#...I kinda wanna start doing those again now that I stop to think about it

[nexusnyx]

to my sweetheart

40s!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader [1.5k] Summary: If there’s one thing James can do, whatever it is the state of his mind, is guide his thoughts to you. 📝 It took me forever but I'm back and I finished this story. Let's go. | 🏷️ established relationship, letters, angst, longing, love declarations. warnings⚠️ mature content — war, drugs, violence, death, depression & alcohol consumption… etc.

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ㅤㅤㅤSeptember, 1943.

The cold cement floor beneath him soaked up his clothes.

Bucky’s learned to hate the cold with a burning passion. It’s soaked its way into his bones and when he’s out of this dystopic dream and back in Brooklyn, he’s gonna stock up on sweaters. Coats. Jackets. Bucky dreams of warmth.

Warm memories have the same perfume as you.

All he ever wants every goddamn day, every waking hour, is to never, ever feel cold again.

“Fuck.”

All he needs is to be able to quit the shivering in his hands.

“Work, goddamn it.” He tries squeezing the two of them together, but they keep on shaking.

The words that are stuck in his mind need to make their way into ink, paper, you. Still—his hands shiver. Tremble.

Fingers as cold as ice. As the metal barrel he holds every day despite his wishes.

He licks his dry lips and tries to flex his fingers—Bucky’s mind hasn’t stopped reeling since that haunting dream’s installed its claws in the back of his mind, etching itself like a tattoo in the back of his lids. He can still write, he tells himself.

“C’mon. Ya hafta.” He has to. He must.

If there’s one thing James can do, whatever it is the state of his mind, is guide his thoughts back to you.

He stays on the ground for an hour before his mind releases the hold it has over his muscles.

Bucky hides, for the first time of what would come to be many.

Eventually, the words start falling.

»»» «««

my sweetheart,

words are kinda hard right now. my brain’s a bit foggy and the only reason i still write as i go it’s because you told me i was forgiven for anything horrible you’d have to read. ‘your situation that’s horrible, james’ is what you told me. it’s why i write. why i come back.

some man quit it. morita hasn’t heard a word from his lady. murry never started a conversation ‘cause he says there are no words that i could—but i can’t. how could i not talk to you? i’d go crazy. you’re sanity to me—even if your latest replies didn’t come through, i know you’re writing the words. i can almost hear them.

it’s dark out here, sweet lady. it’s cold, too.

it’s scary. and not the ‘i’m scared of Big Marty from down the block’ or like in one of the creepy movies you like.

somehow it’s made it’s way into my dreams.

why is it that my brain thinks it can show me shit i don’t wanna know? things that can’t be true?

that madness i told you about is almost like something in the air. stevie showed up in my dreams, too. not hearing from him since all of this shit started melted a part of my brain i imagine. everyday i pray that one of your letters come through, and everyday i pray they have words of that punk fucker. idiot! that fucking idiot’s doin’ somethin’ he shouldn’t. i just know it. i can smell it from wherever i go, no matter how high or low that desecrate smell is at the place.

why is it that i dream, sweetheart?

it feels like punishment, and a sick part of me reminds me i deserve some for what i’m doing right now.

“serving.” whose purpose? whose goals? what possible fucking agenda could a clusterfuck like this have in store—what’s all this blood spilled gonna bring?

i wanna bring my man home. i wanna cry, often now. right now’s one of those times—i ditched my post and i’m hiding from i don’t know what, and all i wish for is you.

you you you you you you… you.

my sweetheart, you.

i hope this like all the other letters finds you sitting warm somewhere;

i Hope Our Love Lives, Lasts and Never Dies.

(wish for it. i wished i DREAMED of it. since i can’t, i wish, i hope, i wish!!!!)

»»» «««

His comrades have the same type of look on their faces as he does.

Bucky’s lost the custom of checking his reflection—every now and then when they have time to pretend they’re human between all the animalism of war, he’s obliged to. To clean up some of the beard, to look into his own eyes, even if he looks away.

He’s grown fonder of closing his eyes.

Disassociating from his surroundings to drown himself in memories of you.

Some of his Howls told him that’s addictive. Bad.

“It’s worse than nicotine, Sarge.” Dum Dum’s mustache lifted to the sides every time he said something he believed in. More often than not, those were his wife of his religion.

“Nothing’s worse than this shit,” Bucky joked, throwing the cigarette’s end on the floor much to his disapproval.

“I’d usually agree, but what you’re telling me is.” Dum Dum leans against the wall, puts his hand inside his jacket, and pulls out two sheets of paper. “Here. Do the thing where you write to your Lady or your little punk, ‘cause that’s loads better.”

“Talking to people who ain’t here’s better than dreaming about ‘em? Sounds just as crazy to me.”

“From the little you told me they’d both smack you sideways for sayin’ they ain’t here just ‘cause the responses aren’t coming through.”

He laughs because it’s true. It’s short, and hoarse, and Bucky coughs into his fist. “They’d slap me for anything.”

“The highest form of love: bullying.”

Bucky’s laughter amplifies, and so does his coughing. “Are ya tryin’ to kill me?”

“Gods, no. If you leave me here to deal with all of this shit without your smiling, up-goody Brooklyn boy charm, I’m gonna have to off myself.”

They’re interrupted. Bucky’s laughter, which by now’s loud enough they’d be heard if they weren’t alone in the middle of nowhere, is cut short when he hears steps where there shouldn’t be any, but it’s only Gabe.

In Gabe’s hands, there’s a bazooka in a size Bucky’s never seen before, and all the fun dies so fast he feels its rotten parts turning his stomach to acid.

“What was so funny?” Gabe asks.

Dum Dum’s mustache twitches at the sight, and Bucky feels less alone. “Nothin’, if I’m being honest. We was just laughin’ at our pain.”

Gabe nods. “Right. Well, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

At the same time, both Bucky and Dum Dum say, “bad news first.”

Gabe nods. “The General’s response came through, and…” his eyes said everything. Bucky needed nothing more than the emptiness fogging Gabe’s eyes. “Falsworth’s climbing up the walls, Sarge.” His eyes pleaded—he was now looking at his sergeant more than anything. All of them did that—even Morita and Dum Dum, who were older than him, did that sometimes. “You gotta say something to him.”

Lie to him, Barnes. Say something.

“I will.” Only the lord knew what.

“The good news better be good,” grunted Dum Dum.

Then, something happened—

Bucky felt it.

The second Gabe looked up with something new—a spark of something shining like a light at the end of a tunnel, Bucky knew what it was. There was only one thing that could make a man now turned into a beast regain some sense of decency and life in them:

“The letters finally got here.”

»»»

Jay,

I don’t know where you are, love.

Before all of this, I always imagined our feelings to be stored somewhere between our minds and hearts. The path it made when I saw you for the first time—I remember how my throat stopped working. The way I could feel your looks burning my chest from inside out—even through letters. Even when we were friends.

Now, I know they’re everywhere.

All of me.

I feel it in tingles, sometimes it rips the air out of me.

More often than not, I feel my stomach. It’s unpleasant, annoying, and frankly, you better come back home to put a stop to it.

I got your last letters, Jay, and I’m not even sure where to start. Steve’s not here, darling. He said he found a way to help in the war. I’m going half mad. One part of me constantly sick, praying to gods I never even believed in before that you get home, and now the other part constantly worried, unsure of where my best friend is and knowing damn well he’s doing something stupid. Something only Steve could do.

I need you both to come back.

I need you to come back, and never leave again.

My hands are always cold now. It’s as if not enough blood circulates in me, as if I’m waiting for something else.

Will you come home to me?

↳ my inbox 💌 | tip jar ♡ ↲

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☆ next chapter ☆

[riftdancing]

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

Siyoh is incredibly passionate about food. Not surprising given her craft as a Culinarian. But one might say food could almost be considered an obsession for her. Working in her mother's bakery when she was younger supplied Siyoh with a wealth of lessons about life. One of which, she learned early on.

Food transcends social barriers.

