaking softly, more to himself than his boyfriend. “You really think I’d throw a punch at your fuckin face..?”
“No. Kacchan, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to say that.” Izuku’s voice is pleading, and it only becomes more weary when he sees tears beginning to wet Katsuki’s cheeks. “Kacchan, please-”
“I see. Okay. Whatever.”
Izuku is begging him more, hoping he can erase what he just said, but Katsuki is ignoring him, brushing him off while he puts his shoes on.
Then he leaves.
And Izuku is sitting alone in the house now, going through the argument that just happened, in his head. Why did it start? How did it escalate this far? Why would he say something like that?
Because he knows Katsuki. He loves Katsuki. He trusts him. So why did he draw back in fear? And why did he bring up the past?
Izuku hates himself more than anything right now.. he doesn’t know what to do but wait for Katsuki to come back. He has to eventually, doesn’t he? They live together. They argue all the time. Its just what goes with clashing peronalities, doesnt it? So Katsuki will come back. And Izuku will mend things.
But he doesn’t come back. Not until at least 4 am, anyway. Izuku had made his bed on the sofa, waiting for his significant other to return.
When Katsuki walks through the front door he looks at Izuku before going straight to the bedroom. He’s tired, hes stressed, he’s cried all self hatred and anger out, so he’s ready to talk to Izuku when he wakes. Of course, it occurs faster than he thought.
The sound of the open and close of the doors in the house stir Izuku enough to wake him. And he sits up rather quickly, searching in the darkness for the familiar face.
His voice is soft, when he enters the room, and Katsuki lifts his gaze from his hands to the other. Izuku keeps his distance, while he watches. “..Kacchan..I’m really–”
“Deku. I’ve thought things through.”
There’s silence between them. Its only a few moments, but to Izuku it feels like an eternity. “..We should break up. ”
Suddenly everything is going blurry. Izuku blinks his eyes once, trying to clear his vision–blinks again, because its still all a blur. When he blinks a third time, thats when he feels the hot tears start spilling down his cheeks and he realizes that he’s crying.
Katsuki is avoiding eye contact as he speaks. “Clearly we don’t trust each other as much as we thought. I don’t blame you. I hurt you so fuckin bad before. I thought you were crazy for even wanting to date me. I thought things could really work between us.. But you made it kinda obvious today that there’s still distrust and uncertainty. So.. yeah. We should just end it now. There’s others that’re more deserving of you. Todoroki likes you. Mirio does. Iida, might. You got an endless list really. So do you really need me?”
There’s more silence. Katsuki is rubbing at his neck slowly, keeping on his ‘cool’ act. Though he can only manage to keep it up as long as he looks anywhere but at the one before him.
“No.. No, Kacchan, please..” Izuku says between sobs. His hands are up against his face, so his words are coming out muffled. “I don’t want you to leave-I don’t want to leave you! I’m sorry for what I said, I don’t know what made me say it!” He coughs a bit, before continuing. “I love you. I trust you- I didn’t mean to hurt you.. when we argue, sometimes I can’t help but remember back then. And it isn’t because I don’t trust you, its just out of habit.. and when I said what I did.. It was stupid. I’m stupid!” He shakes his head pulls his hands away from his face, finally looking at Katsuki. “Im so sorry.. I’m an idiot..”
Katsuki is watching him now. And he’d be a huge liar if he said it didn’t hurt to see Izuku crying like that. He can’t help but think he’s taking things too far, but despite Izuku apologizing now, he had to have meant what he said. He doesn’t have the trust Katsuki thought he did. He’s afraid that Katsuki will hurt him. He thinks Katsuki will turn back to what he was.
“..Sorry, Deku.” He says. “..I just think it’d be better to stay apart.”
He leaves it at that.
Izuku continues trying to talk to him–trying to make things right. He has to fix what he broke, because surely this isnt going to be their last fight. Katsuki is only saying this because he’s upset. They’re going to fix it– Izuku is going to fix it.
But days start to pass, and they don’t see each other.
Katsuki took majority of his things and left. He’s staying with Kirishima, and despite Izuku’s efforts to talk to him, there’s no luck.
There’s not a moment when Izuku isn’t thinking about Katsuki, and vice versa.
Izuku is starting to lose hope, starting to think that its really over.
He’s sitting on his own in the living room one evening, when he hears a knock on the door. He stands himself up, expecting Ochako to be there because he had invited her over for a bit. ( Anything to help get his mind off things.)
But when he opens that door and looks,it isn’t her.
Izuku’s eyes widen slightly, tears starting to fill them.
