#(​I dunno you guys let me know—fill me in on how to tag this I’m very much uninformed lmfao)

[hplonesomeart]

Yeah yeah sound off in the reblogs or whatever. The yaoi has come full force and is here to say for the foreseeable future of this fandom. What has been done cannot be undone or stopped. Either get swept up with the tide or drown whilst trying to evade it ya shipping sailors <<

[inseobts]

could I please get a Luffy x Fem reader where the reader has a really big crush on Luffy and she’s always embarrassing herself in front of him in attempts to flirt with him but he doesn’t take the hint and Nami or Robin or even both notice her failed attempts and try to attempt to get Luffy to understand how she’s basically trying to show that she has feelings for him, or something like that. I feel like it would be super cute! You can make it as embarrassing as you want lol! Thank you!!

Clueless Captain, Hopeless Crush

luffy x fem!reader

a/n: this was so cute byeeeeeeeee

words count: 1.1k

tags: fluffy, sfw, humour, embrassing reader

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Sunny sways gently over the waves, the sun high in the sky as the Straw Hats enjoy a peaceful afternoon. You, however, are suffering as always.

“Okay, okay, just go up to him and say something flirty. You’ve got this” you mumble to yourself, hyping yourself up as you pace back and forth on the deck. Nami and Robin watch from nearby, sipping their drinks, clearly entertained by your struggle.

“Seems like she’s going to embarrass herself again” Nami mutters, smirking.

“Of course” Robin replies, amused.

Taking a deep breath, you march up to Luffy, who’s sitting cross-legged, munching on a piece of meat. He looks up at you, chewing loudly.

“Hey, Luffy~” you purr... well, attempt to. It comes out as more of a wheeze because you’re so nervous. You clear your throat and try again, resting your elbow on the railing in what you think is a cool, flirty pose “You know… if you ever need someone to keep you warm at night… my arms are always open.”

Luffy blinks “Huh? But I already have a blanket.”

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“I—I mean, like, if you ever get lonely—”

“I’m not lonely. I have you guys!” he grins “And meat!”

Nami actually facepalms while Robin chuckles softly behind her hand.

You force out a nervous laugh “Hahah, right! Meat! Can’t compete with that!” You take a step back, only to trip over your own feet and fall straight onto your back.

“Whoa! You okay?” Luffy leans over, his face suddenly close to yours, eyes filled with innocent concern.

For a second, you just stare at him, heart hammering “Y-Yeah” you squeak, scrambling up so fast you almost fall again “See ya!” You bolt away, hiding behind Nami and Robin.

Nami lets out a long sigh “That was painful to watch.”

Robin sips her tea “At this point, you should just spell it out for him.”

“But he’s so dense! I’d have better luck flirting with the mast” you groan.

Robin hums thoughtfully “Perhaps, a more direct approach is needed.”

A few days later, the crew is having dinner, and you’re seated next to Luffy. It’s the perfect chance to try again. Nami and Robin give you knowing looks, silently cheering you on.

You take a deep breath and turn to Luffy “Hey, Luffy… have you ever thought about, you know, kissing someone?”

Luffy, mid-bite, stops chewing “Kissing? Like when Sanji tries with those girls he always gets punched by?”

You laugh nervously “Uh, kinda! But, like… what if someone you like wanted to kiss you?”

Luffy tilts his head “Like who?”

Your face burns “I-I don’t know! M-maybe someone right in front of you?”

Luffy looks around “Zoro?”

You choke on your drink. Nami slams her forehead onto the table. Sanji wheezes in the background.

Robin chuckles “Oh dear.”

You grab Luffy’s shoulders desperately “No! Not Zoro! Me!”

Luffy stares at you “You? But why?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking the most dramatic, desperate breath of your life “Because I like you, you big, biiiiig idiot!”

Silence. Then—

“Ohhh!” Luffy’s eyes light up “You mean like-like me!”

You nod rapidly.

Luffy grins “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

You stare at him, mouth open “WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN DOING?!”

Luffy just laughs, rubbing the back of his head “I dunno! You kept falling down and making weird faces, so I thought you were just being funny!”

Nami looks so done. Robin hides a smile.

Luffy suddenly leans closer, his face inches from yours “So, if you like me, does that mean I can kiss you?”

Your brain short-circuits “I—uh—wh—YES?”

Luffy grins wide, then leans in and presses a quick, innocent kiss to your cheek “Cool! I like you too y/n!”

The whole crew erupts into chaos, Sanji screaming dramatically, Usopp nearly falling overboard, and Nami looking ready to throw something at Luffy for not just saying all this earlier.

But you? You just sit there, face on fire, trying not to explode from sheer happiness.

The crew is in absolute chaos.

Sanji is on his knees, gripping the table like he’s in agony “WHY, Y/N?! WHY HIM?!”

You blink, still recovering from the fact that Luffy just kissed your cheek and declared you his girlfriend “Wait… what?”

Sanji points an accusatory finger at you, his face a mix of devastation and betrayal “Out of everyone on this ship, you picked him?! The most clueless, meat-obsessed, reckless idiot to ever live?!”

Luffy, still sitting right next to you, grins “Yep!”

Sanji glares at him “You stay out of this.”

Luffy tilts his head “Why? She’s my girlfriend now!”

You let out an embarrassing squeak.

Sanji dramatically grabs his chest like he’s been stabbed “Girlfriend?! Oh, this is a nightmare! Y/N, my sweet, darling y/n, I’ve been here this whole time! Showering you with compliments, treating you like a queen—”

“You literally do that to every woman...” Usopp interrupts, deadpan.

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” Sanji cries “You were different, Y/N! I thought— I thought we had something special!”

You blink at him “…Sanji, I tripped over myself every time I tried to flirt with Luffy. I was dying over here.”

Luffy nods enthusiastically “Yeah, she kept saying weird stuff and falling down a lot.”

“That’s what flirting looks like?!” Sanji shouts, throwing his hands up “Then what have I been doing this whole time?!”

“Being annoying” Zoro mutters into his drink.

Sanji lunges at him “SHUT UP, MARIMO! THIS ISN���T ABOUT ME, IT’S ABOUT Y/N MAKING A TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICE!”

Luffy snorts “How is it terrible? I think it’s great!” He turns to you with that signature wide grin “Right, y/n?”

Your brain is still struggling to process everything “Uh… y-yeah?”

Sanji groans, dragging his hands down his face “I can’t believe this. I lost to him.”

Robin chuckles “It’s not a competition, Sanji.”

“For her love, it is!” Sanji gestures dramatically at you “I would’ve given you the world, Y/N! Candlelit dinners! Romantic dances! Heartfelt poetry—”

“You can’t even write poetry” Nami points out.

Sanji lets out a loud, pained wail.

Meanwhile, Luffy, completely unbothered by Sanji’s suffering, leans closer to you “Hey, y/n, since we’re dating now, does that mean I get more kisses?”

Your soul leaves your body “I—uh—wha—”

“Like this?” He presses another quick, innocent kiss to your cheek.

You make a noise that’s somewhere between a squeak and a scream.

Sanji grabs his chest like he’s actually about to have a heart attack “LUFFY, STOP CORRUPTING HER WITH YOUR IDIOCY!”

Nami groans “Oh great, now we have two idiots in love.”

Robin just smiles, sipping her tea “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Luffy laughs, completely unaware of the emotional destruction he’s causing you and Sanji “I like you a lot, y/n!”

You can barely think straight. This is it. This is how you die.

And Sanji? He just slams his head onto the table, muttering “I should’ve confessed first.”

But who cares about him? Now you can finally stop embarrassing yourself… or will you?

[strawberryforks]

ignorance isn’t always bliss pt. 2 // not a tim bradford x reader…

warnings: swearing (probably), cheating, drinking, pregnancy? i dunno

a/n: so sorry this part took so long, your girl has had a LETHAL case of writer’s block. a second apology for those who expected the pairing to stay the same—i do not condone cheating and forgiveness is not a virtue i seem to possess in writing. still, hopefully you enjoy! a third and final apology 🙈🙈 (i’m on a roll guys) because this isn’t edited so there might be some mistakes

tagged: @mimisweetz @ivet4 @haleyjamesscott12 @hellishbimbo @capswife

When your dad gave Tim Bradford the day off, you better bet he paid you the same courtesy.

You were given the rest of the day off—the week, had you wanted it. You didn’t want to take time off work but… it was necessary. Sure, you could have endured; dealt with the whispered gossip: “Tim and Y/n are divorcing,” yes, yes you were, the papers were waiting on his desk, sat there by your father, but hearing it spoken aloud? It hurt, especially when no one seemed to know the full story and you weren’t as forthcoming with it as, maybe, you should’ve been.

“Did you hear that L/n assaulted Chen?”

You keep walking, eyes downcast, as you make your way over to your locker. You’re so, so, grateful that your family-name was important enough to you that when you married, you kept it.

Tim could take your heart; take it and tear it to pieces, he could take your friend, your dreams, but the one thing he could not steal from you was your name. That was yours and yours alone.

And never had you been more grateful to not be permanently tied to his - the Bradford name. Something that once, you thought represented integrity, honesty, strength. Something that now represented lies, betrayal, and infidelity.

“You don’t need to leave,” said Sergeant Grey. He knew you well and was one of the few who had heard the full story—watched it build, too. He was there for it all: when you and Tim met, when you… when he… it was all too painful to think about.

You shake your head. Let it fall, your chin tucking to your chest, moisture building in your eyes “I can’t do it, Grey.”

You didn’t take the week off when it was offered.

You quit.

“You shouldn’t have to leave because of something he did to you. Tim can find—“

“It’s not as simple as picking sides in the divorce, Grey, though it’s good to know you’re on mine. It’s a matter of you losing one cop or two. I can’t work with either of them—I won’t do it to myself. Come to the station everyday to see him and wonder why I wasn’t enough. To see her and wonder how little our friendship meant to her… I… I’m sorry but my decision is final.”

“I thought you might say that,” Grey procures an envelope and hands it to you. You tilt your head slightly in confusion, “a letter of recommendation. And I’ll make some calls too, if you still want to stay in LA. Let me know where and… don’t be a stranger. You have mine and Luna’s number. Use them.”

“Yes sir,”

You fill a cardboard box full of your belongings and take them to the car. That’s it, that’s really it, your entire career in the LAPD, all fitting in a box.

It’s as sad as it is poetic - that after all that, everything you had to show for your work and sacrifice could be upended. Moved.

Later that night, you’re sitting on a stool at a local bar. Bright strobe lights land on your back, the bartender in front of you is busy, moving back and forth, tending to dozens of patrons as timely as possible. You startle when John Nolan slides onto the seat next to you—you hadn’t expected to see him here. His eyes are soft, flooded with sympathy and he looks at the two drinks sitting in front of you–one cup full, the other half empty–like they’re a bomb, one that’s active tick, tick, tick, and causes him to straighten up.

“Y/n,” he says softly, large palm landing on your shoulder, steering you away from the counter.

You think maybe he’ll tackle you.

Then you remember you’re pregnant (#hewon’t)

“I know you’re having a bad day. Maybe, the worst day you’ve ever had, but this–”

“You don’t need to talk me down, John. I’m not a terrorist. I’m also not standing on a ledge,”

He looks from you to the drinks. “Aren’t you, though?”

Oh. Oh. You laugh, reach out and grab one. When you have a glass in each hands you hold them out to him–he takes them from you, and goes to sit them on the counter far away from your reach. No, no. You weren’t surrendering contraband. You chuckle, “No, John.” You tell him, “take a sip. That one first,”

John Nolan frowns but follows your instructions, as after all, who is he to deny the freshly-cheated-on-pregnant lady? He sips the half drunk one first and all but melts in relief when he tastes: “It’s water.”

“It’s water,” you confirm. “Now try that one. Let me live vicariously through you.”

He looks nervous but takes a sip. Then his mouth screws up. He swallows and shakes his head, “not water,” he pants, still recovering from the straight vodka he just gulped down. “So you were just, what?”

You shrug. “Hoping the placebo effect would kick in? All these drunk carefree people around me, alcohol in a glass in front of me. I was hoping I could trick myself into forgetting. Into having a good time, smiling, maybe.”

“Don’t let anyone stop you from smiling, L/n. That’d be a tragedy.”

“Oh yeah?”

Completely serious, he nods.

That’s the first night you spend with John.

Many more follow.

Night two happens a few days later when he realises you’ve officially quit. He stops by the motel room you’re staying in—Grey pointed him in the right direction—and asks why. “Well,” you say, “my dad offered that I could move back into my old room and my brothers were all very supportive of that plan but it felt like moving backwards and I’ve taken enough steps in that direction lately. Lost my husband, my best friend, my job. I couldn’t lose my independence too. I’d feel like a failure.” You correct yourself: “I’d feel like more of a failure.”

John plops down onto the end of the mattress and winces when he barely bounces. He would have sat in a chair but there was none and he would’ve stood but then his presence would feel temporary and he didn’t want you to think he was in a rush. He didn’t want you to think another one of the people in your life was eager to leave because, well, he wasn’t. “This is comfortable,” John quips and you roll your eyes, sitting next to him.