Be it language, cultural, or otherwise. Everyone understands and appreciates a hot meal on a cold night. You don't have to be able to speak to one another to enjoyed shared company and an equally shared meal.

The silver miqo'te has applied this lesson through out her life and it is part of why she has poured so much passion into her craft.

Food brings people together and unites them over a common ground.

[dadbots]

August… time to get spooky.

[strang3lov3]

Spencer's

Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.

Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷

W/C: 4.3k

It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break. 

You could help him relax. 

“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.  

“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”

“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge. 

“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.

“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”

You shrug, “Sure, after.”

“After what?”

“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt. 

You’re not wasting time. 

“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”

“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”

You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern. 

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.

“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency. 

Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.  

Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.

“And you what?” your tone is snarky.

“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”

You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue. 

“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.

“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”

Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.” 

And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma. 

You pout, “You don’t like me?”

“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out. 

Awh. He barely tolerates you.

You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.

“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”

“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone. 

Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”

—

After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you. 

Holy shit.

There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.

“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”

“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator. 

He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”

“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.

“Don’t need it,” he huffs. 

“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”

His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”

“You still have some, don’t you?”

Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.” 

“Sharing is caring, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.” 

Rude. 

You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag. 

Ah, fuck it. He won’t know. 

There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser. 

—-

Joel is livid. 

Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you. 

His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment. 

Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.

Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place. 

He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone. 

At least he gets to catch you in the act. 

Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. 

Probably not. 

He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?” 

“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown. 

“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.

“How many’d you steal from me?”

The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off. 

“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.” 

Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up. 

“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”

“S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”

“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy. 

“Please,” you beg. 

“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there. 

Fucking Joel.

“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”

“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”

“Shut up, wiseass.”

“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.

Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.

“Joel–”.

“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin��� around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”

“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”

“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset,  “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”

He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass. 

You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze. 

Crack. 

The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth. 

Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”

“Joel–”.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip. 

It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it.  “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.

He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.” 

You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.

“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”

Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father’s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach. 

Same idea.

Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal. 

Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet. 

Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks. 

“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”

Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high. 

Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?” 

It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”

“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.” 

“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”

Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”

“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.

Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems. 

But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.

“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”

“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”

“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it. 

“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.

“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”

“No, please. M’so tired.”

“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.

He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.

He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore. 

He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”

“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you. 

“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”

“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing. 

You smile with a slight shrug. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”

“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make. 

“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”

“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.

You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel. 

Just one more. 

He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed. 

God, how you missed that. Missed him.

It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.

Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.

Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.” 

“Why?”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.” 

You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”

“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”

“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”

Please please please reblog, comment, send me asks! Talk to me! Your interaction means the world!

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[jadeneppy]

,

[jeonginsleftcheek]

First kiss with Stray Kids

genre: fluff, suggestive

description: you and skz member went out on a few dates and it's time to share your first kiss. what's it like to kiss skz members for the first time?

a/n: gn!reader, okay i'm supposed to be asleep but i got this idea, enjoy?🤍

Chan:

Oh, Chan probably plans the kiss the night before your date. He'll lay in bed and flip through different scenarios of you two kissing. He keeps overthinking and he can't sleep(what's new tho?). He probably ends up imagining you two married with kids and starts giggling n shit. When you actually meet up, he's freaking nervous the whole time. You notice and if you ask him what's wrong he'll probably come up with an excuse cause he wants to wait till the end of the date for the kiss. Will ask you 'can i kiss you?' when that time comes and get shy when you say yes but there's no backing out now. Will kiss you gently like you're some sort of delicate flower and absolutely freak the f out on the inside because hello??? You're kissing??? That first kiss will be sweet and innocent, but get ready for the second one cause now that he broke the ice, it's gonna get heated.

Lee Know:

He wants to kiss you so badly every time you're together, but for some reason he just gets so nervous about it so he can't initiate it. When you're out on a date he will look at your lips the whole time while you talk and lick his lips unconsciously. You notice ofcourse, and since he loves teasing you, you're happy you finally have a chance to tease him a little. He catches himself staring at your lips and looks up at your eyes, his ears are red and he chuckles nervously. You say 'you wanna kiss me or something?' and he's mortified but he wont show that, he'll just say 'so what if i do?'. That's cue for you to smirk and lean in, then stop right before you actually touch just to see him panic once more because he's adorable when he's flustered, okay? He'll close the gap then and you'll get a sweet kiss, full of warmness and smiles.

Changbin:

Hypes himself up, actually thinks he'll initiate the kiss but when you look at him like that he gets all shy and melts and you have to lean in first. He'll lean in too then, with his cute half smirk, eyes trained on your lips. He's kinda stiff at first (because he's panicking and can't believe you're actually kissing him) but will relax after some time and put his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place so he can keep kissing you. Gets bolder as you reciprocate and slips a little tongue in. Gets shy again when you part and make eye contact. (He's giggling and kicking his feet fr). Will ask for kisses every second of the day from that moment on and if you deny him, he'll get all sulky and dramatic. (How dare you?)

Hyunjin:

I think he'd also be shy about it but he would muster up enough courage to lean in first and kiss you. He wants your first kiss to be extra romantic so he takes his time and kisses the corners of your lips, then your upper lip, then your bottom lip before he actually presses those pretty lips into yours. You melt because how are someone's lips that soft?! (Hyunjin thinks the same for you) And trust me he may look calm and collected in that moment but my man is freaking out on the inside. Gets more courageous and slips his tongue in and just massages yours gently at first. Then he tilts your head, his big hands holding your face and he just starts making out with you and boy oh boy it's a lot. By the time you part for air, you both look disheveled and flushed but can you help it? You both got really into it. Now that he tasted you, he wont ever hesitate to kiss you like that for hours.

Jisung:

He will wait for you to initiate it (he will throw not so subtle signs at you tho) and when you do, this man will explore your mouth with his tongue like he needs your air to breathe. Messy, sloppy, teeth clanking, hands roaming around, kisses you until you're literally heaving for a breath. Bite his bottom lip and he'll whimper into your mouth. I know, sounds like a hell of a first kiss but I feel like he just wants to go all in because he's literally infatuated with you. Now that you've kissed for the first time, you're obligated to give him kisses every 2 minutes. Cause like what are you doing if you're not kissing him, right? You don't really need air to breathe, right?

Felix:

I feel like he isn't shy about things like this in real life, especially if he knows you reciprocate his feelings so he'll just go for it. Puts his hand on your cheek and starts with gently pressing his lips with yours before moving them (will probably suck your bottom lip between his). Definitely looks like the type that will push his tongue in just a few moments later, leaving you kinda shocked that he's so bold but that's just Felix, I feel like he has no problem showing you he loves you in any form of physical love language (wink wink). He'll kiss you until your breathless, his tongue moving in all directions (preview for later?). Will probably ask 'was that good?' or 'did you like that?' with a smirk. He knows it was good, he just wants to hear you say it.

Seungmin:

His first kiss would be timid and gentle, he would lean in first but he'd let you lead and set the pace. He would look so calm and collected but he is freaking the hell out on the inside. He can't believe you're kissing him. Will put his arms around your waist or shoulders and hold you closer to his body because he feels so happy that you like him that much. If you throw in a little tongue you'll feel him clench his hands into fists because you'll literally be the death of him, why are you doing that? He reciprocates, still lets you lead (for now). Run your fingers through his hair and touch his neck while you kiss him, he will *burst*. When you part he smiles, the widest smile you've seen on his face (you fall in love again because hello beautiful??) and his ears are red and you want to scream and pinch his cheeks cause he's just too adorable.

Jeongin:

My man hypes himself up, believes he'll be fearless, he'll come in and swoop you off your feet. But when he's actually in front of you, his braveness will fade and be replaced with nervousness. He asks if he can kiss you and you both lean in at the same time resulting in either your head bumping or teeth clashing but it's fine if it's awkward the first time, it only gets better from there. So when you lean in again he kisses you so gently that you genuinely feel like you're in one of those cheesy tv scenes where time stops. Presses a few fast gentle kisses into your lips while smiling and when he leans back his face is as red as a tomato. Get ready for the future though, cause this boy is a fast learner and once he overcomes the shyness you're in for a hell of a treat.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Gojo and geto nonconing their darling together ? <3

Help Us...?