Katsuki is standing there, bag slinging over his shoulder. He’s looking down at the ground, trying to figure out what words to say.
“Deku.” He adjusts his stance, before glancing up finally. “…Deku, I’m sorry.. I was being a bastard by ignoring you. I love you … do you wanna take me back?”
Izuku isn’t wasting another moment before his arms are thrown around the other. He’s letting out a sob, as he buries his face into Katsuki’s chest.
“D-don’t apologize- its all my fault! I hurt you and I’m the one who should be sorry–”
“Shh..” Katsuki lifts a hand up and sets it into the curly green locks, stroking them gently. “We both were wrong.. and.. After takin time to think about it, I realized if you’re still feelin afraid it isn’t your fault.. you’re doin your best. And that just means.. I gotta try harder too. We’re gonna get better.”
Izuku nods, sniffling. A small smile forms on his lips and his voice is muffled.
“Okay, Kacchan.. okay… I love you. I’m sorry..”
“Me too.. I’m sorry and I love you too.” Then he kisses the top of his head.
Summary :You die while being on a mission with the team. At least , that’s what you thought. What happens when you suddenly wake up alive ? What do you do now? & how will the team handle the news after thinking you’ve been dead for months?
Warnings : swearing, angst, violence , fluff( tiny, tiny bit for now).
Pairing, (so far) : Avengers x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader( No permanent pairing yet!) * Bold is readers thoughts, & italics are memories. *
“ Is now really the time Steve? Cant you scold me later?”
Do they ever stop fucking arguing? Ugh. Your eyes flutter open as they continue bickering.
“ Can you two shut the hell up .” your raspy voice startles the two , they both immediately appear at your side.
" What happened?“ you groan as you look around and realize your in the med bay .
” Your blood pressure and stress levels were extremely high , causing you to faint. “ Tony explains as he looks to your monitor to check your vitals.
” Everything looks good now though . “ he shrugs .
” I don’t want an enhancement Tony. Figure out a way to turn it back . “ your request catches both of the men off guard.
” Wh- what? Why? You don’t even know what it is yet! You could shoot fire, or read minds! YOU COULD BE A SHAPE SHIF-“
” I don’t care ! You know what I want to be? A lab Tech Tony. A regular lab tech . “ you snap
” If I even could find a way to reverse it, it run the risk of furthering the enhancement, or counter acting TAHITI. It’s too large of a risk Y/n. I’m sorry . “
You stay silent, processing what Tony tells you . So he knew there was a chance I wouldn’t want this. I cant believe he knew this entire time I was alive. Fucking Stark.
While you are lost in your thoughts Tony dismisses himself, leaving only you and Steve.
He sighs, watching as you hop off the bed ,taking out the IV and removing the vital receivers . He steps in front of you before you can reach the door.
” No. We are talking about this . You aren’t running.“ he says sternly. You roll your eyes, waiting for him to continue.
” I- the things I said-“ he groans, rubbing at the back of his neck as he continues ” What I said the other night came out wrong . I am grateful you saved me, but I’m not going to thank you for getting yourself killed. You are a part of this team, I was wrong to say you weren’t. You weren’t enhanced though Y/n; you didn’t have a serum, you aren’t a trained assassin . What did you expect the bullets to do ? Did you think you’d heal as quickly as I would? “ His tone wasn’t harsh , it was almost pleading.
” I didn’t think anything Steve, all I knew was that I needed to save you . I don’t know wh-“
” Was it because you love me?“
The room goes dead silent, his words still hanging in the air. You awkwardly laugh , Steve crosses his arms while leaning in the doorway.
” You do remember saying that right ? “ he questions, he sees panic flash over your face.
” Steve- I- you- I was dieing. “ you run your hand down your face .
” I’m aware.“ he says playfully. You’re amazed at how his mood shifts .
" Don’t look too much into It.”
“ So you’re denying it?” he playful smile drops a bit.
“ What do you want me to say Steve! You were my bestfriend! Of course I loved you!”
“ You know that’s not what I mean Y/n.”
You don’t reply, so Steve keeps speaking,
“ Because I love you .”
Your eyes go wide, your mouth opens then closes when you realize you don’t know what to even say . Did he just- did he mean it like that? You’ve waited for what seems like a lifetime to hear him say these words to you .Now that the moments here, your speechless.
Luck seems to be on your side at this moment, FRIDAY interrupts the two of you .
“ Captain Rogers, there seems to be a physical conflict between Sergeant Barnes and Mr.Wilson, your presence is needed on the communal floor. ”
Saved by the AI, thank you FRIDAY.