“Tell me about it. My back hurts just looking at it,” you groan.

“How much are they charging you, anyways?”

You aren’t employed right now and renting isn’t cheap–whether it’s a house or a room, he’s familiar. You sigh, “$100 a night. It’s the cheapest place that came without built-in bed bugs or a slum-lord I could find”

“And you can afford that?”

You give your best non-answer: “I’m managing.”

John’s frowning and just as you go to reassure him–to tell him it’s all okay, he blurts: “You’re pregnant.”

You laugh and look down at the bump that isn’t visible yet. “I know, John.”

“You’re pregnant,” he continues, “and I have a spare room. You shouldn’t be sleeping somewhere like this but you should be saving your money for when the baby comes. You can stay with me.”

“Why would that be any different than me moving back in with my parents? My independence is important to me.”

“And I would never take that from you. I could use a roommate. All I’d ask is that you cook sometimes. I’m an awful cook.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirms.

Night three, four, five, ten, twenty, and thirty go quickly. John and you grow closer, to the point you’re shooting him texts while he’s at work, about an odd craving you have. To the point that after his shift, he’s barrelling through the door, finding you curled up on the sofa watching a movie, and handing you the pint of Ben & Jerry’s and the Bread & Butter sweet pickles you requested. He still winces when you mix the two, using the pickle slice as a scoop, but he doesn’t actually care that much because he’s back in his civvy clothes, grabbing his own blanket, and settling down next to you. “What are we watching?”

“Shitty rom-com,” you garble, mouth half full of icecream and pickles.

Ten minutes later and you’re chasing him with your snack-concoction. “Try some,” you whine. “It’s so good!”

John tells you no. Absolutely not. Then, barely a minute later he’s wincing because the flavours mix but they don’t. He’s shaking his head at himself because he can’t believe he’s doing this but then he’s looking down at you and of course he can. He’s doing it for you, for that beautiful smile that he loves to be the reason for.

Sometimes you find yourself slipping into old habits. Ruffling his hair, hugging him before you waddle to your room to turn in for the night. Sometimes, John plays the part of the husband you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, you feel so guilty about it you cry. Those nights he always makes it worse. You apologize, blubbering, crying, and he holds you. “You’re no bother, Y/n/n. I love having you here with me,” I love you (that remains unsaid but it’s there. In the air, in the space between the both of you that’s empty but so full)

When you have your baby Tim isn’t there in the delivery room with you but John is. You hesitate before deciding to leave the ‘father’ space blank on your baby girl’s birth certificate. You know that she isn’t John’s but more than that, she isn’t Tim’s. You tell him this–you tell him you’ll fight for sole custody if you have to and knowing that you have the support of the department he agrees to what you’ll give him. He agrees to be what you need him to (nevermind that you don’t need him anymore; nevermind that he never wanted to be a dad in the first place, never wanted a daughter)

John steps up (you knew he would)

He had Henry and knew how all of this went. The sleepless nights he was ready for and he never complained. Your daughter loved him so much - sometimes you thought she loved him more than you but you never lingered on that thought too long - you understood. You could relate.

John was a boundaries-man. He never crossed yours and anything questionable that he did, he always made sure to ask. That was why after your little girl was in bed, sleeping soundly, John leaned in to kiss your forehead. That was normal, that was predicted. Safe. What wasn’t, was when you looked up at him, quite suddenly. It was your turn to ask him something. To find out whether how you had been feeling for the past month was fantasy or reality–returned or unrequited. “John?” you asked, heart beating quick, breaths matching.

“Yeah, Y/n?”

“Can I kiss you?”

And of course he said yes.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I dunno when you're gonna see this but take your time. I just wanted to know your opinion on the musical and if you had to pick a favorite NEW character, who would it be?

Ohhh lord. I’m preemptively sorry for all this. 

  So I haven’t seen the musical, and honestly I don’t plan to. I’m not much of a musical person in general. There’s definitely a place for them, but yk, I’m just not that into theatrical, over the top, song-filled ways of tellin stories…I may be in the school play now, but I’m a movie guy not a theater kid 🥲

  Aside from that (probably small-minded) preference, according to what I’ve picked up from y’all, the musical apparently has done a lotta things with the plot/characters that I’m just not into. I guess I just am not a big fan of the musical’s changes. I understand that it's a different medium, and lets be real I know nothing about musicals, so I’m sure the changes make sense in context, but I dunno…it just feels so different to me, enough so that I’m just not interested in it. Plus I’ve tried listening to the music n I just don’t vibe w/ most of it. 

  >>BUT I did hear the Little Brother song (Daryl Tofa cover I think) tho and that one went pretty damn hard ngl. I do not like the Johnny/Dally lil brother thing, but BOY that song was AMAZING. Really dug it. Very emotional, in a way where I could really feel it. That doesn’t happen to me very often lol.

  Idk tho aside from that I tend to refrain from commenting on the musical because I don’t have a lotta good to say about it, and I just don’t feel like it’s necessary for me to talk about something a bunch of folks like if I’m just gonna be bitchy lol. (Which is why I’m gonna tag this post very minimally lol 😭) Gah idk. Steve Randle and Randy Adderson deserved better. 

More bitchin under the cut, because I have some very silly nitpicks that I know aren’t a big deal, but I keep seeing these things around and they irritate me personally. For stupid personal reasons. It’s totally ok to dig these things/characters I’m just a hater at heart lol. So yk don’t hit the read more if ya don’t wanna see me bein a whiny, petty jerk abt things ya probably like 😭😭

  BEFORE that tho, some things I do like about the musical:

-Marcia looks perfect, no notes. Musical Marcia rocks

-Musical Cherry is also cool, n I dig her fit

-Daryl Tofa seems awesome. I like his Two-Bit, I like his Dally, I like him. I know next to nothing about him, but he was a fantastic casting choice imo. Two-Bit is still Emilio Estevez to me, but Daryl Tofa’s Two-Bit is pretty much perfect too

-Johnny’s fit is cool

-I like that the cast seems to like Marbit :)) 

-The way the cast posts things/interacts w/ the fandom is very endearing :)) I may not give a damn abt any of them really, but it’s fun seein’ y’all freak out abt it. Feels like watching a party from the sidelines in a good way- like I may not understand, but it’s charming and fun to see y’all happy ‘bout it 

-Soda’s actor quoted the “People who stay and people who leave” thing, so I don’t even care much that he’s not how I picture Soda- like he clearly gets Soda n that’s pretty cool

Ok time for the whining

-“Chet” is the name my folks used to say they were naming me before I was born, because they thought it was an awful name and they thought it was funny seeing folks’ reactions. So I’m pretty primed to dislike him by name alone.

-Chet/Soda annoys me, Soda has Steve he doesn’t need some Soc jerk. Y’all have Parry for ur homoerotic Soc x greaser stuff, don’t kill Stevepop man

-Cherrycola is just Marbit but blander 😭

-I also am not fond of cutting Randy?? Like why tf did they cut Randy Adderson?? I liked him a lot in the book/movie, and he really added a lot to the plot in my opinion…But idk, whatever…

-“Trip”- shut up, just LET HIM BE RANDY, HOLY HELL! he could be played COMPLETELY THE SAME just CALL HIM RANDY and I’ll stop being mad about it :,)

-the Dally/Johnny little brother thing…it’s a take, but it’s the most boring take for their characters ever, and I just despise that view of Johnny. Idk if I were him I’d be so pissed, having a friend who’s just a year older than me callin’ me “little brother”. But that’s just me! I definitely see why folks dig it, it’s just not my thing.

-I am probably also personally resentful towards the musical because I couldn’t afford to see it this summer, which just felt very ironic considering the themes about class divide and all. Like great, y’all have fun spending a crap ton of money on a musical about greasers. I’ll spend mine on gas for my car. And food. Whatever. I was in NY this summer too, so Broadway Outsiders straight up haunted me. There were brochures for it in the hotel. We walked past the Jacobs Theater a bunch on the way to restaurants and stuff. The ad for it is in the background of all my selfies in Times Square… Aughhhh I’m bein such a bitch about it ik ik it’s so unfair and so stupidly petty for me to be so irritated about it. I know. I can’t help it. Sue me, I’m not a logical man.

-I do NOT care about Paul. But there’s more like…tension w/ Paul in the musical, so obviously everyone’s latched onto him + Darry. Fine. I just really really don’t care about him, and seeing something I don’t care about constantly is turning neutrality into disdain…which is again such a me problem n I needa just get over it lol. I won’t though. I wish I could.

-Not into the way Dally dies in the musical. It is cool, don’t get me wrong, I love me a good train, but something about the way he died in the book/movie felt more like Dally to me. Idk. There was more plausible deniability or something, like Dally could convince himself he was going down fighting instead of “giving up”. (Kinda crass ik but…so is Dally, man)

-The Socs annoy me. That is so hypocritical since one of my favorite characters is Steve Randle. I know it. I swear I do. But ughhhh I just don’t like hearing about them…I’m so sorry

-Soda shouldn’t be that buff man he really shouldn’t. Also feel like he should be prettier. Jason’s good looking, but not in a very “sensitive” way…TO ME! And that is ridiculously unfair of me lol. Idk Rob Lowe’s Soda is irreplaceable to me I think (I can’t help it he’s my gay awakening) (/J/J/J ISTG)

-I miss Steve’s vest man, it was so tuff. The way it’s cropped in the movie to meet the waistband of his jeans?? The way the collar’s popped?? The fit w/ the tank top underneath?? Genuinely the height of coolness to me. I had a denim vest before watching Outsiders, but after watching it I bought one in the same brand as Steve’s because the fit was so fire man (n it does fit better than my old one lol. IDK what it is abt Lee’s denim, but their jacket makes my shoulders + waist look so much better than my old jacket it’s great) tl;dr I miss Steve’s vest it was my fav Outsiders character

-I don’t r e a l l y care much about Ace…I mean she’s ok, and she does look very cool, but I just wish we were clearer on her…role in the gang, I guess? I dunno (maybe if she was Two’s lil sister it wouldn’t bug me? Like cos he canonically has a little sister?? Or if she was like…Sylvia or smth… but nah she occupies an entirely different role so idk how to feel abt that)

-I don’t like that Steve “travelled here w/ Dally”. Steve is SODA’S BEST FRIEND! THAT’S HIS WHOLE ROLE!

-They shoulda casted me. Look I may not like musicals but I can sing GREAT and it’s frankly appalling that there’s a modern Outsiders adaptation and I don’t get to be part of it. Smh. I’d be a great Steve. I coulda been Steve. Plus I’m Asian so yk. Diversity. (I’m a minor they could not and would not cast me lol this one’s a joke)

-I don’t love the Pony n Johnny as best friends take. I think they became close because of Windrixville, which is just another thing that adds to the tragedy of Johnny dying. That’s a nitpick tho again. It’s not that big a deal :,)

Augh so ik I needa just cope with all of this but y’know…you asked… :,)

Sorry again for all this lol 😭

[kageyuji]

asking him how to confess to your crush (him)

⤷ oikawa, suna, bokuto, iwaizumi ; [gn!reader]

TAGS: fluff/crack if you squint, confessions

NOTES: please reblog or i’ll cry

━━ OIKAWA

you can’t miss the momentary look of sadness, but he quickly hides it with a cocky smile

he tells you the cheesiest possible way to confess to someone. he doesn’t even know if it’ll work on not

(he actually hopes it doesn’t, but he can’t just be an asshole and tell you something that clearly won’t work)

but once he realizes that he is the person you like, his mind jumps to several different places all at once

he’s happy but also he can’t properly form words, please bear with him </3

“Oikawa?”

He hummed a response to you, ghost of a smile on his lips. He always liked the way you said his name, even if it was just his family name.

“I have a favor... so there’s this guy that I like, and I wasn’t sure how to tell him. Do you think you could give me ideas?”

You don’t miss the pout on his lips, the way his eyebrows furrow, the hurt in his eyes. If one were to blink, they wouldn’t have missed it. He smiled and laughed, quickly trying to hide how much his heart ached.

People — in reality, only makki and mattsun — had asked you if you had feelings for someone. But you never gave them an answer, just a flustered smile and a shrug.

“Uhm... I don’t know, depends on the person. You can get a bouquet or something, and chocolates maybe?”

A smile lit up your face. He had looked so pained to say it; his nose was wrinkled up a little, one hand at the back of his neck, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“Oh, yeah! That sounds sweet, he might like that. Should I ask him what his favorite flowers are?”

“Yeah.” His heart sunk impossibly lower.

“Got it. So, what are your favorite flowers?”

He looked up from where he’d taken a sudden interest in the floor, looking around for someone else. But no one seemed to be engaging in a conversation with you — actually, he realized it was only you and him in the room.

“No, I meant ask this guy that you like.”

“I just did.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, eyes wide and lips parted. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read. Shock, or was in confusion? There was also an undertone of hurt, like he couldn’t tell if this was some sick joke or not.

“You mean... me? I’m the- you have feelings for me?”

Your heart fell then — of course you’d been nervous to tell him. But with the constant flirting, you were beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t just harmless and playful anymore. That maybe even if it was still done playfully, there was truth behind those words, behind the smiles and the winks he sent you.