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, threesom....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

The Toji incident happened. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru went on a mission to save the star plasma vessel Riko Amanai. But they weren't successful. Riko got killed by Toji Fushiguro. Geto and Gojo almost got killed by him too. But Gojo learnt reverse course technique at time and revive himself and killed Toji. But they couldn't save Riko.

The two strongest sorcerer came back to the jujutsu high again. I heard that they are having mental breakdown after the incident happened. I talked with Shoko she also told me that they were really having mental breakdown.

I knew both of them loves to eat sweet. Especially Gojo. So I thought I should make something sweet and give it to them to cheer them up. I made a cake. Chocolate cake. And then headed to their droom room.

It was late night. It got late to make the cake. I was wearing my mini night dress. Because I'll go to sleep after giving the sweet to Gojo and Geto. I went to their door. They both were roommates too. I knocked on the door. "Coming..." I heard Gojo's voice and wait for him to come.

After a while he opened the door. "Oh...y/n!... You here at this time?" He asked. Then his eyes scanned my whole body. But I ignored it. "Yes.... I heard you two are sad after the thing happened... So I made this cake for you two" I said and handed him the cake.

"oh... Thanks... thank you so much y/n... we'll eat it tonight." He said. "It's okey.... Friends should help each other.... And if you need any help do tell me... I'll love to give you two any kind of help you want... don't even think twice... okey?" I said with a smile. Gojo paused for a second. I don't know what came in his mind. He smirked at me. "Any kind of help?" He asked. "Yes" I replied. "What if we need your help right now to cheer us up?" He asked. "I'd love to do that!" I replied with excitement.

Gojo told me to come inside. I went inside and he closed the door behind. I saw Geto laying on the bed. He looked at me when I entered. "Oh y/n.... you here at this time?" He asked. But before I could reply Gojo replied from my behind. "She came here to help us.... the special help Suguru" Gojo said with a smirk. Geto smirked back. "Oh I see.... come here y/n" Geto said. I went there and sit infront of him. Gojo sit behind me on the bed.

"you wanna help us?" Geto asked. He brings my hand to his face and kissed it. I felt kinda uncomfortable. "Yes but-" before I could complete my sentence Gojo caressed my inner thigh under my short night dress and slide his hand inside my pantie and started rubbing my clit. I was about to stop him but Geto grabbed my another hand. "Uh uh uh.... Didn't you said you wanna help us?" Geto said. Gojo started rubbing his crotch on my ass. "Gojo stoppp" I screamed. He started rubbing my clit more roughly. "But baby... your pussy is telling me not to stop... Suguru, she's wet as fuck" Gojo said and ripped off my pantie.

I tried to close my legs but Gojo grabbed both of my thighs and spread them. "Spread those legs wide, slut" Gojo whispered in my ear. Geto looked at my exposed pussy. I looked away with shame. I don't know why are they doing this to me. "Damnn... We should fuck her then, Satoru" Geto said. "Ofcourse" Gojo said with a smirk.

Then there was I, on my fours. All of our clothes were on the floor. I'm begging them to stop the humiliation. Geto thrusting his dick in my mouth and Gojo in my pussy from back. I squeezed my eyes. Tears flowing down. My mouth was wide open. Geto's dick inside my mouth taking the whole length in slowly. It was too big. Geto's breath hitched. He threw his head back mouth wide open. He pulled my hair telling me to suck hard. I slowly sucked his dick and his legs shook. He bobbed my head up and down. His tip was poking the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and started bobbing my head up and down faster. "Oh god...oh god.... don't...ahhhh... don't stop!!!!" Geto moaned out loudly. He was bobbing my head up and down faster and faster. He suddenly felt that Geto was close. In a few minutes he came inside my mouth. He grabbed my chin "Swallow it y/n" geto said squeezing my mouth which made me swallow. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed Geto's cum.

On the other hand Gojo was thrusting too roughly. He was slamming his whole dick inside me. I scremed. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight, Suguru this pussy might be the death of me!!!" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I squeezed the bedsheet to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. " Slut should fucking take what I'm giving her." He whimpered. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out.

Geto pulled me made me sit on his lap. He touched my right boob with his hand and pinched the nipple. I whimpered. "She can take both of us together Suguru" Gojo said. "Can she?" Geto asked with a smirk. "Ofcourse she can she said she'll do anything to help us" Gojo smirking back at Geto. "No no no....not again... please please please... not again" I cried out. Gojo's smirk widened and he crashed his mouth on my boob sucking hurshly. I moaned loudly.

They both lined up with me. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " Gojo no no no... P-please no...Geto please s-stop" I begged but they didn't even listen to me and slammed their whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. They didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. It was too much...they both were big and thick....it was giving too much pain. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging them to stop. And they were liking it so much. Their thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around them tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh.... f-fuck...it's so tight " Geto moaned. "Told you " Gojo said between moans and started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. They were still thursting roughly. I felt their cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength. They both moaned loudly. Within a minute they came inside me I could feel their seed inside me. My vision blurred out.

"I don't wanna pull out" Geto said. "Neither me" Gojo replied. "Let's sleep like this... this felt so good...she did helped us great " Geto said. "I bet" Gojo replied with a smirk.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

���Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

[pocket-watcher]

I slowly opened the door. My roommates had been acting weird the past few days, but I’d shrugged it off.

There, leaning against his desk on one side of the room was Carter. Sitting on Carter’s bed, one of the few places there were to sit in the room, was Myles.

“Uh… you needed me?” I looked up at Carter. His usually playful demeanour was slightly off. I looked at Myles to see if he had any clue what was going on but he seemed like his usual smiley self.

“Yes… what do you know about hypnosis?” Carter asked.

My face felt hot, and so, I bluffed.

“Not much. I think I saw it in some TV shows?” I felt my voice go higher than normal.

His eyes lit up in challenge.

“Do you believe in it?” He asked again. Myles seemed confused too.

“Not really, I mean. It’s kinda sci-fi, right?” I laughed it off - pushing down any thoughts of he knows he knows oh god he knows-

“Maybe. What about you, Myles? Do you believe in hypnosis?” Carter had a mischievous look in his eyes.

Myles brushed it off. “Nah, of course not. It’s like flying or telekinesis or something.”

Carter locked eyes with me.

“Wanna see a cool trick?” He asked, raising his fingers to snap.

“No!” I heard my own voice ring out.

There wasn’t any fear or attempt to stop this from Myles. Just confusion. From me, however?

I’d just given myself away.

Carter snapped and Myles’ head dropped instantly, rolling back and forth before settling in the centre of his chest.

Carter grinned wickedly.

“What did you do?!” I gasped, running over to him. “Myles? Can you hear me?”

No response.

“What did I do?” Carter asked, still not moving from where he was leaning. I kept one eye on him as I shook Myles, getting more desperate. “Why, the same thing I’m about to do to you.”

The statement echoed inside my head. Fear. Dread. Excitement.

I slowly turned to look at Carter.

“Myles, stand.” Carter ordered.

Myles’ eyes opened, half-lidded, mouth agape. He stood and I backed away from him.

“Good boy.” Carter praised.

I started to panic. Shit. Do I run for the door? Both of them are faster than me. Stronger than me too, probably. Why the fuck didn’t I run more or go to the gym or-

Myles mindlessly lunged for me. I scrambled to get away but faltered as the only direction of escape was right towards Carter.

He was waiting there. Watching. Smiling. As if it was all going exactly to plan.

Myles grabbed both of my arms. I’d backed into him in fear, recoiling from Carter at the last second. I struggled but, just as I’d thought, I couldn’t break free.

For the first time during this ordeal Carter stood up and approached us. I looked away, getting a full look at Myles’ blank face looking straight ahead, no matter how much I pleaded with him to just listen to me.