You hear Steve curse under his breath ,
“ You should probably go before one of them ends up dead Steve. "
” We aren’t finished with this conversation.“ he warns as he leaves.
You wait a minute before you bolt from the med room to the elevators. You rapidly hit the button for Pietro and Wandas floor . As soon as the doors open you sprint out,
” Pietro ! “ you yell , in an instant he is infront of you .
” are you feeling better Draga?“ he asks as he pulls you into a hug.
” Steve- I - what - UGH .“ you groan as your shove your face into his chest.
” You’re going to have to form a proper sentence for me to understand Y/n.“ he chuckles.
” She doesn’t want to be enhanced, Steve told her he loves her , and she doesn’t know what to do and plans on avoiding him for the rest of time.“ Wanda announces from behind you .
” What she said. “ you say as you lean back.
” You didn’t tell him how you felt ? “ Pietro questions.
” He completely blind sided me! I didn’t think hed say that ! I stood there staring at him like he was a frreakin alien!“
The twins laugh at your frustration ,
” Its not funny! what am I suppose to do !“
” Tell him you love him ! “ Wanda excitedly suggests
” I - no . I’m not doing that . “
” What ? why? You know he feels the same! “ Pietro tells you .
” I just got him back, I just got everyone back ! and now apparently I’m enhanced? I just - I don’t know what kind of enhancement I have, or even when itll appear. What if its dangerous? What if I hurt him ? I don’t think I need a relationship right now on top of re adjusting to everything. Ya know? “
They agree with you after you explain yourself. Pietro suggest watching a movie to take your mind off things . Wanda declines, saying she has training with Natasha . Once she leaves, you and Pietro settle on the couch to scroll through Netflix. You both settle on starting Parks & Rec from the beginning . Halfway into the second episode you find yourself leaning against Pietro , both of you getting sleepier by the second.
When you wake up, you snuggled up to Pietro on the couch . Soft snores are slipping from him . You smile as you try to hold in a laugh when you notice the drool pooling in the corner of his mouth .
” PIETRO!“ you shout
He jumps up from the couch , which results in you landing on the floor with a grunt.
” What! Whats wrong!?“
You start hysterically giggling at his disheveled state. He sends you a bitchface when he realizes what you did .
” You are in trouble now Printessa.“ he threatens as he stalks towards you . You try to stand but hes on top of you in a flash . His fingers are tickling your sides making you shriek .
” Pietro Stooooppp! Please! “ you beg . He pauses his attack,
” Apologize. “
” I’m sorry you drool in your sleep. “ you sass. You cry out when his fingers begin brutally tickling you again .
Someone clears their throat, stopping Pietro’s fingers at the sound.
” I see you’re busy , I didn’t meant to interrupt.“ Steve says , anger lacing through his voice. Oh Shit. You know how this must look, especially to someone who just admitted their feelings to you .
You knock Pietro off you so you can go after Steve. Right as you approach the elevators the doors begin closing . You see Steves face, his eyebrows are scrunched, a mixture of hurt and anger displayed over his features. He watches you as the doors close, not moving to stop them .
Anonymous: Hi! Could you do a scenario with Jaehyun you too are talking and laughing at something and you accidentally say ’ I love you’ and you two sit there shook and you get flustered and embarassed bc you thought that he would say that first or it would happen like very romantically
A/N: I’m so sorry this was so delayed, here you go! Enjoy!
Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader
김이지 (꽃잠프로젝트) - 흩어져
As you walked, your heels clicking against the pavement and the bright rays of the sun kissing your skin, he became closer. He stood there leaning against the tree and scrolling through his phone. He looked ethereal from where you were. His dark hair falling over his forehead and his dark eyes scanning the screen of his phone. He was so unaware of his glistening beauty that he so effortlessly resonated. You saw other girls stealing a look at him and then blushing and walking ahead. That annoyed you. How he arrested other people’s attention without even realising. You felt threatened that what you called yours might not be yours anymore.
He looked up and smiled cheerily at you and enclosed you in a warm hug. His shirt smelled like soap. You snuggled into his chest wanting his embrace to last forever and he didn’t mind as he stroked your hair and planted a gentle kiss on top of your forehead. The fragrance of newly blossomed roses dominated the air as he walked next to you, holding your hand with the familiar firmness.
“Work is getting harder. They’re making us practice even more now since the comeback is so close.” You only ogled at him. His eyes sparkled as he kept on ranting about his work and how he loved it and hated it at the same time. But you zoned out.