“If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine, I just-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I was just a little surprised is all. I feel the same way, and you’re great, really, I just figured I wasn’t your type.”

“But you are.” You said, heating rising in your cheeks. Nothing could mask the smile he wore, even if he was trying not fight it.

“And you are my type. Guess we’re both lucky, hm?”

━━ SUNA

he is determined not to let you notice how his heart stopped in his chest

he still holds the same disinterested, bored look on his face as always, although he’s unaware you could see right through him

refuses to give you advice on how to go about confessing

in fact, the last thing he wants to do is be around you — he knows you were never his, so he can’t be upset, but it still turns his stomach

tell him before he can find an excuse to leave, or else your confession will be a lot more painstaking due to him dodging any interaction with you

“So uh... if you were to confess to someone you like, how do you think you would do it?” Your voice sounded so sweet, so genuine.

“Why? You have a little crush on somethin’?” He laughed.

“Yeah, actually.”

Oh.

You don’t miss the way his nose scrunches and the look in his eyes. He’s looking at the floor with narrowed eyes, almost as though the floor was the cause of his jealousy.

Well, not his jealousy — he wasn’t jealous, was he?

“Hm,” He hums, and you find him putting back on the same incurious face that he always wore. “I don’t know, elaborate confessions are pointless. Just tell the person how you feel. If they really like you, they won’t turn you aware for being simple.”

“Ah, that’s true.” You smile, though it’s fueled with nervousness. “So, one more thing I gotta say then.”

“Make it quick, I’ve to be somewhere soon.” Suna hates the bitter taste in his mouth.

He knows he shouldn’t care, after all he’s never worked up the courage to spill his heart to you, so he doesn’t have a right to feel like something is being torn — no, stolen — away from him.

“Right. You said simple, so... I like you, and I think you’re really sweet. And you’re funny and you’re so caring, even though you would never admit that. Um, I hope that was boiled down enough for you.”

“You’re kidding right?”

The tone in his voice is almost accusatory, although he doesn’t mean it to be, he just genuinely doesn’t believe you. When had you ever shown interest in him? Not that he was complaining.

“No. But it’s fine if you d-”

“I never said that. If you mean it though, maybe you can tell me the longer version of everything you like about me. Over coffee or something?”

━━ BOKUTO

ok first off, let me stop you right there, because baby boy is gonna get so sad :(

there is no hiding the hurt he’s feeling. he’s always expressive, even though he’s trying to hide it

please stop him there because his mood is only going downhill

actually tells you some elaborate, thought out thing that you assumed was from the top of his head

(although in reality, he’s thought about telling you how he feels on countless times)

but when he realizes that you’re talking about him he instantly does a 180, he looks like he’s in heaven

“Bokuto!” You call his name with a smile. You’ve found you can always get a matching one from him whenever you do so.

And of course he smiles back at you, the same excited look in his eyes as always. “Y/n!”

“I need advice.” You say.

His expression drops into one of worry at your tone. If there was anything that Bokuto hated in this world, it was seeing you upset.

“What is it?”

“I need to know how to tell someone that I have feelings for them.”

And just like that, you can see his heart break through his expression. His eyebrows pin up and he presses his lips into a thin line. You can tell that he’s trying not to show you how bothered he was by that one sentence.

He always was bad at pretending he was fine though. It was clear, if nothing else you could see his watery eyes.

“Oh... uhm. Can I ask who the person is?”

You’re hesitant to say it. But you don’t know why, because his reaction was your final bit of proof that he had feelings for you too. He hadn’t been subtle before, but now it was obvious.

“You.”

“What?” Bokuto said, although the word was breathless.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond to him. Instead, the wide smile he always wore appeared back on his face and he wrapped his arms around you.

Usually, Bokuto’s hugs are tight anyway. They’re filled with a need to be close to you and a need to convey the emotion of ‘you are the only thing grounding me right now’.

But this one was tighter. He buried his face into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “I may have to confess to someone too.”

━━ IWAIZUMI

iwaizumi is a gentleman about it, as much as he doesn’t want to be

if anything, he wants to tell you right then and there about his feelings

but the fact (or rather, the thought) that you’ve taken an interest in someone else is all the evidence he needs to stop himself

the last thing he wants to do it mess with your emotions so he intends to stuff he feelings down to deepest parts of his mind in hopes that they’ll one day disappear

until of course, he realizes that he is the guy you’d been talking about

he gets giddy, believe it or not. he hates to admit it sometimes, but unbeknownst to you, you have so much control over his emotions

“So, Iwa?” You said, and he tried to overlook the cautious tone to your voice.

“Hm?”

“Uh, theres this guy that I kind of have feelings for. But the thing is, I don’t know how to tell him.” You sound nervous.

Iwaizumi assumes it’s from the thought of having to tell this person your feelings, yet he doesn’t realize that said person is him and it’s coming sooner than he’d realized.

He doesn’t say anything in response to you at first. His eyes narrow only slightly, then he takes a deep breath and turns back to you with his usual expression.

“If you’re going to tell them, do something sweet and simple. If you get all extravagant with it, it might freak ‘em out. Maybe... I dunno, buy a little gift and tell them?

He hid it well. The mix of jealousy, regret, and sadness in him was painful, but he clenched his fists and tried not to let his voice crack. If there was someone you knew that didn’t cry, it was Iwaizumi. Yet here he was, doing everything in his power not show how upset he was.

What was he even doing anyway? He was helping you find a lover that was not himself. Not that you even knew that, because in reality he’d never shown to you that he had feelings towards you.

That was something he was regretting a lot now.

“Oh I see, what kind of gift would you like?”

Ouch. As though this couldn’t hurt more. “I don’t know, depends on the person. Ask him, not me.”

“I just did, dummy.”

It took him a few seconds to process that, then another few seconds for the relief and happiness to wash over him. A smile rugged at the corner of his lips.

“That’s cute. You and I can go out somewhere this weekend and I can help you pick something out, hm?”

[beej-juicy]

Tumblr is eating my tags so I figured I'd post on ao3

Beetlejuice x you

Snippet:

“If you aren’t topless in thirty seconds, I’m breaking shit.”

The Deetz family asked you to housesit for them. Adam and Barbara would be there to reign in Beetlejuice, but Charles knew he liked you best.

Of course, they hadn’t figured out why yet.

It had nothing to do with the fact that two weeks ago you rode his cock for the first time.

Nope, nothing to do with that.

Last time he’d made demands, you weren’t tipping the pizza delivery guy fast enough so he broke one of Delia’s favorite wine glasses and then fucked you on the kitchen counter.

Considering this, you were frantic to follow orders now. Trying to glue that thin glass back together had not been easy. Thankfully, Beetlejuice offered to use his powers to fix it…for a price. Your knees were bruised from how long he kept you on them.

Slipping the shirt off, Beetlejuice watches with a hungry expression. His jaw tightens when he notices you’re not wearing a bra. Calmly leaning against the dining room wall, he licks his lower lip, pretends he isn’t gawking.

“The pants. Unbutton them.” At his words, you gape at him. “Now would be ideal, toots.”

You’d worn a red lace thong…maybe in hopes he’d see it…but now your nerves got the better of you and you hope he just gets distracted and rips the clothes off instead of making you a spectacle.

No such luck.

He hums, two steps forward, inspecting. Index finger hooking under the elastic band on your right hip.

“Now, what’ve we got here?” A hand grips your hip, yanking the jeans down slightly to reveal the bright red fabric. “Well fuck me…you came prepared. Oooh, look at you.” The glee on his face is gone moments later. “Strip.”

You want to protest, but you’re kind of turned on by the proximity. His gaze is alluring.

“Slow down,” he urges when you grab at the jeans and start removing them. “Let me take you in.”

As you undress, he walks around you like a predator. There’s a low rumble in this throat and you swear he’s growling.

Naked except the thong, you peer over your shoulder to see him ogling at your ass.

Two swift movements and he’s got you bent at the hips, pinned against the dining room table where Delia hosts all her dinner parties. You feel filthy. You love it.

Beetlejuice is hard and he makes sure to let you know by grinding himself against your ass.

Seconds feel like minutes from the time he unzips to when you feel him rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt.

“God, please…” you huff out.

“No Gods here, darlin’.” His gruff voice is against your ear as he shifts the thong to the side, shoves himself inside with no prep.

The stretch is painful yet glorious, the way he says your name burned into your memory. You can feel his facial hair against your back as he lolls his head forward, grumbling about how wet you are, how he’s not going to last, how you should’ve never agreed to this weeks ago.

“You better get off before I fill you up, princess. Else you’re not cumming all night.”

It’s a threat you know he’ll follow through with. He has before.

A race to the finish always gives you a bit of a jolt. Being caught does also, but not by the Maitlands.

The slam above startles you, but Beetlejuice grips your neck, forces you back against him, groans when his hand cups your ass cheek.

“Those deadbeats are doing another aerobics thing or some shit. I dunno,” he mutters against your neck. “Hey! Don’t. Stop.”

“You know this position isn’t my favorite,” you dare to groan out.

“Well you better figure it out quick, sweetness, because my balls are tightening and I’m not holding back.”

You practically weep.

He snakes his hand around you, offers a harsh finger against your clit. His rubbing is sporadic and slightly distracting.

Slapping his hand away is probably not the best idea but you’re acting on impulse, eager to cum with him stretching you so good.

He bites you - hard - draws blood. As you’re about to yelp out, his hand covers your mouth, breaths coming out as gasps around his fingers.

“I’m not fibbing, honey,” the growl is ever present in his voice. “You don’t cum - now - you’re not all night.”

He knows - he knows - the urgency always gets you. His thrusts sloppy now, hand still over your mouth, you buck back against him to catapult yourself over that proverbial ledge.

“Oooooh, fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.” His thrusts are smooth now, hand pulling away from your mouth so he can grip both of your hips and slow his pace.

Your slick sounds are loud with every movement but the pace feels good, him hitting you deep and slow.

Clawing at the table runner, your breaths come out as gasps, quiet screams, praising him as your orgasm peaks.

Recovering and overstimulated, you’re shocked Beetlejuice hasn’t cum yet and with every thrust, he grips you tighter.

“Hey. Hey, no, toots. Stay there - just like that,” you hear him through the ringing in your ears.

Throwing yourself back against him again, you almost feel the edge of the last orgasm prickling still and when he pulls out to just tease his tip, you’re manic for a moment; enthralled by the sensation.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, slam back on me, babes. Slam back on me!” He cries, forcing you backwards.

The pace he’s thrusting into you has you breathless again and in mere seconds you feel him filling you up.

The sensation is overwhelming. Another orgasm rips through you. He holds you upright so you don’t careen over the table, his strong hands another sensation on your sensitive flesh.

Breathless, you glance back at him.

“Not a fan of this position, huh.” He chuckles, choking you momentarily before lazily pulling out of you.

“Guess I’ve just never been fucked proper in certain positions.” It’s a total bait.

A wide grin, “we can fix that.”

As you’re dressing, you notice the vase centerpiece is tipped over, a chunk missing from the lip.

Mouth agape, you realize you must’ve knocked it down.

“Get on your knees for me. I’ll make it worth your time.”

The devilish smirk on his face is hard to say no to.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Thirteen: Talk

Mentions of: Drug use, knifes, threats, slight angst, smoking, etc.

A/N: I sense some development coming…

Tags: @vandeaad @mama-miya @dead-bxxxtch-walking @prettycutebunny @moonshineinasippycup

Pissed. That’s how Frank feels, searching the whole terrain to find that one last survivor who had been hiding the whole trial. He’s going to make them pay for wasting his time. He was going to make them hurt.

But then, he heard the muffled sound of crows cawing. He followed it to the killer shack. From there, he could hear it coming from the basement.

He raced down the steps, his adrenaline racing, and his heart thumping in his chest. The smell of weed filled his nostrils, disarming him and clearing his once-angry mind.

His killer instinct is gone, leaving him confused and surprised. There you sat, blunt in hand, once again smoking his stuff. You looked just as stunned as him.

“You’re something else.” He remarked, shaking his head. “How did you even bring that here?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I just did. And before you kill me, I have a peace offering. You let me get hatch, and I’ll let you smoke the rest of this bag with me.”

“Or I could just kill you right now, get this trial over with, and get the rest of the bag to myself.” He flipped his knife.

He expected anger, fear, and resentment, but your expression remained neutral. You just shrugged instead. “You could, nothing is stopping you. It’s your choice.”

Frank can’t tell if he likes this side of you or not. All he knows is the bloodlust inside of him is gone, whisked away by the sympathy high he’s getting from the marijuana hanging in the air. And if you’re not going to fight him, killing you will be much less fun.

So, he pockets his knife for the time being and takes a seat beside you. You passed him the blunt you were smoking, and he pulled off his mask, putting it between his lips and inhaling.

“This doesn’t mean anything’s changed, by the way. I still hate your guts.” You told him. “Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual.”

You grinned at him. Not a smile, not a frown or glare, but a grin. He smirked back.

“You know, I met your girlfriend today.” You said, watching as he blew some smoke.

He passed the blunt back to you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You two are perfect for each other. Nothing more romantic than two murderous assholes in love.” You remarked, taking another hit. He snorted, chuckling to himself.