“I understand.” Carter cooed. “You don’t want to submit to me straight away. You like the chase. The struggle. But I know you want to give in to me…”

I looked at him defiantly. The wrong decision. Maybe if I’d thought more about it I’d have realised that was exactly what he wanted.

Carter’s eyes were deep, swirling, drawing me in.

I’d always found him attractive, but now? Now it was like I was losing myself in his eyes. My thoughts slowed. My heartbeat quickened.

I felt my head begin to bow. I tried to look away. Really, I did. But Myles’ hand grabbed my chin and forced my eyes forward once more.

Carter looked at me proudly, as if he’d ensnared his pray. He looked hungry. Cocking his head from side to side and eyes shining as I mirrored his movements.

I felt a smile slowly form on my lips. I was drowning, sinking into his eyes. At some point Myles let go of my arms and began massaging my shoulders. Deeper, deeper. He must’ve known my legs were too weak to run.

It was all so meticulously planned, like a checklist.

Lure me in? Check.

Use Myles to stop me from leaving? Check.

Send me deeper? Check.

Make me lose focus? Check.

Staring into those gorgeous eyes? Check.

As simple and as easy as 1.. 2.. 3…

“You’re doing great. Both of you. Oh the fun we’re going to have with two of you now…”

[evera-era]

a new kind of love. (pt. 1)

synopsis: ellie thinks relationships are too complicated, and has since written them off. but what is she supposed to do when she starts developing feelings for her best friend?

ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings: slow burn AF, jealousy, some sassy ellie, male tries flirting with reader for like 3 seconds, lots of playful banter.

a/n: this was honestly so fun to write,, slow burn + friends to lovers go brrrrr

“Did you see that shit?!” Ellie exclaims, almost cracking her neck to look at you. “Fuck yeah! That’s a new high score.”

“Nice.” You mumbled, but your eyes didn’t drift from the book you were reading.

“Seriously? You’re not even looking.” She groans. “Whatever. If you did, your mind would’ve been blown. And you would’ve at least given me, like, a high five or something.”

“Okay, okay, sorry! I’ll look now — do it again.” You say, folding the corner of the current page you were on. Ellie adjusts her backpack as you put your book away.

“I can’t just ‘do it again,’” She says, mocking you. “My chances of ever getting that far again are practically zero.”

Ellie had managed to successfully skip a rock all the way across a large stretch of lake. It was a big deal to her, clearly. She had done this everytime you went on this particular path during patrols, but today was a new record for her.

The air was still. You took a moment to examine the trees around you before speaking. “Everything seems clear.” You said, turning to her. “Should we head back now?”

Ellie stops to take a look around. She gives a quick nod. “…Yeah. Guess so.”

You grinned before raising your hand. She turns, slightly puzzled, before narrowing her eyes at you.

“C’mon,” You wiggle your outstretched fingers a little. “Your celebratory high five, like you said!”

“Yeah, but now it’s out of pity. And about two minutes late.”

She waits for you to step aside, but you don’t put your arm down. “Mm-mm. I’m not moving til we make up, Els.”

Make up. The phrase makes her stop, just for a second. She found it a little amusing — you’ve never said that before. But she knew you were trying to make her feel better, so she chucks it up to you just being you.

She claps her hand against yours before making her way down the trail. “There. We made up. Happy?” She says, already having placed some distance between you two. You jog to catch up with her as she mounts Shimmer.

The two of you arrive back in Jackson about an hour earlier than any other given day, since today’s route was shorter than the rest. As you’re dropping off the horses, Ellie looks at you.

“I’m starving.” She says, guiding Shimmer. “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Sure.” You reply.

“Cool.” She offers you the horse’s lead. “Think you can put her up for me? I’ll be back in a sec.”

When Ellie returns to the spot she left you and Shimmer in a moment ago, she’s confused. The horse was not in her stable. In fact, she was nowhere to be found — and neither were you.

Ellie blows raspberries, slightly concerned. But that quickly fades when you turn the corner, Shimmer’s lead in hand.

“Ta-da!” You cheer. Shimmer’s hair is littered in fake plastic butterflies, tucked neatly within her strands. “It’s those little hair clips I found on our last patrol. Isn’t she purty?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from her hip. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You frown. “You don’t like it?”

“Looks kinda weird.”

“Ellie!” You whine.

She sighs. “Okay, sure. She looks… purty… indeed.”

“‘Course she does,” You say in a proud manner, walking Shimmer confidently to her stable. Ellie looks off to the side, her face beginning to warm as she murmurs “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She pretended to be annoyed, but truthfully, she cherished days like these. The two of you hadn’t gotten scheduled together in a while. And even though you were adults now, and had other responsibilities, she didn’t miss your company any less.

She still liked Jesse and Dina, of course, but she wasn’t nearly as close with them like she was with you. You and Ellie were basically inseparable; you had been, ever since the very first day that you joined the community.

You broke the silence first. “Hey, maybe one day, you’ll let me play in your hair.”

Ellie glares at you. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You urged. “Come on, I bet I could make you look just as pretty as Shimmer.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Hell no.”

“Hm… you’re right.” Your devious grin widens. “You could never look that good.”

Ellie elbows you in your side, and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up. Let’s go eat.”

—

A few days later, Ellie was at the pub with Jesse when she glanced over and got caught off guard.

You were walking in, talking and giggling with some random guy that she had never seen before.

The interaction she witnessed left a weird taste in her mouth. You were so engaged in the conversation that you didn’t even look where you were going. If you did, you would’ve seen that your best friend was actually in the same bar.

It might’ve just been platonic, but for some reason, it annoyed her ever-so-slightly. You and Ellie talk about everything, and yet you’ve never mentioned him.

To make matters worse, his eyes were lusty and unwavering and practically embedding themselves into yours. And you didn’t seem to notice — or maybe you just didn’t care — which pissed her off to no end.

“Who’s that?” She questions, jutting her chin in your direction. Jesse looks over his shoulder, then back at his drink.

“Uh… stable boy, is what they call him. I think.” He says. “Came into town two nights ago, along with his dad. An old friend of someone’s.”

“Is he, like… into her, or something?” She mumbles, watching intently. Jesse replies with something along the lines of “Hm. Might be.”

The guy was tall, which forced you to look up at him through your lashes. He was smiling the whole time; he clearly liked this angle of you.

Ellie resists the urge to clench her teeth. Can’t you see that he’s so obviously thinking with his dick right now?

Ellie knew it was wrong to feel this way. You were allowed to make new friends, and she shouldn’t interfere with that. But she couldn’t help it — the guy seemed like a fucking creep. She hated that you were even talking to him.

Thinking about it wasn’t enough. Whatever it was, it was bubbling up under her skin, as if someone lit a match underneath her.

“Gonna introduce myself.” She says, setting down her glass. She doesn’t even wait for Jesse’s response before she’s hot on your trail.

When she approaches you, she says nothing. Merely clears her throat and gives a curt nod to your new friend.

“Oh, hey Els!” You say, touching her shoulder. You looked back over at him. “This is my best friend, Ellie. She looks scary, but she’s nice. I promise.”

Ellie remains silent, just purses her lips and puts her hands in her pockets. There’s a noticeable shift of energy in the conversation. Stable boy must have picked up on it; it’s not long before he excuse himself and leaves.

It’s almost comical how quickly Ellie relaxes upon his exit. You drop your hand and give her a dramatic stare, jaw agape.

“What?”

“Really?” You say in a loud whisper. “Els, I know it might be hard for you sometimes, but you don’t have to be a dick!”

“Pfft. I was not being a dick.” She protests. “And even if I was — he literally deserved it! That dude was looking at you like he wanted to bone you. It was fuckin’ gross.”

“Oh my god, Ellie—“

“What? It’s the truth!” She states, like it’s a fact. “Look, I get that he probably hasn’t seen a cute girl in a fucking millennium, but—“

“Did he tell you that?” You ask sarcastically.