Jaehyun and you had been going out for a while now. It seemed normal to you that you now had a boyfriend and that you wouldn’t be alone at parties. But today was different. It was as if you were being pulled. When you got his text message early in the morning, about him wanting to hang out, you jumped out of your bed and started dolling yourself up; trying on several outfits to select the perfect one. You wanted to impress him, you wanted to be close to him, you missed him.
He detached his fingers from yours and flung his arm over your shoulder, smiling cheekily as he talked. “You’ve been very quiet today,” he said.
“Yea I’m just hungry,” you replied, obviously lying. Would you tell him the truth? That he made your heart hurt and your mind swell and that he was suddenly becoming the reason why you would wake up and his musky fragrance is the only thing you want to inhale for the rest of your life? No, you wouldn’t.
“Well you should’ve said it earlier.” He chuckled as he changed paths. “Look, that diner is amazing. You’ll fall in love.” He was getting excited. Of course Jaehyun would get excited over the idea of food.
“I think I already have,” you mumbled quietly so he wouldn’t hear you. He swung open the door and waved a polite hello to the cashier and forwarded to find the nearest seat. He wore a flannel button down and black skinny jeans and his hair was in a beautiful mess from the wind outside. You reached out and tried to fix his dishevelled hair. He looked up at you and smiled and you swear you heard a crack somewhere inside your body. His gaze was unwavering as you fixed the messy strands of his dark hair. His smile slowly disappeared and turned into something else. As if he were in a deep thought. You halted your movements and just stared at him. He was much more beautiful up close. How did you get so lucky to have him?
You inched back from the table and sat on the soft chair, a little embarrassed by the moment. He smiled to himself and reached for the menu, clearing his throat and trying to concentrate.
After the heavy atmosphere, formulated by you both, lifted a little, he began another of his conversations about the boys. “Oh my god and then Johnny fell back on his head and we all died laughing,” he said as he showed you the video. You both indulged in a hearty laugh before the words spilled out of your mouth. The words you were pressing inside. But they made its way onto your lips.
“I love you,” you said. His smile disappeared as he just stared at you. You internally stabbed yourself. You cheeks turned a warm shade of red as you looked away, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I’m sorry,” you stuttered, wanting to cry.
“Y/N,” he said softly and extended his arms to hold your hands. He encased them in his palms and looked at you. “Please look at me. You shook your head, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Please?” He pleaded. You gave in and looked up. He smiled at your state, your afraid eyes and your cherry red cheeks. “I love you too.” He said. You heart started beating again with relief, a flood of happiness washed over you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. I wanted to confess to you a long time ago but I wasn’t sure if you…if you liked me too.”
“We’re dating Jaehyun, of course I like you.” He looked at you, dumbfounded.
“Yea but like, dating is like playing around. You never know what the other person is feeling they validate it you know?”
“You’re making no sense.” He laughed and shook his head and then turned to look at you fondly.
“We aren’t playing around just to let you know,” He said solemly. You looked away, smiling. The sky was beginning to darken outside as the subtle city lights blinked from the window. It was all really prepossessing but the person sitting in front of you was more.
Deadlift competition: Who can lift more out of the younger/older gen of Beacon students? (Asked by anon)
Nora, with a strike of confusion:
Um...no it's me?
Would you both shut up? God, you're tied. Accept it.
Yang, slamming her hands together with Nora's interlocking their fingers in a push-battle contest:
Nora, pushing back against Yang with a grin:
I'll walk out of this undamaged, can you say the same?
Blake, rolls her eyes and returns to her book:
Ugh, whatever I tried.
Yatsuhashi, bowing respectfully:
While I understand why you would come to me first.
Yatsuhashi, scratching his head in awkward embarrassment:
It is actually Coco who would hold that title.
Coco, glancing up from a grumpy stare at her coffee:
Huh? Oh yeah my rotary cannon is heavier than Yatsu's sword by a long shot. It also retains all its mass when in the bag form. Because physics obviously. It's just less bulky so easier to move around quickly.
Coco, returning to her grumpy stare:
They didn't put enough sugar in this...
Velvet, rolls her eyes, mouthing the words 'Oh here it comes', then turns to her team leader:
What's the problem Coco?
Coco, with a dumb smirk, putting an overly confident arm around Velvet:
This coffee needs more sugar, how about you give me some babes?
Fox, slowly turns his head to Yatsu, then signs:
I'm blind. But this image still makes me sick.
Yatsu, trying not to laugh:
F...Fox that is...rude.