“Julie can be a bit…vindictive,” Frank admitted. “I’m surprised you made it out there alive…you did survive, right?”

“Barely, but it seemed like she was going to kill Susie first. Apparently, Susie didn’t tell her we were hanging out or something, and she was pissed.” You explained.

“I don’t get why Susie didn’t tell her though, I mean I saved her, and no offense, but you guys don’t seem like the greatest people to be friends with. I mean, you and Julie are assholes, and I don’t know about that other guy, but he seems kind of standoffish too.”

“But can you blame her? You saw how Julie can get.”

“I guess not. She’s probably going to be pissed at me when this is all over.” You groaned, rubbing your temples.

“Why do you care what she thinks?” Frank asked, taking another hit from the blunt.

“Because she’s my friend. I care about her as a whole, including what she thinks..” You admitted.

“Guess you’re closer with her than I thought.” He murmured. “Yeah.”

If you’re being honest, that’s not the whole reason. It’s because she reminds you of Allison. She acted a lot like her- minus the murderer part- she’s kind, shy, and demure, but energetic and bubbly as well. Sometimes, she even looks like her.

But you don’t know if that’s true. Your memories of her are starting to fade, and the image of her in your head is growing blurry, the only clear picture you have is the one from the carnival.

Shit, you could feel the tears start to sting in your eyes. The last thing you want to do right now is cry, especially not in front of Frank. That would be extremely humiliating.

“Fuck, I’m high.” You muttered, squeezing your eyes, acting like they were all red and watery from the weed.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly, the ground started trembling, and the familiar bell of the exit gates rang. It seemed like your little smoke session was over.

“Shit. Did you do that?” You asked, jumping to your feet. “What? No. How could I do that when I’m sitting here with you? The Entity’s pissed. If you wanna live, we gotta get out of here.”

The two of you raced out to the shack, and back into the desert, searching frantically for an exit gate. “Here!”

Frank called you over. He hit the exit gate with the night, causing the doors to slowly open. You both stood there for a brief moment, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uh, do you want your weed back?” You asked, holding up the bag to him.

He waved it off. “Just keep it.”

“Wait, seriously?” More interested in the drug rather than getting out of here alive. “Just take it ok? Now go, before we both get killed.”

“Okay, well, uh, bye.” You waved, and he sighed, waving back to you, watching as you left through the exit gate, and the trial finally concluded.

That was weird. You had an encounter with Frank that didn’t end with threats or someone being dead. It was just…normal. Pleasant, even. Almost like you two were friends.

But you’re not friends. You hate each other. You just don’t hate him as much as you do currently because you’re baked out of your mind….right?

You try to forget about everything that just happened, letting the darkness take you and bring you back to the campfire.

Yeah, things are getting much too complicated for your liking. But you know not to be too focused on that. You just need to survive this place. Hopefully, you can. And one day, maybe, just maybe, you’ll get out of here.

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[triplexdoublex]

No Angel

Pairing: Colson x Reader

Warnings/tags: Colson is your mothers boyfriends son in this so kind of like your step brother but you only just met him so its not as bad as it sounds I promise. Dirty talk, sneaking into your room while your asleep, fucking in the dark, covering your mouth. Lots of sin just in time for Easter.

A/N: this is an AU

“Who’s that?” Your friend Shawnie asked you, referring to the blonde,  tattooed man wearing headphones and sitting on the bed of the guestroom across the hall from your bedroom.

“My mom’s boyfriend’s son. His name’s Colson,” you answered. “Apparently he’s staying with us while he’s on College break.” You shrugged. “He’s kinda hott though, right?” 

“Eww! Y/N!” Shawnie scolded. “That makes him like your step-brother. What is wrong with you!?”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes. “Our parents aren’t even married and besides, I only just met him this morning.” 

“True,” Shawnie agreed it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “And you’re right, he is kind of a hottie.” She smiled. 

“Right!? His tattoos alone are just, Unnnf!” You groaned sneaking another look at him. “And God, he’s  just so tall, and I dunno if you can tell from here but his hands are huge—”

“And you know what they say about guys with big hands!” Shawnie finished your thought.

“Exactly!” You smirked. “Look, all I’m saying is if he wanted to put it in me, I wouldn’t say no.”

“You’re so bad.” Shawnie laughed, entertained by your bluntness. 

**************

Later that night after Shawnie had returned to her house and you were snug asleep in your bed, you were suddenly awoken by a dipping of the mattress and a weight on top of you. Startled and confused you opened your mouth to scream but it was quickly covered by a hand. 

“Relax, it’s just me. It’s Colson,” he whispered, figuring you wouldn’t be familiar enough with just his voice quite yet. You could just barely make out the outline of his face in the dark, his strong jawline and sharp cheekbones slicing through the moonlit glow creeping through the curtains of your bedroom window. 

You swatted his hand away. “What the hell are you doing in here?” You spoke softly trying to keep your voice down. 

“Just talking you up on your offer,” you could hear the smirk on his face through his tone.

“What are you talking about?” You questioned, your mind still clouded with sleep. 

“You know—“ he leaned forward to whisper the next part into your ear, “letting me put it in you.” 

“Colson, I—”

“What?” His lips ghosted down your neck before connecting to your flesh with a light smacking sound. You didn’t dare stop him. “Don’t try to act all innocent. You’re no Angel,” his lips echoed off your skin again. “You think I didn’t hear you and your little friend talking about me today? Hmm?” He kissed your neck once more. “Talking about my hands and how big my cock must be,” he talked softly, keeping his lips close to your skin as he undid the top section of buttons on your nightshirt, granting him access to your breasts.

“Shit, I —“ your chest heaved with desire against his lips. “Didn’t know you— fuck—,” you whined when he caught you off guard in the dark as he began to swirl his tongue over one of  your nipples. “Could hear me,” you continued. 

“Every word,” he teased. “I hadn’t decided what I wanted to listen to yet” he chuckled softly. “So here’s the deal,” he said sitting up, straddling you. “I can turn on the light and just show you how big I am, then head back to my room and leave you to your own devices. Or—“ he picked up your hand bringing to his tattooed chest; the permanent ink just barely visible in moonlight, as he slid your hand down his torso and over the hardening bulge in his boxers. “— I can let you feel every inch of this with your needy cunt as I fuck you into the mattress,” he said rubbing your hand back and forth along the outline of his cloth covered cock. “Your choice.” 

“Fuck, me!”  You whined, gently pulling him forward by the handful and half sitting up to connect your mouths.

“Mmm, Good choice,” he bit your bottom lip as he tugged himself free from his boxers. He slid your nightshirt up around your waist and navigated his hands hands to your hips, surprised to find them bare. “No panties?” He questioned, amused. “You knew I was in the room right across the hall and you're in here with no panties on? You filthy girl,” he teased his tip through your folds.

“I’m used to having the wh-whole upstairs to mmm-myself,” your breath started to hitch at the contact.

“Excuses,” he taunted pushing into you. “Mmmm, I think this tight little pussy just wanted to get F-ucked.” He snapped his hips forward as his teeth dragged the harsh F sound from lips. 

“Ohmygod, Fuck!” You moaned, back arching off the bed when he quickly inserted his full length.

“Shh-shhh-shh,” he put a finger to your lips slightly chuckling as he sushed you through his thrusts. “Our parents are right downstairs, Do you wanna get caught? Keep it down.”

“Sorry, can’t help it,” you whispered, “your huge cock feels so fucking good inside me.” God what you wouldn’t have given  to be able to scream his name as loud as you wanted while he fucked you into oblivion, but it was bad enough your headboard was rattling and he had to pause a few times to stuff a pillow between it and the wall. “Just leave it, fuck, I’m so close,” you instructed the next time the pillow slipped, letting it clamour momentarily as you came hard on his cock. 

“Mmmmgghhh,” he groaned lowly as your pulsing walls pulled his orgasm from him, filling you to the brim. He quickly pulled out and tucked himself back into his boxers. “Goodnight,” he said slyly. “Enjoy the feeling of me dripping from you all night. See you in the morning.”

*****************

“Good morning,”  each of your parents welcomed you at breakfast the next  morning, you and Colson taking a seat across from each other.

“How was your first night home? Sleep ok?” Colson’s dad asked him. 

“Tossed and turned,” he stole a quick glance at you as he spoke “You know that kinda sleep when your just in and out all night,” his words dripped with innuendos making you choke on your orange juice. 

“I’m good,” you blushed as everyone’s attention turned to you. “Wrong pipe.”

“How about you sweetie, did you sleep okay?” Your mom asked. “I think I heard Colson up late last night unpacking some of his things, I hope he didn’t keep you up, did he?”

“He did, but it’s okay. I’m fine,” you looked at Colson.

“My bad,” he winked at you. “I’ll try to be quieter tonight.” 

[scoupshoops]

A short stray kids au

In which: Stray kids were a group of highly trained police officers sent on a dangerous mission

Full credits on my Twitter. Twitter tag is @Chans2LapTop

The eight men gathered in a line formation, facing their boss as they received orders.

“I have a very important mission for you. A shooter has been reported at a warehouse down by Maxident Boulevard. This isn’t the first time we’ve encountered this man, but he is very skilled in combat. I trust you all will be able to safely take care of this issue.”

They all looked at each other, exchanging looks of concern. Soon after, leader of the squad Christopher Bahng stood forward, “We won’t disappoint you, sir.” The other seven bowed their heads in agreement, making their way to the locker rooms to change into protective gear.

“What do you think this guy is like?” Lee Know asked.

“I dunno, but from what Boss said.. He’s not someone we should play around with,” Jeongin looked over at him.

“That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he trusted us in this, so we should give him back what he expects.” A determined Chris said.

“Wise words from a wise man,” Han sighed. Once they were all geared up, they made their way to the squad cars, heading out to the warehouse to find this man.

They pulled into the driveway of a school that was nearby to avoid suspicion. Once they were out, they made their way to the warehouse. Once close enough. Chris signals his hand for them to split up and continue communication through their radios. They knew the shooter was somewhere within the empty building, but it was three stories; he could be anywhere.

After some searching, gunshots filled the large and hollow warehouse. They found him. The whole search became a full-on shootout just like that. The eight already knew of the man’s skills from their boss, but they didn’t realize how good he actually was.

It was a game of Modern Warfare at this point. They try to get him but they retreat to a lower floor huddling around to come up with a plan.

They come back together as eight, staying distant, but eyes all around each other. The eerie silence was disrupted by a loud, single gunshot, causing a reaction from the eight. What they didn’t notice was where the bullet came from, and where it went.

“Chris..” a heaving Felix whispered, causing the other seven to turn around.

Their faces went cold as they eyed the red hole in his vest, slowly being soaked in scarlet blood.

Felix looked up from the wound, pain and shock on his face before his knees gave in, causing him to collapse onto the concrete floor.

Before Felix’s head could make contact with the floor, Chris falls to his knees, cradling his head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Felix. Just keep breathing.” As Chris stayed by Felix, he ordered the other six to lure the gunman away. Heavy tears slid down red cheeks as he looked upon his dying friend.

“Don’t cry..” Felix muttered, “I’m okay.” He lets out a little laugh, “I knew this was going to happen. I’m not as strong as the rest of you guys.”

“That doesn’t matter, Felix. You can still make it out of here! Just keep breathing, okay? I’ll call an ambulance when we-”

“Shh..” Felix hushed the larger man above him, “Let me go. We’re both going to be okay.”

“I can’t,” Chris mouths, choking on sobs begging to come out.

Felix couldn’t help but just smile. He knew Chris wasn’t going to be okay, but he had to just keep reassuring him. “I love you so much. Protect them, okay?”

He nods, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Go on without me..” Those were his last words. At least the last of what Chris heard before he felt as Felix’s freckled skin, now cold and turning pale. The mission ended just like that. They were able to shoot down the gunman and arrest him, but a life was still lost. A pure, innocent life taken away from the once eight boys way too soon.

They knew they would never be the same. The young man’s memory lives on with them. Continuing on with their further missions, things will never be the same because the group that was once eight now remains as seven.

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

[sebastianstansqueen]

The King And His Queen 15

A/N: I don't have anything to say so I hope you like it Tumblr fucKed up my Key Bord so I have to copy and paste my 'e' and I have to capitalize 'L', 'K', 'W', 'E'-if I don't Want to do copy and paste- and others so sorry if that didn't maKe sence, Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 2738

Warnings: Mentions of attempted Suicide, angst, mental institution, and angst, let me know if I missed anything

Masterlist //  Taglist open // Series Masterlist

Tags: @cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @lharrietg - @austynparksandpizza - @pineprincess - @avengerlex - @leyannrae - @abzidabzy - @nik2write -

You woke up to the sound of low mumbles, it sounded like Bucky, you had a hard furrow in your brows, your eyes opened Bucky looked up at you. “Thank god.” He said. “Why would you do that?” He was surprisingly calm.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“Two days.” He answered.

You sighed. “That day wasn't good, I-I don’t know why I’m feeling so shitty.” Tears welled in your eyes. “It’s not your fault the fight wasn't we wouldn’t have fought if I didn’t drunk that night.”