“Whatever.” She mutters. “I just took him down a couple notches, that’s all. He’ll survive.”

“He was just being nice.” You say before pausing. “Wait. Did you call me cute?”

Honestly, the words had came out before she had a chance to catch them. She’s not really sure why she even said it at all.

Ellie didn’t normally lie, but she knew you’d never shut up if she didn’t. So she glances at you, then sneers. “And risk it getting to your head when it’s big enough as it is?”

You punch her in the arm, to which she very quickly defends herself against. She’s in the middle of playfully warding you off as Jesse approaches the two of you.

“We abusing Ellie now?” He jokes, glass in hand. Ellie gives you a light shove as you let go of her forearm.

“When isn’t she?” She says.

“Puh-lease,” You enunciate. “That was nothing. You’re gettin’ soft, Els.”

The auburn-haired girl laughs it off. As you and Jesse begin to make conversation, Ellie — for some reason — can feel her face wanting to tingle again.

She didn’t like it. It was ticklish, it annoyed her, and it seemed to only start doing that around you, nowadays.

What the fuck is happening?

Maybe she was getting a bit soft after all.

[kurosstuff]

🍯

Can you do lute x female!reader, reader uses a strapon on lute and wing play is involved. 👀

Oh my~ honestly this- was fun to write- I never wrote wingplay stuff before so! Hopefully you enjoyed it~?

Warning(s): wing kink, strap on use(on lute), vanilla but not at the same time? Idk. Lutes rude at the begining(she's just nervous) overestimated(lute) couple mentions of "breeding"/"being bred"

Im- gonna jump right into it- HELP I- KINDA WENT ALMOST ALL IN ISH?

Lute x reader

It took a while to get Lute to even THINK of bottoming. Much less allow you to even use a strap on her. She's more then happy to use it on you but for her? The thought didn't exactly appeal to her. But- promising to try it once and never bring it up unless she allowed it(that and a bunch of.. kisses) then? She entertained the idea

And that's how she was. On your shared bed with a deep scowl, completely naked. If it weren't for the deep flush on her face. And how her wings puffed up, threatening to expand? You'd assume she was pissed(she was, but that's besides the point)

"The fuck is taking so long?" She growled our glaring at rhe bedroom door "God lute. Calm down, won't you, baby? I'm making sure it's all strapped on!" At that? She growled, looking away with a deep snarl.

A couple minutes passed by before the door finally opened "fucking finall-" her words cut in her throat seeing the toy. Not like the one she uses no- it was so much bigger "what the fuck is that? That's what you picked?" She growled out glaring at you flushed darkly making you smirk moving close to her

"What~? Lute, you scared?" You teased, kissing her, gently biting at her lips, ignoring her protests of 'hell nos!' Sighing "babe.. if you don't wanna do this we don't gotta. We can- like cuddle or something?" Making her stop. As if weighing jer options before shaking her head

Grumbling, she huffed. "No. Its.. fine. Just you picked a bigger one then I tho- oh fuck you don't get so fucking smug" she snarled out glaring at you flushed embarrassed of the whole thing snickering kissing her again

"Sorry baby~ now... can you bend over for me~? Wanna see those gorgeous wings of yours~" Purring out pouring liquid onto the toy watching her do exactly what you asked of her smirking at how they fluttered at the praise "you always get like this when I compliment your wings~" getting onto the bed feeling her entrance gently "excited I see~" Purring out seeing her wings fluttered pushing the tip on her entrance slowly pushing into her stopping half way

"Fuck~," Lute whimpered out, grinding back against you. Hiding her face into the pillow "more~ g-give me more~" feeling you push all the way in, smirking down at her. Moving to hold her waist pounding into her gently

"Easy now lute~," you purred, watching her under you moaning loudly clawing at the sheets. "I've got you~ gonna get faster, ok baby?" Pounding into her faster - harder. Holding her waist, squeezing her gently panting

"Would think you're trying to breed me, Dove~?" She gasped out, bending more bouncing against her, making you hum in thought, biting your lip at how much of a "switch' just occurred. How she's eager to submit to you all the sudden

"Maybe I want to breed you, Lute~." Pounding faster into her ignoring how the bed shook under the both of you barely starting to hit the wall knowing a bit of roughness? She could handle "would you blame me?" You purred out, watching her wings fluttering, flapping slowly.

Smirking at a "cruel" thought, "i wonder~" sensitive here, too?" Moving a free hand to rub at her wings, going all over her delicate wings, pushing all the tight places, hearing her sob moaning louder for you."yeah~ that sensitive, huh baby?" Purring out your pace unrelenting as you took her in your bed.

Watching her wings expand as if to show off to you. As if to signal to you about being a good mate for you. "God gorgeous baby~ yeah? Wanting to mate me, yeah?" Pounding rougher into hrr leaning to kiss where her wings met "wow~ shaking this much?" Seeing her nod so drunk off you from being overestimated. "God~ can't wait to breed you~"

Ever so gently leaning to bite at a part of her wings watching her arch her back, screaming your name out, smirking kissing the mark cooing "couldn't help myself gorgeous ~ I'm sorry" pounding faster watching as she slumped laying under you sobbing out from the pleasure "more~" hearing a broken whimper from her. Ignoring how the bed shook now, hitting the wall harshly creaking under you both from the unrelenting pace.

Panting heavily moving to tower over her kissing her neck praising her as you marked her ip moving faster in her "doing so good~ you close my love?" Purring against her neck watching her nod humming, they smirked, pounding faster in her before humming, rubbing her wings, watching her shake.

"Go ahead~"

At that? With a loud sob screaming out your name- lute came. Slumping down under your wings popping up, spreading as you cooed gently slowly pulling out, "That's my good girl~ I've got you~" whsipering, moving to clean her up gently laying next to her "liked it Lute?"

Grumbling glaring, she moved, cuddling up beside you, kissing you gently. "It was perfect~" Purring out panting wings fluttering .After I catch my breath, I'll pay you back my dove~", making you flush, smirking nodding

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hii, do you think you could do a piece with a sleep deprived and overworked hero, and then the villain notices and takes care of them please. Thank you, and I love your writing!!

The hero stared at the ground, trying to catch their breath as best as they could. They were wheezing, in fact, and they couldn’t handle the sudden adrenaline rush very well. Soon enough, their body got tired again and they wanted to sit here for an eternity.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing? You know, just ask me on a date, that would spare me a lot of trouble.” The villain offered the hero their hand and the hero begrudgingly decided to take it.

“I didn’t ask you to save me. Again.” The hero staggered and more or less luckily, the villain’s hand was on their lower back immediately, preventing an undoubtedly embarrassing fall. “And I didn’t ask you to be in my business all the goddamn time.”

The hero took a step back and tried to put more distance between them. They couldn’t waste their time with the villain here, they had work to do, they had things to take care of. The hero needed to collect more data, needed to fight more criminals, needed to work harder and be better.

“Jeez, relax. Was just trying to help, sunshine.” The villain shrugged and let a knife of theirs disappear in their pocket. They looked the hero up and down. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” the hero said through gritted teeth, lying as if the villain wouldn’t notice.

Obviously, the hero wasn’t doing well. For over a week now, they couldn’t sleep. They were so stressed with upcoming elections (and thus potential sabotages as well as assassinations) that they couldn’t fall asleep, even though they were a walking corpse that longed for rest more than anything. As if that wasn’t enough, they had to concentrate on their usual tasks: battles and paperwork put more stress on them than they could’ve ever imagined.

“You can’t concentrate, your coordination is shit and you’re easily irritated. Don’t think I wouldn’t notice that.” The villain took a step forward, so close to the hero that their head started spinning.

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t care. We’re enemies,” the hero said. They avoided the villain’s eyes. At work, no one really talked about overworking. No one acknowledged how miserable this job could be.

“We slept together like six times,” the villain said.

“And that was a mistake.”

“Six times? Seems more like a habit.”

“Okay, well, urgh.” The hero put a hand on the villain’s chest. Admittedly, they craved the villain’s attention and touch. They craved a lot of things right now, especially someone who could comfort them. But they made it seem as if they wanted to stop the villain from coming closer.