“I don't care about the fight, I just wanna know why you did this to yourself?” Bucky asked, sadness dripping from his tone.

“I just dunno, I’m a horrible mother, I can’t fucking protect Brooklyn nomatter what I try and do, I don’t feel like me any more, not after John, I also suck as a fiancé I got mad at you for no reasion.” You started crying.

“Shh, none of this is your fault.” Bucky told you. “You're not a horrible mother nore fiancé.” Bucky told you, he cupped your face. “I’m sorry that you thought suicide was your only thing you could do.”

“How's Brooklyn?” Y0u asked.

Bucky scratched the back of his head. “She’s uh fine, she doesn't know about this, but before you see her I want you to see a therapist for a little while.”

“Bucky-” You got cut off.

“No Y/n I need you to, do this for Brooklyn and me, I need you to get help.” Bucky asked. “I’ll make sure you're well taken care of-” before he continued you cut him off.

“You're not gonna just have me see some therapist, you're gonna have me go to a psychiatric hospital aren't you?” You asked him.

He nodded, biting his bottom lip with nerves. “Yeah.” He looked down. “Just for a little while to get you help I won't let anything happen to you or Brooklyn.”

You looked up at him, tears had gathered in your eyes. “You're a good dad, and fiancé.” You smiled. “Yeah I think I should go.”

“Love you, thanks for doing this for us.” He thanked you.

“I’m gonna take a good guess they're already here?” You artched your brow, he nodded. “At least let me say bye to Brooklyn. I know you don’t want me talking to her but at least bye.”

“I’m not gonna deny you, her mother, saying goodbye.” He said, Bucky helped you out of bed, he led you out to the living room, he told the guys from the hospital to hold off for a minute.

“Mommy!” Brooklyn smiled running up to you. “Daddy and Sam wouldn’t let me come see you.”

You nodded. “Yeah I know, look mama’s gotta go for a little while until she feels better mommy’s sick right now and needs to get better.”

She frowned. “Are you gonna miss my first day of school? You don’t look sick.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I won't be there but Daddy and Sam will take pictures and lots of videos for me to see. I’m a different kind of sick, mommy’s not as happy as she’s been and I need to get better for you and daddy, I’ll see you in a few weeks.” You told her and they were led out by the guy’s Bucky followed you, and Brooklyn followed him.

You knew Bucky wouldn’t let you go anywhere horrible, so you knew what this hospital would look like, it would be nice, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything weird going on at this place.

When you got to the facility you had to fill out paperwork and also do a medical check up. The doctor paused when she was doing your check up. “On here you said you hadn’t had a cycle for a few weeks.”

“Uh yeah.” You nodded. “I thought it could be from not eating.” You explained.

She nodded. “It could be, you're not necessarily wrong, but pregnancy could always be an option, I need you to answer a few questions, first any sexual relations reacently?”

“It’s been a couple weeks.” You answered.

“Any nausea?” She asked.

You shook your head. “No.”

“I wanna do an ultrasound.” She told you.

You nodded. “Yeah that’s alright.”

Bucky had his mom come by to help with Brooklyn only for while you were gone. Now they were talking in his office.

“Why didn’t you tell us about her sooner?” Whinnifred asked.

Bucky tilted his head. “Dad wasn’t known for being father of the year, and as much as I love you, you and dad didn’t like Y/n that much.”

“Understandable but you waited five years.” She told him.

“Technically I only waited two.” He said truthfully.

She looked at him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean she’s five.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but it's a little complicated, yeah I knew she existed but I wasn’t allowed to say anything because Y/n had full custody.”

“You're her father.” Winnifred told him.

“Yeah but I wasn’t exactly there for the first three years.” Bucky told her.

“Oh why not?” Winnifred asked.

He sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about it, are you willing to help or not?”

“Obviously.” She told him.

Two weeks after you left, Bucky was taking Brooklyn to her first day of school, and as promised he took pictures and videos for you to watch. They parked outside of the school. Brooklyn looked at Bucky. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

She shook her head, ‘no’. “I wish Mama was here.” She said to him.

He nodded. “Yeah I wish she was here too, but she’s getting better, but when we go visit her, we can show her all the videos and you can tell her all about it.”

“Okay.” She nodded, both of them got out of the car and they filmed her as she followed her teacher and classmates into the classroom.

“She’s gonna be alright.” Sam reassured.

“I know.” He nodded.

After school got out Brooklyn looked like she was buzzing with excitement. Bucky smiled. “You seem happy.”

“That’s because I am.” She told him. “I like it, it's fun.” She smiled. “Also we’re gonna go see mama.”

“That we are.” He smiled. “Come on.” Bucky opened the door of the car.

You were sitting in a meeting with your newfound therapist when one of the guards came in. “Mr. Barnes is here to see you, Mis.Y/l/n.”

“Yes you can go, since you come to all of your appointments.” She told you.

“Thank you.” You got out of the chair and followed the guard out to the out door visiting area.

“I’ll be standing right through those doors. If I see anything I don’t like I’ll come out and deal with it.” He told you.

“Alright.” You nodded.

“Mama!” Brooklyn ran up to you.

You caught her in your arms. “Hey baby girl.” You kissed the top of her head, you held her in your arms as you walked up to Bucky. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” He smiled. “No offence, but you do look a lot better.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, the three of you sat at the table, you turned to Brooklyn. “How was your first day of school?”

“It was so fun.” She smiled.

“That's great.” You told her, Bucky pulled his phone out to show you the pictures and videos you smiled. “Well I got a surprise for you both.”

Brooklyn's eyes widened. “What?”

“You're gonna be a big sister.” You told her.

“R-really?” Bucky asked you.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “The doctor was concerned about it at first, thought what I drank that night affected/harmed it, but it didn’t luckily, also what I did she was concerned the baby didn’t get enough blood, but it was fine, after the blood I had received.” You explained to Bucky. “I’ve been pregnant for a little while.” You pulled the shirt tighter around your stomach, there was a little bit of a stomach. “Can’t lift up my shirt, they'll think I'm trying to do something.”

“Are you okay here, ‘cause if you're not I can pull you.” Bucky told you.

You shook your head. “I’m fine here, they said that if I keep doing good I can get out soon.”

“That's grated, um I wanna let you know my mom is staying with me till you get out. If that's alright, I just need the extra help.” He told you.

“Bucky of course if you need help you can always ask for help from anyone.” You told him.

“You are scarily calm about this.” He said. “Yeah I know you're okay with my mom at least but still..” He led on.

“It’s probably my medicine, antidepressant, there ones that won't affect the baby, so the doctor said that they could make me drowsy, or sometimes way too happy/hyper.” You explained. “I know at first I thought it was weird too, but I’m fine.”

“Okay? Well I gotta deal with a few things, call me if you need anything.” He told you.

You nodded. “I will, love you.” You turned to Brooklyn. “Love you baby girl.” You kissed the top of her head. “See you next time.” She waved to you, you waved back, the guard came out, and led you into the institution.

“Cute kid.” He said.

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Bucky led Brooklyn out of the building, and to the cars. “Mommy was acting weird.” She said.

Bucky cringed. “Yeah, just a little.” They walked into the mansion, Bucky sighed as he walked through the door.

“What happened? How's Y/n?” Winnifred asked.

“She’s better and pregnant its just the medicine she’s on is making her all wired.” He told her.

“Pregnant? James you’ve gotta get her out of there if she’s pregnant, it’s not gonna be healthy for the baby, and they probably don’t have her on just antidepressant, sometimes they have to use pentobarbital to make her drowsy if she attempts something, um anxiety medication too if she has anxiety, plus whatever they put in the food.” She told him making his mind go haywire.

“How do you know all of this?” He asked her.

“I never told you what I was before I met your dad?” She asked.

Bucky shook his head. “I walkway just thought you were a waitress or something.”

She frowned. “I thought I raised you better, No I was a nurse in an institute one like the one Y/n is in. I know all the shit they do there.”

“Dad said you met at a bar.” He said.

“You think doctors and nurses don’t go to bars? You are an idiot.” Winnifred rolled her eyes. “Anyways you gotta pull her out, and see if the therapist can still do meetings with her outside of the facility.”

“I think I should go talk to the therapist.” He told her.

“Do what you think you need to do.” She told him.

After sitting on it for a couple of days Bucky decided to go to the hospital, he got to the check in desk. “I would like to talk to Y/n Y/l/n's therapist.”

“And who are you to, Miss. Y/l/n?” The lady asked.

“I’m her fiancé, I’m also the one who got her to agree to be admitted.” Bucky told them.

“I think I can get you in.” They told her.

After waiting a few minutes, Bucky was led to an office. “Mr. Barnes, Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

“Hi, I was wondering, do you think we could pull Y/n?” He asked.

Her brows furrowed. “Why? I-I mean Y/n’s come far from where she was when she first came in and it’s only been two weeks and a half.”

“I want her pulled because I don’t think it’s what’s best for the baby, also when I came here last week, she was acting weird. It's because of her antidepressants I wanted to pull her, but I wanted to have her still see you, so she was still getting help. I'll pay you as much as you want.”

The therapist's jaw clenched and unclenched. “Mr. Barnes I assure you whatever she’s on is meant to help her and keep the baby safe.”

“I still want her pulled. I want you and her to still have regular meetings together.” He told her.

“I refuse to still do meetings with her, if you pull her.” She told him.

“I would prefer you since she already knows you, but since you won't I can find someone else.” He told her, then he walked out of the office, he went to the main office where he’d pull you. Once he signed the papers you soon came down.

“Bucky?” You asked. “Why did you pull me?”

“I’ll explain in the car.” He told you.

You got in the passenger seat, Bucky started the car. “So explain.”

“My mom used to work at a place like that and said it wasn’t good for the baby.” Bucky told you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“She got in my head, and said that it wasn’t safe for the baby.” He told you. “And I’m gonna get a good therapist for you.”

“It’s my antidepressants isn’t it, you don’t like how I act on them don’t you?” You asked.

“No I don't, it freaked me and Brooklyn out about it.” He told you.

“Alright.” You nodded. “But what if I go back to acting like I was before, I want something, I don’t wanna be like that again for Brooklyn...and you, and the baby.”

“I promise.” Bucky told you.

Once you pulled up in front of the mansion, Bucky let you out so he could park the car, you walked inside where you found Sam, Winnifred and Brooklyn in the living room. “Mommy, your back!” Brooklyn hugged you.

“Hey baby girl.” You hugged her. “Thank you Winnifred for being here with Bucky and helping with Brooklyn.”

“Hi, James wasn’t lying when he said your medicine made you weird, before you would never say thank you to me.” Winnifred said to you.

“Sorry, that i’ve never said it to you before, Brooklyn you wanna go to Wanda’s?” You asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Who’s Wanda?” Winnifred asked.

“A friend.” You shrugged.

Sam got up. “You know I gotta go.”

“Come on, Win you wanna go?” You were invited.

She looked at you with concern at the fact that you called her a nickname.“Do I?” She asked.

Sam surged. “It's a cute little diner, you’ll probably like it.” He told Winnifred.

“Alright.” She said.

Bucky came in. “What's going on?”

“We're going to Wanda’s.” You told him. “You should come.”

“Yeah, your medicine has fucked you up, if you think Wanda would let me go into her diner.” Bucky said.

“Well if you don’t wanna go you don’t have to.” You shrugged.

The four of you went to Wanda’s where you sat, at a large booth. “A lot of guests.” Wanda said. “Also where the hell have you been?”

“Get our food then I’ll explain in the back.” You told her.

Sam and Winnifred ordered, then you went to the back with her to tell her. “Explain.” She demanded.

You rolled up your sleeves. “Bucky convinced me to go to a facility to get better today. I got pulled out, also I’m pregnant.”

“Why wouldn’t you come to me!” She yelled at you. “I would have talked you out of that, tell Barnes I say thank you, for convincing you to go to that facility, also congrats.”

“That was an explosion of emotion.” You said. “I’m fine, promise.”

[bubblyhoney]

soundtrack

warnings: sailor language, suggestive themes/mentions of sex, drinking, nicotine use, being tipsy/intoxicated. no graphic or explicit nsfw content besides basically tonguing and giving hickeys and an ass grab.

tags: karl jacobs x fem!reader

words: 1898

A/N: i wrote this thinking that both people in this fic are of drinking age; i’m not, but i thought it would be a cool idea. i can assume many adult gatherings feature alcohol, so yeah. drinking isn’t integral to the plot of this fic. also it is pre-(or post)pandemic bc it’s just a general rule of thumb to not have parties right now.

-

“Don’t, kill, me,” Karl warbles, setting down his bottle with a sigh. Freaks plays loud and tinny on the TV, album cover bathing those occupying the couch in a grayish light. Those occupants being just you and Karl. The room is lit with purple string lights and that one thrifted lamp with frogs on the shade he’d sworn was the best purchase he’s ever made. You’re sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, ankles crossed and a can of vodka seltzer swaying in your hand. The song changes to 20 Min by Lil Uzi and your foot bounces to the beat.

“What time is it?” You sigh, placing the nearly-empty can onto the coffee table next to your apple berry-flavored pen. He flicks his wrist towards his face.

“2:46,” he delivers, and takes a swig of the Angry Orchard in his hand. His sixth, specifically. The rest of the group had left roughly ten minutes ago, leaving the two loneliest people to drink alone. You, thoroughly tipsy, decided it was better to spend the night on his spare than pay $50 for an Uber. He agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t he?

Lifting onto your elbows, you just stare at him. He lifts an ankle to cross over the other and your eyes drop. What is his fascination with Spongebob socks?

“We should play 20 questions.”

“What?” His head swivels like a bobblehead and a giggle barely escapes your lips.

“20 questions!” You say excitedly, heaving onto your knees to look at him earnestly. “You go first.”

“Um, okay.” The song fades into Paper Planes and he bobs his head to the beat. “What’s your favorite breed of dog?”

“Shiba inu. Are you a virgin?”

The fucking tone of your voice makes him dissolve into giggles, hand pressed to his chest. You just shrug, reaching for the pen in the table. “Fair question, I think,” you say defensively. His chest heaves, but he sits up.

“No—no, I’m not a virgin.” His cheeks are red, but he’s smiling like it was an easy answer. Your mind floods with images of his long hair in your face, long fingers—a sweaty chest. You shake your head. “Okay, my turn,” he continues, giving you a weird look. “would you rather kiss Chucky Cheese or Ronald McDonald?”

“Karl!” You whine. “That is not how 20 Questions works!” You grumpily pull from your pen, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Eughk. Apple berry sucks.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. The tell-tale guitar chords of The Adults Are Talking floods the room and his face brightens with a new question. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Yes, actually. The Jonas Brothers in 2009.” He wrinkles his nose, finishing his cider and dropping it onto the coffee table with a sharp noise. Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you dare badmouth my boys.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” He reaches for your pen and you give it to him with a slight pout on your lips that he glances at.

“Good. Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” A grin climbs your lips.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His eyes widen and smoke curls out of his nostrils as he hands your pen back. You just shrug and pick up your discarded seltzer. “Gimme a sec to think.”

“So many places?” You tease, finishing the last drop of your drink and crushing it beneath your palm. He shrugs, mirroring you, and cracks open another cider. He seems to think, brows furrowing, as he pulls a swig from the dark bottle.

“Boat.”

“Boat,” you repeat.

“Yup.” He looks at you, gaze flickering to your lips imperceptibly fast. If you were sober you’d probably notice, but you’re not and you don’t.

“You’ve fucked on a boat?” No way. Karl Jacobs. On a boat. Having sex. What an image—

“Yeah, senior year was great for me.” More Than A Woman fills the space of the silence as you consider this. You blink, processing.

“Whose boat?” You're genuinely curious. Was it a yacht, pontoon, fishing boat? Row boat? The sudden scene of him getting his foot stuck in a fishing net while pantless clouds your vision.

“My girlfriend’s.” And that’s that on that because he’s moving on before you can open your mouth and continue the discussion of the logistics of this. “Stop investigating, perv. Now it’s my turn. Hmm— wait! Where is the weirdest place you have had sex?” A sneaky grin is on his lips and now you just want to kiss him, damn it.

“I-Uh. I think it was under the bleachers. I also had a great senior year,” you offer, scooting forward on your knees so that you’re only a foot from Karl. He looks impressed, actually.

“Who was it?”

Your eyebrow raises in question.

“Personal question or one of the 16 left, Karl?”

His cheeks heat and he looks once to the TV.

“Personal,” he mutters into the mouth of his bottle.

“It was Brian Hernandez,” you sigh, gazing off into the distance with a fond look in your eyes. You feel the end of the game of 20 questions as you see him chew on his bottom lip from your peripheral. “Dude was insatiable. Managed girls’ basketball and looked damn good doing it.”

“I managed girls’ soccer,” he says simply, uncrossing his legs. “My girlfriend was goalie.”

“How long did you guys date?” You fold your legs up underneath you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You feel the most sober now out of all tonight.

“Dunno.” He sips at his cider. “Couple weeks maybe?”

You smirk. “Karl Jacobs puts out in the first couple weeks?” That’s hot, you don’t say. He gives you a look. “18 year old Karl was a player,” you tease, leaning forward to poke at his chest.

Smacking your hand away, he sighs and lifts a hand to tousle his hair.

“Guess he was.” Clear eyes meet yours and you take a hit from the pen that lays discarded in your palm. He watches the smoke float from your mouth. The TV screen swipes to Deceptacon and the mood quickly shifts. “So.” He turns toward you with lifted eyebrows. “You were a total nerd in highschool, huh.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!”

“Come on; yes, you were.” He makes a face and drains half the bottle of cider. “You probably were in SpellBowl and every teacher’s pet.”

“Nice try, bitch. You were a dumb jock. I’ve seen the pictures. The yearbook pictures.” You look pointedly at his hair.

“My hair was not that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and pushes his hand through his long curls. “Just a little… short.” It’s your turn to make a face.

“A buzz cut nearly to your scalp is more than short.” He huffs at you and finishes the cider just as the song switches. “Anyways.” You don’t really have anything to say, actually. Too busy thinking about teenage Karl smacking tennis rackets around and fielding lost soccer balls for his girlfriend. She’s long gone, right?

“Are you wearing lingerie?” Karl asks suddenly and you look up. He stares pointedly at your chest and you move a hand to pat at your stomach.

“Oh,” you start, and flick the last three buttons open, fabric falling to reveal a baby blue lace corset. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to stop imagining what’s underneath it. Fuck. “Do you like it?” The tone in your voice is taunting and he has to look away.

He clears his throat and places the second glass bottle onto the coffee table.

“Yes.”

You rise onto your knees and pull your arms out of the button-up, letting it fall back on the couch.

“Do you want to touch it?” You're looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, he realizes, and you know exactly what you’re doing. You’re not asking if he wants to touch the corset; you’re asking if he wants to touch you.

“Can I?” He glances at you warily. You just nod, and it’s then that you’re shuffling forward. The material is soft on his fingertips when he brushes a hand across your torso. “Silk,” he mumbles, and stares, transfixed, at the loopy flower pattern crawling across your waist in shades of milky blue. You just hum and watch. He realizes suddenly when he traces a finger up on the ridge of the neckline that you’re not wearing anything underneath it. It makes him stop in his tracks, neck flushing. “Are-are you—,”

“Wearing a bra? No, I’m not.” You lay a hand on his shoulder, hoisting one leg over his thighs and settling down comfortable on his lap. He bristles then relaxes as you slide a hand up into his scalp. “Do you want me to show you?”

He glares at you, barely annoyed, and shifts so that his large hands rest in the curve of your waist. Poison starts in the speakers as his eyebrow raises.

“Do you normally wear corsets when we all hang out?” A lock of your hair moves past your cheek as he brushes it out of the way. His mouth tilts into a smirk. You seem to think about it, lips pursed, and grip both his shoulders in your hands.

“Only when I’ve got someone to impress.” A hand on your lower back presses insistently and you fall further into his lap.

“Who are you here to impress, Y/N?” He’s barely an inch from your mouth now, and can’t seem to keep his eyes on one part of your face. Cool breath fans onto your cheeks and they warm. God, he’s even cuter up close.

“You,” barely passes your lips before he’s taking the side of your neck into his hand and stretching to connect your lips with his own.

Cherry, you think. Cherry chapstick, that cheeky bastard. Taking your wrist in his hand, he loops it up and around his neck. You’re making a noise into his mouth, you realize, right as he’s sliding a hand down to the side of your thigh and gripping it between his long fingers. You shiver as he pulls away too soon, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before sinking his teeth into your neck. The gasp that leaves your mouth is surprisingly loud and your cheeks flush further. He just hums, pleased, and stretches an arm to the opposite side of your waist to hug you closer. Warm lips move on the skin of your neck and his tongue darts out few and far between the kisses.

“Fuck,” he breathes when your hips jerk forward once.

“Sorry,” you whisper up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut. “reflex.”

He grins against your neck and moves to grip an ass cheek in his palm.

“Your reflex to me licking a hickey is to grind into my crotch?” he teases. You just have to nod, lips parted, as he soothes another bruise with his tongue.

“Karl.” He seems to either not hear you or ignore you for he’s removing himself from your neck and connecting your mouths once more. “Karl,” you stutter between kisses, and he squeezes at your ass.

“Yes?” His lips are bitten and puffy when he pulls away, a smug look on his beautiful face.

“Take off my corset.”

He looks between your face and the lingerie, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comment what you think !

[amintyworld]

Child of The Dome (SBI Rust Server)

Platonic Wilbur Soot x Reader and Tommyinnit x Reader. We got Dadbur and Big Broinnit... It’s all about the found family, folks!

A/N: *Gets a SBI Rust fic idea* *Looks up to see its not written and no one is interested in writing it* *Realizing YOU’RE the one who can write it into existence* As a reminder, this is all RP - THE RUST SERVER HAS LORE, GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS! Also, reader is gender neutral. Enjoy! - Minty

TW: Murder, Major Character Death (Kind of, they can respawn?), Religious Themes, Cult-like behavior, Kidnapping, Cannibalism, Cursing, child abuse (?), shooting/gun violence, sickness. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Thunder and lightning roared outside of the Dome Church as Wilbur and Tommy sat inside, continuing their sermon to a few others despite the weather conditions. Just a few hours earlier, Sofa had objected when the rain began to leak through the roof, and was promptly locked outside as punishment, which seemed to quickly quiet a few complaints from the others. “Now, my people, you shall not live in fear of the storm for the Dome will protect all who preach and live its word!” Wilbur said, standing at the podium. “Persevere and the Dome will reward you!”

Murmurs of agreement seemed to sweep through the crowd as their feet shivered - bare, wet and cold. They rose to their feet slowly as Iamty began to play the piano and they hummed along with the tune, their spirits beginning to be lifted. Water seeped into their clothes and chills ran down their spine but nonetheless they stood as Seepeekay, the known Minister, began his prepared speech over the music. Tommy walked through the aisle, holding out a basket for donations as the churchgoers threw whatever they could think to offer inside. 

Suddenly a loud knock came from the door - panicked and urgent.

Wilbur grumbled at the interruption, weaving his way through the crowd and opening the door. “Sofa, you have to relearn the Dome’s ways before you can-'' Words died on his lips as Sophie looked to Wilbur worried, a small bundle in her arms. The baby’s cries blended with the thunder and lightning from above, and Wilbur’s eyes scanned the child’s in curiosity.

“Wilbur, I found them outside near the Dome, they’re freezing cold I dunno what to-!” Wilbur’s mind whirred as it began to put the pieces together, frozen in place and not knowing exactly what to do next. Tommy rushed up next to Wilbur, asking what was going on until his gaze landed on the baby as well. “...Wilbur?”

At this, Wilbur’s body quickly snapped to attention, taking the child from Sophie and turning, closing the door shut behind him and keeping Sophie outside. The baby’s eyes glimmered in the light of the torches, their hair a matted and muddy mess padded flat in a circular shape - a dome like shape, if you will. Slowly, he raised his hand to caress the child’s cheek, a fondness beginning to grow in his heart as their cries slowed to a stop, looking up to him in wonder. A loving smile stretched across his face as he booped their nose, sending them into a fit of laughter. Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but begin to melt at the baby’s smile. He held them close, his own body warmth beginning to warm their small freezing body.

“The storm! It’s stopping!” Pebble shouted as he looked outside, noticing the sun begin to poke through the clouds as the raindrops began to slow.

“Messiah, I believe I have witnessed a miracle today.” Wilbur called as everyone turned to look at him. “This child… this child has stopped the storm, they have stopped the storm for they are a child of the Dome itself. The Dome has spared us for helping one of its own.” Wilbur held up the baby for the congregation to see. “This baby is a miracle and a blessing, a gift of the Dome to us, a gift we must not take lightly.”

“What are we going to do with it?” Scott asked. “Can we- should we just... take them back to the Dome?”

Wilbur couldn’t help the pang of selfishness that came over him at the suggestion. “Take the child back? Slop, the great Dome does not make a mistake. It has given us great gifts and now it’s given us this baby, and you want to rid yourself of them? Shameful! We shall embrace this opportunity, this gift. We’ll make them part of our great family.” Wilbur said, going back to the podium and cradling the child close in his arms. “Since I found them, I’ll look after them.” He moved to press his forehead against the baby’s as the rest of the church looked on in interest. “I dub thee… Dirt.” Wilbur smiled as the congregation erupted in applause.

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

Tommy at first objected to adding another person in their already cramped house, but eventually, though he wouldn’t admit it, he became attached to the kid as the months passed. On a particular cold winter day, your crib was stationed by the fireplace, Wilbur out gathering food and supplies. Tommy had one mission and one mission only - to teach you your first swear.

“Come on, it’s not hard. Just say ‘fuck’. You can do it.” Tommy encouraged as you sat in your crib and looked at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. Your small hands reached out toward him.

“Twoh-towh!” You babbled with a smile, and Tommy’s heart melted at the nickname as he sighed fondly.