“We’re not strangers,” the villain said. “I know you. I know you’re not okay. You carry a bunch of stuff with you and you refuse to unpack it. That’s fine, I respect it, but I’d really like you to be okay.”

The hero closed their eyes. Was it bad that they wanted to feel the villain’s fingers on them? Those bloody and scarred hands?

“It’s just…lots of work at the moment. I don’t do well under too much pressure.”

“So, you can’t sleep? Is that it?” The villain’s eyes pierced into the hero’s and the hero could remember the last time they’d been this close a little too well.

Not that it mattered but back then, the hero had stared down at the sweating villain whom they’d pushed into the mattress.

“It’s difficult.”

“You know you can always come to my place.”

“I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“You only trouble me on the battlefield and those are two sides of the same coin.” The villain took in a deep breath. “Just think about it. I kinda miss you. And we don’t even have to do anything. You just need someone to make you a proper dinner.”

“As if I’m living on instant noodles.”

“You are living on instant noodles. Think about it.”

They pressed a soft kiss to the hero’s cheek and it was safe to say that the villain spoiled the hero when they visited them that night.

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Captains + BajiFuyuTora Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of substances, mentions of PTSD

Desc: Baji tries to make a polycule work with some heavy convincing

Baji: alr guys, i'm gonna ask Fuyu and Tora out on a date at the same time

Mitsuya: that's not gonna work

Draken: don't they hate each other? just pick one

Baji: no i'm in love with the both of them so i'm gonna ask both of them out

Baji: also they actually have feelings for each other but haven't realized it yet

Draken: you're pushing it

Smiley: first of all, Kazutora likes women

Baji: no, he has feelings for me but he hasn't realized it yet

Smiley: alright man

Mikey: Baji, your chances are better with Chifuyu. sort that out first because you're gonna ruin the entire friendgroup dynamic with this shit😟

Baji: we're not a friendgroup, we're lovers

Mikey: i'm talking about us, dipshit

Baji: who

Mikey: everyone who isn't Chifuyu and Kazutora??

Baji: idgaf

Mikey: ayt

Pah: weren't we your treasures or smth 🧐?

Baji: i've moved on to bigger things

Baji: smaller twinks

Baji: you get me?

Smiley: Chifuyu's short but he's not a twink.

Smiley: now Kazutora, we can call a twink

Smiley: you guys are using this word wrong

Mikey: it's it just a skinny guy?

Smiley: "a gay or effeminate man, or a young man, regarded as an object of homosexual desire, usually a bottom. they are attractive and slim in appearance."

Draken: this is just Mitsuya

Mikey: 🧐

Mitsuya: ?

Smiley: that is correct but i didn't wanna say anything cause that twink got hands🤷‍♂️

Mikey: now that i think about it, Mitsuya used to be kinda built. not buff but not skinny. fuck happened

Pah: Draken died

Pah: "died"

Baji: so he stopped eating? lame

Mitsuya: do you guys get how mourning works

Draken: well i'm good now so let's get this grub 🗣

Draken: sorry for making you sad, brother

Draken: it's my mission to bulk you up again

Mitsuya: i'm fine👍

Mikey: no one dying is going to get in between me and a meal😭🙏

Mikey: skill issue on Mitsuya's part

Smiley: skill issue is when your friend dies and you go into a depression so deep that you can't even eat anymore

Mikey: that's what i'm saying❗

Smiley: leave it up to Draken to get shot 3 times in the chest and just walk it off

Smiley: that was kinda hard tho

Draken: thanks👍

Draken: it hurt really bad

Draken: i think it traumatized me

Draken: i can't go to amusement parts now. or listen to fireworks cause i'll start hallucinating shit that happened from that night. weird

Mitsuya: ...that's called ptsd

Baji: yeah man you have ptsd

Draken: what's ptsd

Baji: PTSDEEZ NUTS LMAOOOOOOO

Baji: GOT EM

Draken: i wish your suicide attempt worked you mentally challenged, wanna be werewolf, loreal shampoo ad looking ass bitch

Baji: BANG BANG BANG💣💥💣💥💣💥

Mikey: DUDE💀

Baji: do you guys get it

Baji: it's the gunshots

Baji: because he has PTSD

Baji: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Draken: do you remember how you killed Shinichiro

Baji: 😐

Mikey: GUYS💀

Draken: i'm sorry Mikey

Draken: but

Draken: Baji do you remember when you were screaming his name and watched him bleed to death

Smiley: ☠️

Draken: the skull represent Shinichiro, who you killed

Baji: anyway

Baji: back to my kittens

Baji: before Draken decided to take shit too far😒

Draken: when you go low I'll go lower

Baji: cause you were almost 6 feet under???

Draken: where you put Shinichiro??

Baji: ANYWAY

Mikey: Ken-chin he's gonna kill himself again😔

Draken: that is exactly the point

Baji: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY ANYWAY

Baji: anyway

Baji: back to the topic at hand 😐

Baji: i'm doing it tonight

Mitsuya: ahem

Mitsuya: do you know how awkward it's gonna be when Kazutora rejects you? we don't wanna have to deal with that

Baji: he won't reject me

Mikey: your delusional

Baji: can you guys name a situation in which things didn't work out for me?

Baji: no you can't

Mitsuya: 1) Bloody Halloween??

Draken: 2) Your grades🤨?

Mikey: 3) Not making your mom cry🤔?

Baji: ...

Baji: those don't count

Smiley: it's so hard trying to talk to stupid people

Smiley: he doesn't use logic at all

Draken: Baji don't fucking ask them out

Mikey: ask Chifuyu!!! that f slur is obsessed with you😍

Draken: don't say that word😐

Mikey: i literally didn't say it😭

Mitsuya: Baji please just think for literally one second

Baji: too late cause i just texted them

Mitsuya: omfg

Mikey: you fool😞

Mikey: what did you say??

Baji: i went to our groupchat

Baji: "yo let's cut the bullshit. i'm in love with the both of you so why don't we all date and love each other in a relationship with all three of us and shit"

Baji: i sent that

Smiley: you're very... direct

Smiley: i'll give you that

Smiley: Kazutora's gonna say no

Draken: obviously

Baji: bet

Baji's kittens:

Kazutora: Chifuyu can you please change the fucking groupchat name

Kazutora: i know you and Baji do kinky shit together but i am NOT anybody's kitten

Chifuyu: but Baji-san changed it and i can't change it back if he doesn't want me to

Chifuyu: and Baji-san and i do not do "kinky shit"

Chifuyu: we don't have a sexual relationship😐

Kazutora: you have free will mothefucker!! you don't need his fucking permission

Kazutora: is he your dom or something😭

Kazutora: why are so obsessed with him jesus

Kazutora: you guys are gay af

Chifuyu: just because i don't stab my friends doesn't mean i'm gay

Chifuyu: i just respect him a lot cause he's cool 😒

Chifuyu: nothing you'd know about

Chifuyu: you psychopath

Kazutora: you slobber on his dick all day

Kazutora: "Baji-san!!! What a cool kick!! Can you teach me😁?"

Kazutora: you might as well just ask him to put it in

Chifuyu: shut the fuck up all you've ever known are the prison walls that enclosed you

Kazutora: NOT ANYMORE😁

Baji: ladies, ladies

Baji: there's enough to go around 😏

Baji: ew. alright i'm never using that emoji again what the fuck

Kazutora: CHANGE THE GROUPCHAT NAME

Baji: no

Kazutora: you and Chifuyu can do your pet play somewhere else please leave me out of it 🙏

Baji: nuh uh

Baji: you're a tiger

Baji: tigers are cats

Baji: so you're a kitten

Baji: done deal

Kazutora: i'm an adult tiger not a kitten😐

Baji: i'm the alpha and you and Chifuyu are my omega's

Kazutora: what the fuck does that mean????