“Yeah, Tom-Tom.” He agreed, as you reached toward him, wanting to be let out as he carefully picked you up and held you in his arms. Your hands found their way into his hair as they pulled and played with it, squealing happily. “You really like my hair, don’t you?” He asked, amused until you pulled a bit too hard, making the teenager wince in pain, quickly bringing you back down to sit in his lap. “Okay, you played with my hair for a little while, can you say ‘fuck’ now?” You looked confused, moving to pick up a small pebble on the ground instead. “Dirt, I know you can do it, okay?” He moved you so you sat facing him again, and you huffed slightly at the loss of your pebble. “Say ‘fuck’. Like this: ‘ffff-uck’.” He said slower, as if that could possibly do anything to help. Your head tilted again, confused at why Tommy looked so disgruntled at his wasted efforts. He sighed in defeat, moving to put you back in your crib again.

Anger bubbled inside your chest - you didn’t want to be put back in the crib, you wanted to play. “F...FWOA!” You shouted, making Tommy’s eyes glimmer with hope.

“That’s closer, come on, you can do it, Dirt-!” He said, pausing and holding you in mid-air.

Beginning to put the pieces together, you realized that saying the word will keep you from being put back in the crib. Determined, your mind whirred as it looked to Tommy in curiosity. “Fwok…?”

“Almost there, you almost got it…” Tommy encouraged. “Say ‘fuck’.”

“Fffwok, Fuok… fuck!” You managed after a few tries, and Tommy’s eyes brightened with glee.

“Yes, Dirt. Fuck.”

“Fuck!” You repeated, smiling as Tommy once again smiled, bringing you back to the floor. “Fuck.”

The excitement of the exchange slowly made you grow tired as Tommy shifted, leaning against the wall as you began to drift off against his chest, a tiny fistful of his shirt in your hand. Snow began to fall outside, quickly turning into a snowstorm. Feeling tired and not wanting to disturb the sleeping being on his stomach, Tommy slowly began to drift off, leaning against the wall. Only an hour later Wilbur burst into the scene, firmly closing the door behind himself and carrying three large bundles of wood. He looked around, pulling off the scarf around his face and internally awwing at the sight - Big Brother Tommy, who would have thought? Tommy’s hands never moved from supporting you against his chest, worried about you falling over. Not wanting to disturb the siblings, he quietly shed his snow-covered gear, grabbing a blanket and pulling it up around Tommy’s sleeping form, ruffling his hair slightly and carefully talking you from Tommy’s grasp. Your Dad quickly settled you back in your crib, giving your forehead a soft kiss.

“Goodnight, you two.”

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

You slowly awoke in the warm arms of someone, outside in the snow, and your three-year-old body shivered. Where was Dad? Dad always was there, if not Tommy, so where was he? You looked up to see a hooded figure with jet black hair and blue eyes. Whoever it was, that was not Dad or Tom-Tom, and you began to cry, getting scared and wanting to see them again. Tears ran down your cheeks as the hooded teenager looked panicked. “Shh, shh… please, you’ve gotta be quiet-”

“WA-BA!” You cried, failing your body as you wailed, crying more. 

“Uh, I…” He said, not exactly knowing how to handle the situation. “It’s okay, it’s okay! I know Wilbur, I know your Dad, okay? I’m… I’m taking you right to him, just please stop crying…” He begged. Your body shivered as you sniffled, and let out a sneeze. “Dammit, I told you to stop crying…” He cursed, pulling you closer to his cloak to keep you warm. “Just hold tight, we’re almost there.”

“Wa-ba... “ You sniffed, and the teen’s face shifted into one of… guilt?

“Fucking christ Wilbur what are you doing with a kid-?!” He mumbled to himself, frustrated. “All I wanted to do was check inside and leave, but no.. of fucking course you have a kid-!” You quickly approached a large house of sorts as your captor took a deep breath in front of the door, looking down at you. “Hey, it’s okay. If it goes well, you won’t feel any pain.” He nervously smiled, before looking into your eyes as the smile quickly fell. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? It’s not exactly like I have much of a choice here. If I didn’t return with you, they’d…” He trailed off, before slightly shaking his head of thoughts, pushing the door open and stepping inside. After a few tries, he firmly pulled the door shut, carrying you closer inside and next to a small fireplace that dimly lit the room. “Guys, I’m back. I got the kid.”

Your eyes filled with fear as two figures seemingly appeared from the shadows, smiling and wide-eyed. You quickly drove your face to hide in your captor’s cloak. One with blonde hair and brown eyes reached out toward you slowly, making you retreat further into your captor’s cloaked embrace. “I can’t believe the rumors are true.” The other spoke - much shorter than the other two members, with brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, sporting a green poncho. “The famous ‘Child of the Dome’.” He turned to your cloaked captor. “Much trouble with the wall, Krinios?”

“No, that special ax you gave me worked like a charm,” Krinios replied. Your eyes were fixated on the shorter man’s, noticing how similar to Tommy he looked - they were probably the same age - but something wasn’t right with his eyes. They looked cold and inviting, the light went from where it once had brought warmth and life to the teen - different from the curious scheming brightness of Tommy’s, or how your Dad’s eyes seemed to fill with laughter and love all the time. You didn’t like any of this one bit, you wanted to be back home in Wilbur’s embrace as he’d hum a lullaby, rocking you back and forth to get you to sleep. Not in this room filled with hungry stares and eyes locked onto your body like a wolf’s.

“Come on, little one… I just want to play a game.” The blond one ushered, and you shook your head ‘no’ violently, clinging onto Krinios’s arm tightly, not daring to let go.

“What’s… what’s going on here?” The shorter one asked, gesturing to the scene. “Did they imprint on you or something?”

“Look - I dunno Tubbo,” Krinios admitted, holding up his hands in a sort of surrender. “Maybe they got sick in the cold, they were crying a lot.”

“And you didn’t stuff a sock in their mouth?” The blonde one’s eyes stared down at Krinios’s intently. “I told you we needed the little shit quiet, what if someone heard you?!”

“It’s a baby, Hycei!” Krinios snapped, and Hycei’s mouth turned into a thin line.

“Good god, you feel sympathetic for it…” The blonde groaned before snatching you up forcefully as you let out a wail, grabbing for Krinios desperately. “This is the only way to send a clear message to that freak of a cult that calls itself a church, not to mention Wilbur. We show them what happens when they decide to fuck with us. If we don’t get even now they’ll just keep thinking they can get away with doing whatever they want to us because we won’t fight back.”

“It’s an eye for an eye, Krinios - for all the times they’ve killed us, taken our stuff… they’re bullies, Krinios. Bullies that won’t stop unless we fight back, and Fort Kickass isn’t cowards. Sometimes when you’re the bad guy, Krinios, the only way to fight fire is with fire. Besides,” Tubbo asked, his lips curling in a smile as he unsheathed his knife. “You wanted to try flesh right off the bone, right?” As Tubbo came toward you, you squirmed and tried to wail before Hycei clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your sound.

“Wait… wait wait wait!” Krinios snapped to action as he thickly swallowed, getting between you and the knife. “What if the kid’s so sick, it affects the flesh? What if we get sick from it?” Tubbo’s cold eyes shifted from his friend’s to the knife in his hand. “I think we should just give it a day or two, you know… maybe this one isn’t the one to try out the new style of flesh thing. Maybe we shouldn’t change perfection, you know what I’m saying?”

“We’ve eaten rotten flesh, I think we’ll be immune to whatever they might have.” Tubbo responded, rolling his eyes. “Don’t forget that those Dome People killed you in cold blood.”

“Aren’t we doing the same thing?” He asked, as the other two’s faces filled with irritation, getting annoyed.

“We’re surviving, Krinios. If you haven’t noticed because of our ‘reputation’ on this server I haven’t eaten in days. I’m hungry.” Hycei said coldly. “Now isn’t the time to be taking the moral high road - do you want to not starve to death?!”

As Krinios hesitated, Tubbo shoved him aside as he approached. “We don’t have time for this.” He huffed, pulling your arm roughly and looking to Hycei. “Hold ‘em still.” You became hysterical, tears flowing freely down your face in panic and wanting to be as far away from that sharp object as possible. As it pressed down and began to cut you let out a shriek in agony as blood and pain overwhelmed your senses, and you bit down on Hycei’s hand, making them retract it and nearly drop you in the process.

He looked pissed. “Why you little-!” Within seconds, pain once again blossomed in your head, your vision swimming with tears. You wanted Dad, you wanted Tom-Tom, you wanted the pain to go away… Whimpering in pain, you curled in on yourself. Your prayers seemed to be quickly answered as the door burst open with two very ticked-off family members you recognized instantly. Wilbur pointed his gun directly at Tubbo’s head as the room began to build with tension, the two leaders just staring at each other. 

“Wilbur.” Tubbo said cooly, putting his bloodied knife back in its sheath.

“Tubbo.” Wilbur growled through his teeth. “Where are they? Where’s Dirt?!”

“Oh, is that what you decided to call them?” Tubbo asked, crossing his arms. “Or did your Dome God decide on it?”

“You’ve crossed the fucking line, Tubbo.” Tommy growled, his ax at the ready. “Dirt didn’t do jack shit to you.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Tubbo spat. “Being a part of your sick cult is enough for me. Even so, you can’t blame a leader trying to feed his people, can you? That’s all this is - survival of the fittest. Getting revenge on both of you, well… that’s just a bonus.”

“You’re a sick freak.” 

“You’re a scamming cultist.” Tubbo retorted, moving to take you from Hycei’s arms. “Question is, who’s worse?”

“Wa-Ba…” You sniffled as Wilbur moved closer, before Tubbo quickly pressed his knife up against your throat.

“Not another step.” Seeing this, Tubbo pointed his gun at Tubbo’s head, though the cannibal leader seemed unphased. “Kill me and I’ll kill them as soon as the bullet leaves the muzzle.”

“Bulllshit.” Tommy angrily shouted, moving forward next to Wil.

“Do you really want to take that risk?”

Wilbur breathed as his mind whirred to try to think of some kind of solution, his gun trained on Tubbo. “Tommy, get ready.”

“What’s it gonna be, Wilbur Soot?”

Quickly, he shot Tubbo in the leg, making him fall and lose his grip on you as Tommy rushed forward, snatching you up and kicking Tubbo in the face as he tried to grab you back. Hycei, on the other hand, rushed toward Wilbur, as the two fought and eventually Wilbur shot him in the arm, then quickly turned to train his gun at Krinios who held up his hands in surrender. When Tommy saw your injuries it broke his heart as he ripped off a bit of cloth and wrapped it around your arm wound temporarily, wrapping your body in warm blankets. He dried your tears as he rushed back towards Wilbur. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“You got what you wanted, just leave.” Krinios begged as Wilbur’s gun stayed trained on him. Wilbur, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him, handed the gun to Tommy as Tommy handed you off to your Dad, who carefully ran his hand through your hair, bringing you close and not planning on letting you out of his arms any time soon. 

“You scared me, oh god I thought I lost you…” Wilbur whispered. “It’s okay, it’s all okay now, I’m right here, I’m right here. Shh…” Your hands gripped his shirt and you buried your face in it, feeling comforted by his familiar scent of pine and burnt oak. Your body shook with fear as Wilbur ran his hand along your back in comfort as he turned toward the door. His gentle voice turned cold as he looked toward Tommy, his gun still trained on Krinios. Anger and sadness overwhelmed his heart as he looked upon the one who took you away from him, who tried to take you to your death. Vengeance never tasted so sweet. “Kill him.”

Krinios’s eyes widened. “Wait, wait wait let’s talk about this-!”

Tommy didn’t hesitate as Krinios’s body slumped to the floor as the two made their way back toward the entrance of Fort Kickass. Tubbo sat against the wall, breathing heavily from the pain, glaring at both of them. “This isn’t over.”

“You said you wanted to feed your people, I believe I just provided you with food.” Wilbur shot behind him as he walked toward the entrance. “As for Dirt, if you so much as lay a finger on them I won’t hesitate to take all of you out for good. I wonder who will revive you then.” His eyes glanced over the cannibal leader, making sure Tubbo knew he wasn’t bluffing. “Goodbye, Tubbo.”

[buckyswinterbaby]

Rule Number Four — Oneshot **

Pairing: softdom!Bucky Barnes x reader

Synopsis: Bucky returns home early from a mission to find the reader in a compromising position. Rules are broken and new ones are made.

Warnings: language, smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), fluffy ending, softdom!Bucky, daddy kink (not ddlg), reader is submissive, nipple play, orgasm denial, metal arm kink, fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation and a size kink (if you squint), aftercare, established relationship, masturbation.

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Word Count: 2,291

Note: Here’s my first attempt at actually posting an “x reader” or smut fic so please be gentle with her. This was based on a post I saw a bit ago about submissives masturbating while wearing their dom’s hoodie, so I thought I’d give it a go. I hope you guys enjoy!

You had become his wife nearly three months ago and this was the longest stretch you had been apart since.

Even before marriage, the two of you were practically inseparable. You were often found curled on his inviting lap with two arms circled around you, one flesh and one metal, holding you tightly to his chest. To say you had missed the comfort of his warm embrace would be the understatement of the year. It was more like you had been lost without it.

His arms were far from the only thing you missed about your soldier. Before his departure, Bucky had listed off a few rules to follow in his absence. Possibly enjoying your long standing dominant and submissive dynamic a bit more than he was willing let on in that moment.