Chifuyu: haha Baji-san😂

Kazutora: i've never seen someone ride someone else's meat so hard before holy shit

Chifuyu: if you don't understand what respect is, just say that 🙄

Baji: don't lie Chifuyu

Baji: you're in love with me

Kazutora: LMFAOOOOOOOOO

Baji: you are too Kazutora

Kazutora: 🤨

Baji: yo let's cut the bullshit. i'm in love with the both of you so why don't we all date and love each other in a relationship with all three of us and shit

Baji: you guys are in love with each other too just by the way

Kazutora: what

Kazutora: that's not how anything works

Chifuyu: Baji-san i ask again is this a prank 🤣🤣🤣

Kazutora: it has to be cause i'm not a boy kisser like you mfs

Baji: Kazutora be fr. you just got out of prison, you're clinically insane, you're on parole, people feel unsettled by your presence, you have an ankle bracelet, you belong to the state, you have mommy AND daddy issues, you've killed someone

Kazutora: damn

Kazutora: you didn't have to list it like that

Baji: all i'm saying is that i'm your best option because i don't care about all of this and i'll take care of you for the rest of your life even tho you're crazy

Baji: cause i love you (gayly)

Baji: you could even stab me again

Chifuyu: NO

Baji: Chifuyu shut the up i'll get to you babe

Chifuyu: yes Baji-san

Kazutora: "yes daddy😩😍"

Kazutora: what the fuck dude you could least try to hide it 💀

Baji: can u focus

Kazutora: oh right

Kazutora: what about gay sex tho

Baji: i'll teach you

Kazutora: but you have a dick

Baji: uhhhh

Baji: fine you can use yours

Baji: nah nevermind i'm not a bottom

Baji: fuck you

Kazutora: i didn't even say anything

Kazutora: but whatever ig

Kazutora: i'm not gonna be with Chifuyu tho😐

Baji: you are

Kazutora: 😒

Baji: Chifuyu we've been in love for years so i know you'll say yes. just needed to convince Tora babygirl

Chifuyu: but is this a prank tho🤣🤣

Baji: no

Baji: you are my boyfriend now

Baji: both of you come over

Kazutora: ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

Kazutora: fine

Chifuyu: are the both of you pranking me🤣😂

Baji: just come over you fucking idiot

Baji: that was too mean

Baji: please come over you fucking idiot❤

Captains:

Baji: they said yes and we're all about to have sex now

Mikey: you're just gonna lie Baji

Draken: should i get beers? you can cry if you want i won't even laugh at you

Draken: i promise

Mikey: you're just gonna lie Ken-chin

Mitsuya: what did they actually say

Baji: they're coming over? and we're about to make love? are you guys dumb 🤨

Baji: it worked out how i said it would

Smiley: Draken gets the beers i'll get the cigarettes

Smiley: Baji we tried to tell you

Draken: don't piss me off cause you know i don't smoke

Draken: you're gonna influence Angry into an early grave

Draken: do you want your brother to have lung cancer

Smiley: chill

Smiley: Angry tried a cigarette and almost died

Smiley: so you don't have to worry about that

Smiley: fine i'll bring weed instead

Mitsuya: where are you getting drugs😐

Smiley: my plug, duh 😁

Mikey: can i have a weed as well please

Smiley: idk man what if your dark impulses come out or something

Mikey: my therapist said that only happens with specific triggers so it's fine

Mikey: plus i have a shock collar in case that happens

Draken: i don't think that's normal 🤨

Baji: you guys are pissing me off

Mikey: dude it's fine we can comfort you even tho we told you so

Draken: i'm gonna be the better man and forgive you since you've just been rejected

Baji: yk what idgaf

Baji: i'ma just nut in my kittens

Baji: bye losers

Baji: no one does it like i do

Mikey: poor thing🙁

[pineappleciders]

helloooo!! was wondering if you could do headcanons on what it would be like to be friends with the goths from south park. :) if you could that would be awesome thanksss! 💗☺️

BEING IN THEIR FRIEND GROUP; THE GOTH KIDS

INCLUDES: pete thelman, michael, henrietta biggle, and firkle smith

they probably just saw you as another asshole conformist at first and just ignored you

as you start to get closer and bond with all of them more it's a bit confusing,,, you dress like a normie and look like one so why are you hanging out with them???

henrietta tells you that you have to dress goth if you wanna hang around them. she doesn't want to be seen with a conformist 🙄🙄

you hang out at henrietta's and she gives u a goth makeover while listening to goth music. she's converting you

when you show up at the bus stop the next day looking like edgar allen poe they just kinda check u out for a moment before giving an approving nod

despite your makeover, you still haven't really gotten into the whole death & despair thing and pete reminds u all the time to stop being such a 'goody-two-shoes', as he calls it.

"can i get an orange juice?"

"no, asshole, you have to get black coffee! god, do you know anything about goth culture??"

i can see u being firkle's babysitter and he like. threatens you to not tell ANY of the goth kids about it unless u want to die. ez blackmail

lots of nights where u all just sit on a hill and look out over stark's pond and smoke... if u won't smoke firkle and pete call you a pussy

when you hang out with any of the popular kids they get like. borderline upset and sigh and flip their hair and shit

"ugh, you're still hanging out with those guys? y'know, goths don't hang around popular greasy jocks. goths stick to their own. you wouldn't know."

they r jealous u have other friends but they're taking that to the grave

always dragging you into shit, especially if you're preppy or a straight-A student.

"i can't skip class! i have no absences, i can't stop now!"

"jesus fucking christ.."

they r kinda mean sometimes but it's tough love!!! the only one i could see really admitting he cares for u as a friend is pete, and that would be when you two are alone. if you told anyone he'd never talk to u again

u like to annoy michael as he's walking around or to class. like just follow him chatting about literally anything or poke him and watch him over his shoulder and he's going NUTS. it's so fun though

you, henrietta, and firkle dye your hair together in your teen years, like your favorite colors . michael thinks it's stupid and pete calls it gay (but secretly wants to too)

they'll never say it but it honestly makes them all really happy if they turn on gothic music and you start bobbing your head or say you like it. you might catch one of them smiling at you while you rock out but it quickly disappears

[yorshie]

APPY SLICES

Bayverse turtles x fem reader

Turtle fluff, kinda petty jealousy, nothing sexual

Second Person, no Y/N.

Inspired by a pinterest post I saw about having an office turtle and the punch line was "does the big man want his appy slices?" and it just snowballed from there

Aged up turtles

Your first vacation in a year, and you were stuck with a house guest for part of it.

Well, sort of a house guest.

You stared at the plastic kiddie pool taking up half of the living room, shoved between your TV and the L shaped desk you used as a work space. A sandy colored shell moved slowly around as Romeo explored his temporary digs, the large tortoise taking everything in with long, slow blinks.

“Boy, does your mother owe me one,” You informed him lowly, shaking out tired arms that still ached from carrying the large cat carrier up the stairwell. “Though, I guess she should be worried you won’t wanna go home on Monday. After all,” you leaned down, watched as Romeo turned those large, multicolored eyes in your direction, “I seem to have a growing collection of turtles.”

He let out a loud huff, the air whistling through his nostrils, and you snorted. “Sorry, tortoise, though I’m pretty sure the rest are turtles.”

He turned back to ignoring you, making slow movement towards the heat lamp you had attached to the back of a stool and swung over a part of his pad earlier per his owner’s instructions.

You hummed, watching him, then glanced over at your phone when it dinged from the couch.

Orange Crush: Hey babycakes, we still good to come get you after patrol? Donnie got ahold of that movie you wanted to see.

Uh oh. You bit at your nail absently, thinking, then typed back:

You guys are welcome to stop by, but I might have put a snag in movie night. I’ve got a house guest I have no idea what to do with.

You hit send, waited a beat, then hit accept before the phone even rang, expecting Leo’s name.

“Everything good?”

You decided not to comment on the speed dial. “Yea, everything’s fine. I’ve just… got a house guest.”

A beat of silence, “are you in danger?”