Rule one: No touching yourself without permission. Cruel but simple enough.

Rule two: No orgasms. Bucky knew you too well to believe you wouldn’t find a loophole that didn’t involve dipping those delicate fingers between your folds.

Rule three, possibly the worst of the set, which was likely his intention: Nipple play, at least once a day. He wanted your delicious buds oversensitive and aching by the time he found his way home to you. While your cunt was left thoroughly neglected and needing his touch.

It was that one rule, one single command that had you breaking all the rest. You had held out for nearly his entire time away, only crumbling when you went to fulfill the rule one last time, the anticipation of his return clouding your senses.

You had intended to do as he said. You laid yourself out on the large bed that had felt overwhelmingly cold and lonely without him, clothed in nothing but his oversized sweatshirt that adorned the S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the front. Perhaps that was your first mistake, opting to forgo the panties you had been wearing the entire day. Leaving your dripping core exposed to the night air with your husband still, as you believed, across the world and unable to claim it.

Your delicate fingers traced the familiar path up the length of your torso, trailing along the valley between your soft breasts that Bucky so often spent his time worshiping. The hem of the sweatshirt rode up more and more as your hand made its way up. A flame flickered in the pit of your belly as you found your hardening nipples, the cool metal of your wedding ring ghosting over. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Bucky’s hand in place of your’s. The cold and unyielding vibranium working your body into fits of pleasure.

It was that thought that had your other hand trailing down instead of up, finding its way to the apex of your thighs. One finger wouldn’t hurt, you surmised. Though that one quickly led to two with a thumb working furiously on your throbbing clit.

Bucky heard your soft moans before he even approached the door, a wide grin spreading across his face. He was home hours earlier than anticipated, a fact he was suddenly so very grateful for. After another moment of listening, he heard the gentle string of gasps you would always release in pleasure, an undeniable sign that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

His interest was thoroughly peaked as he quietly slipped his way into the barely lit bedroom, drinking in the sight of you spread out before him like a man dying of dehydration.

“Y/n,” he called out, alerting you to his presence. Bucky licked his lips as he zeroed in on your now stilled hand, fingers slick and deep within you.

You knew better than to remove them, he’d tell you if that was what he wanted. Your breasts heaved as you breathed out, waiting for him to say something or act, you’d take anything over the silence that now hung in the air between you.

In two steps, Bucky crossed the distance and now stood at the foot of the bed. “I gave you three rules, doll, just three. Thought I’d be nice and make em’ simple for you. Seems you can’t even do that right, can you?”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you called out, your voice sounding more like a pathetic whimper than actual words. You tried to go on and explain how you had tried to be good but Bucky quickly cut you off. You honestly couldn’t remember even making the decision to ignore the rule.

“Don’t bother trying to apologize now.” His metal hand trailed up your thigh as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Slowly making his way up until he swatted your hand away, not failing to notice how visibly damp the sleeve of the hoodie now was. “You’ve made your bed, baby girl. I think it’s about time you had to lay in it.”

Your walls clenched down, now feeling empty without anything inside. That feeling didn’t last long as Bucky dipped a metal finger between your lips, gathering the arousal you had so eagerly coaxed out only minutes before. He didn’t waste another moment before pushing in two thick fingers, quickly setting a punishing pace as they curled around to rub your g-spot with each pump.

Your back arched off the bed as he drove you to the brink of release in what seemed like a matter of seconds, skilled hands doing what took you at least a few minutes. It was easy to get lost in these moments with the man you loved and trusted without question. Never hesitating to give over control to your husband as you let yourself fall further into the pleasure he was providing. And boy were you truly lost, at least until the pleasure stopped as his fingers stilled inside you, continuing to ever so gently rub that special spot he could find all too easily.

You looked over at him in surprise as your building orgasm quickly dissipated. “Bucky?”

“Patience. You’ve got a few questions to answer first.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your huff of annoyance. “Was this the first time you broke rule number one while I was gone? You better be honest with me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to form an understandable sentence as his thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles against your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily against his ministrations, he didn't seem angry, though.

“Did you break number two?” he questioned, his free hand roaming up to tease your sensitive nipples, purposefully giving the right one more attention than the other just to drive you nuts.

It took a few more seconds for you to compose yourself enough to speak. “I didn’t,” you moaned out, throwing your head back after a particularly hard pinch to the right nipple.

“Not for a lack of trying, it seems.”

A dark blush crept onto your already flushed cheeks. “I wanted to, daddy. I needed to. I followed rule three the entire time and I just couldn’t take it anymore.” You knew Bucky’s dominant side loved a lusty confession. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t trying to butter him up into finally allowing your release. If you only knew how much you’d end up regretting that wish.

“I left you alone too long, didn’t I? Your greedy little pussy isn’t used to not getting what she wants. And I think I know just the punishment to remind you that when you cum, how much you cum isn’t your decision.” You nearly came around his fingers then and there, which likely wouldn’t do much to fix your predicament besides providing momentary relief. “So you’ll get your orgasm, baby. Then you’ll take every other one I can give you and you’ll say thank you for being so generous. Scream it, even. Loud enough that Steve feels like he needs to go to confession.”

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, goosebumps rising up behind the path of his flesh hand as it found its way to rest on your lower stomach. “How many?” You recognized that you should likely be afraid of his answer, but honestly nothing could prepare you for the reality.

Bucky seemed to debate the question for a moment before meeting your gaze, giving you the playful smirk you had fallen in love with some five odd years ago. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I haven’t decided yet. You’ll know when I’m done with you.”

His thrusts had been relentless for what seemed like hours, maybe it actually had been that long, you honestly couldn’t keep track. Orgasms blurred together as he used his super soldier endurance and sex drive to deliver the punishment he promised and then some.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him closer to your sweat covered body as he continued to rut up against your abused sex, riding you through your most recent release.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from how sensitive you had become, the multiple orgams and brutal pace allowing you no mercy. His thumb swept away a fallen tear before it could run down your cheek, his swollen lips capturing your’s in a far more passionate and intimate kiss than the others you had received throughout the night. Everything seemed to soften after that, besides his cock, of course. His thrusts slowed to a steady but more gentle rhythm as he recognized you were nearing your limit, but also not quite there yet.

Bucky spared a glance at where you bodies were connected, momentarily becoming captivated by the sight. His eyes returned to your’s, pupils still dark and blown, yet they seemed to be more passionate than ravenous now.

“One more, baby, can you do that for me? Give me one more and you can rest.”

You nodded while letting out a string of deep moans, desperately bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts in chase of your final orgasm. It didn’t take long for you to feel the familiar pressure building in your belly, raising you higher and higher in bliss. Words were far beyond you now, only a breathy string of his name escaping your parted lips as you buried your head in the space where his neck connected to his shoulder.

His thrusts grew sloppy as he attempted to hold out until you came crashing around him. His left arm was resting beside your head, holding his large frame up above your’s as not to crush your smaller body beneath him. Metal fingers found their way into the locks of your hair spread out on the pillows. Gentle tugs forced your head up, your eyes meeting his piercing blue ones.

“I want to watch you when you cum.”

Your eyes never left his as he brought you to the rising crescendo that would bring the night to its end. The unyielding intensity and intimacy of the moment had you feeling small but so very safe underneath him. Bucky was home and he was in control, you didn’t have to worry about a thing. You came undone around his cock once again, your tight walls pulling him across the finish line with you. A few more lazy thrusts followed as he painted your pulsing heat, gently pulling out once he was spent.

Bucky moved to lay down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before moving to check on you.

His nose brushed against the rim of your ear as he leaned over to place a kiss on your flushed cheek. He whispered soothing words against your skin as you came down, knowing you needed the reassurances and affection after a rough session. “You did so good, took everything just like I told you to. You’re too good to me.” Calloused hands that had spent so many years committing unspeakable acts now gently smoothed down your wild hair. “How about we get you cleaned up, okay?”

He waited for you to nod before moving you into his arms, carrying your spent body to the bathroom so you could take care of your needs while he ran a bath.

Once he knew the water was just how you like it, he moved into the tub, helping you position yourself between his legs with your back against his toned chest. Your head rested back against his shoulder as he moved the soapy loofah across your arms. It took a few more minutes, but slowly Bucky noticed that you were coming out of the headspace you always seemed to slip into when you truly relinquished control to him.

“Was I too rough?” His question broke the comfortable silence you both had fallen into since entering the attached bathroom.

A soft smile graced your lips in response, your heart swelling at his concern just as much as it had on your very first night together. You raised a hand up to rest on his cheek, pulling him down into a gentle and loving kiss. “You were perfect. If that’s what happens every time I misbehave while you’re away, I might just make a habit out of it.”

A chuckle rumbled from deep in Bucky’s chest as he shook his head in amusement. “Doll, you say that like you aren’t already the biggest pain in my ass since the day I met Steve.”

You didn’t hesitate to send a playful jab between his ribs in protest. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Barnes, I am a delight. The light of your damn life, even.”

An adoring smile made its way onto his features as he captured your lips in a brief kiss again. “Now that...that’s something we can agree on. Rule number four is that you never forget it.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Letter 4: 🦈 Dancing with Danger 🦈

A letter arrives in the mail. It’s crumpled, with various black splotches littering the page--as though someone was too impatient to wait for the ink to dry before starting to scrawl the next sentence. Oddly enough, the paper is also dusted with what appears to be... crumbs and flavored powder from chips. Was the writer eating while they were penning this?

A hastily wrapped parcel comes with the letter. Upon unwrapping it, you’re greeted with the most ugly looking keychain accessory you’ve ever seen. It sort of resembles a shrimp in its shape, its form patched together with various patterns that don’t go together at all: paisleys, plaids, polka dots, cheetah spots, zebra stripes, holographic print... The shrimp lacks a uniform gaze, with one googly eye being noticeably larger than the other, and its stitched smile is lopsided.

***Spoilers for chapters 3, 4, and 5!***

Hiii, Koebi-chan!

Now’s about the time of year when we say our thanks! ... is what Azul told me. I dunno why I gotta write it down, though! It’d be much quicker to tell you in person! That way, I can also make sure that you stick around to hear all of it. Lots of guppies try to run away when I just wanna talk to them! I don’t mind. Sometimes chasing them’s just as fun as holding them down is~

How are Kani-chan, Saba-chan, and Rakko-chan doing? Are they up for making more deals with Octavinelle? It was waaay less work at the Mostro Lounge with them helping out. Watching the anemone bounce on their heads while we bossed them around was cute~ Azarashi-chan made for a nice, fluffy dish cloth, too! You guys should fill in for me at the Mostro Lounge. Or!! I could skip my shift and just play with all of you instead~ Let’s go swimming together, or play tag in the water! I promise I’ll be really gentle this time!

Azul tells me that I throw too many fits, and that I’m hard to calm down when I get upset. But you know what I think? He’s just as bad--but I stick with him cuz it keeps things interesting~ You never know what he’s cooking up next! That’s why... I’m happy that you brought him back to us. It looks like I’ll get to enjoy bullying Azul again, thanks to Koebi-chan’s squad!

He doesn’t like to show it, but Azul’s actually squishy! Like, reallllly squishy! Jade and I always used to poke him and prank him just to see how he’d react actually, we still do that. Azul doesn’t cry as much anymore, so maybe that crybaby octopus I knew grew up a bit. That time was the first in a while that he broke down... so I made sure to give him a good squeeze to remind him not to scare us like that again~

Come to think of it, Koebi-chan scared us during winter break. You crashed right into the Mostro Lounge! Boy, was Azul angry and not with me or Jade for once... but in a way, I’m glad you did show up. That was the start of our Scarabia adventure!

We were like secret agents breaking in and making off with secret treasure even if I had to do the boring job this time and be distraction for Umihebi-kun! I kinda wish Azul let me borrow a deep voice for longer... It was funny seeing your face when you heard me for the first time! I wanted to see how the professors and the other guppies would react, too!

Rakko-chan cried a lot when we rescued Umihebi-kun. I wonder why? Even though Umihebi-kun backstabbed him and lied and tried to take everything from him, Rakko-chan was still so happy to get him back. Maybe he’s just too nice. Maybe cuz the desert isn’t a fish eat fish world like the sea is.

... But maybe ... just maybe... if I look back on it... I can see a little of Azul in him. And then... I can understand Rakko-chan’s feelings. Just a little bit.

Enough about that sad stuff, though!!

I’m so glad I ditched selling those stupid drinks at the cultural festival! (Can you believe Azul got mad at me for that?) I got to see Beta-chan-senpai and all the others dance on that big stage! Watching everyone up there made me wanna jump up and dance, too! Maybe I’ll join next time. Azul can be my manager, and Jade can be the water boy! Your job is to cheer for me from the audience~ Be sure to clap and shout extra loud when I snag the win for NRC, okay?

Ahah. I’m never bored when I’m around you guys. Koebi’s never bored either, right? Cuz wherever danger is, Koani-chan’ never too far behind!

Let’s hang out real soon! ... Oh, and here’s a closing Azul nagged me to include one!:

Sending lots of squeezes,

🦈 Floyd Leech 🦈