You frowned, stared across the room at Romeo, then had a light bulb moment as you replayed what was said. “Oh, god, Leo, no I’m fine! This isn’t a ‘help, there’s someone in my apartment’ type of thing.”

“Well that’s good,” he breathed, and you could hear his dry humor creeping in, “Though you almost gave Raph a heart attack just now.”

“Spiders almost give Raph a heart attack,” you deadpanned back. “But seriously, I’m just babysitting a pet for a friend. Um… actually.” You squinted at the tortoise sunning himself. “Don’t- don’t be weird when you guys get here.”

A longer beat of silence. “O-kay.” The word was drawn out. “We’ll be over in ten.” He hung up before you could squawk about cutting their patrol short, and you were left holding the phone comically to your ear.

Romeo chose that moment to let out a questioning chirp, his beak opening and clicking shut.

You turned your attention back to him. “Hm? You hungry, big boy? Let me go get your food.”

You got Romeo his salad, watching with slight amusement as he once again slowly moved toward the plate of offerings next to his sunken water bowl, high pitched chirps coming from him as he started to eat.

A light tap at your window pulled your attention, and you crawled over the couch to unlock the window, letting Leo do the heavy lifting to actually get it open.

“Heeeyyy,” You said, smiling brightly, trying to block the view behind you while leaning against the frame.

Leo rolled his eyes, “hey yourself. You gonna let us in?”

You pursed your lips, looking over the four of them crammed onto the fire escape, Donnie half hanging off the railing as he avoided Raph’s shell. You held up a finger threateningly. “Don’t be weird.”

You heard Raph scoff as you moved to press against the couch cushions, letting them step in over the furniture. “‘Don’t be weird’ she says to the mutant turtles.”

“Uh.” Leo pulled up short, one foot still on the couch, letting Mikey bounce off his shell as he noticed the kiddie pool.

Romeo looked up from the salad, took in the towering turtles staring back, and let out a low grumble that somehow managed to thrum through the room.

“Wow. That’s impressive.” You popped up on the couch, leaned over the arm, watching as the four turtles spread out a little, all still eyeing the kiddie pool.

“Sheesh, that’s nothing, babycakes,” Mikey said over his shoulder as he backed to the side to perch on the couch next to you, baby blues fastened on the tortoise like he’d disappear if he blinked. “That little rumble ain’t got nothing on Raph in the morning.”

“Huh. Really?” You glanced at the red turtle, but he shrugged, moving towards the kitchen counter and the cans of soda you’d set out while waiting for them.

“It ain't nothin special, sweetheart. How long you watchin mr. grumpy pants?”

Leo still hadn’t moved from his spot half on the couch, and with a huff Donnie pushed past him, the only one to take a step closer to the kiddie pool and crouch down to get a closer look.

“I have Romeo until Monday morning.” You tried not to sound too intrigued with what was happening, or not happening, but you probably failed judging by the quick look Raph threw your way, slight smirk curling his mouth as he watched you peer between Romeo and Donnie.

The tortoise had one eye on Donnie and the other on Leo, his head swiveled to the side to keep them both in sight as the ominous grumble sounded once more.

“Oh, goodness.” Donnie chuckled, perched as close to the plastic lip as he could get without touching the tortoise’s turf.

Raph whistled, long and low, as the noise lowered deeper until it was a threatening burr. Romeo snapped his beak at the sudden noise from Raph.

“Ok. What’s happening?” You asked, looking from Mikey to Raph for answers.

Mikey winced, fingers drumming out a fast staccato on his bent knees, so you turned your question to Raph, who simply shrugged.

“Donnie,” you whined, and heard him hum in answer. “What’s with the weirdness?”

“Oh, well, I suppose we’re making him a little uncomfortable.” He supplied, twisting around to address you from over Leo’s hip. Romeo let out an angry hiss, and Donnie swayed back out of sight. “Oops.”

“Now you done it,” Raph joked. “Touched the big man’s pool.”

“So I should have coached him instead of you guys?” You smirked, the notion that the bigger turtles were all being trash talked by Romeo amusing.

“Eh, probably wouldn’t have changed much,” Donnie chirped back at you, pulling another threatening beak snap from Romeo.

Raph chuckled. “Careful, Don. He might think you’re after his girl.”

“Oh so now I’m part of the problem?” You put as much sarcasm into the query as you could, moving to sit up on the couch, swaying into Leo’s space.

“Sure.” Leo answered, finally moving his foot off the couch as you brushed against him. “Bunch of big ugly rivals come into his place, touch his home, chirp at his girl. I’d be pissed too.”

“Would you?” You tried not to sound too amused, hand coming up to press against your mouth at the uptick in Leo’s cheek even as his gaze was kept on the tortoise. “So is he gonna get even more cranky if I leave with his ‘rivals’?”

“I’m sure he’ll live,” Raph pushed away from the counter, snapped his fingers under Donnie’s glasses. “Genius, quit harassing the poor dude. He’s stuck in a pool, we get to go watch a movie with his girl. Don’t rub it in.”

“Pretty sure I’ve known you guys longer than him,” You kicked out at Raph playfully as he passed close, connecting with his thigh and making him sway to avoid the pressure. “Think that makes him the interloper.”

“Ah, ok, I see how it is, you’re our girl. You want us to avenge your honor, teach this creep a lesson?” He jerked his head toward Romeo, grabbing your foot with ease as you went to kick at him again. You let out a quick giggle, jerked your foot away from his grip, leaning towards Mikey for protection as Raph made a grab for your retreating foot again.

“Hey, it’s all good babycakes, I’ll hide you from your loverboy’s rival.” Mikey lifted his arm, flashing the charm as he let you wedge yourself between his shell and the couch, feet tucked in the cushions where the larger brother couldn’t reach.

“We better get going before we rile your house guest up even more,” Leo commented, ignoring the playful banter as he stepped sideways out of Raph’s way. “You have everything you need?”

You hummed, twitching further behind Mikey as you felt the youngest brother’s fingers reach back and ghost your far side. “My bag’s in my room. Obviously, I’m gonna have to come check on Romeo tomorrow, but I think he’ll be ok for the night.”

“Especially if he doesn’t have to deal with us,” Donnie added, straightening and stepping around the pool to head down the short hallway leading to your room.

“Oh, shoot, hold on. Can’t forget.” You popped out from behind Mikey, wildly grabbing onto Leo’s arm to steady yourself as you overcorrected on the couch cushion. His forearm tensed under your hand, giving you something steady to push off of as you headed for the counter.

As you turned around with an apple and a knife, Mikey gasped. “He gets appy slices?”

“Yup, every Friday.” You responded, not looking up as you carefully started cubing the fruit.

“He’s get a treat after being an ass?” Raph sounded incredulous, and you blinked, looking up finally to find all three bigger turtles staring at the apple in your hand.

You took in the various looks of envy and mild offense, and reached behind you for the bag with the rest of the apples. “Do… do you guys want some?”

Donnie rounded the corner at that moment, stopping so hard his shoe squeaked on the floor. “He gets appy slices?”

“O-kay.” You pulled the word out long and slow, conscious that they were tracking you and the dish of apple cubes across the room to the kiddie pool. It had to be your imagination, but Romeo almost looked smug as he hurried over for the treat you set down.

Behind you, Raph made a noise of disgust deep in his throat, and you fought to keep the smile from your face as Mikey echoed the sentiment.

“I promise,” You rose and turned to face them, “I will bring the whole bag and make you guys as many appy slices as you want tonight.”

Raph took the few steps to the kitchen, grabbed the bag of apples, and crossed back over to the couch and window. His brow raised as though daring you to laugh as Mikey opened the glass and hopped out onto the fire escape.

You fought it successfully until Leo purposely bumped into you, a gentle reminder to get moving, and you followed Donnie out into the chilly air, careful as you pulled yourself over the edge of the window.

Donnie offered you a hand, grip cool and firm as he tugged you up the flight of stairs and passed you off to Raph, whose arms you curled into as he picked you up effortlessly.

“Where’s Fearless?” He asked, stepping up to glance back over the edge, and you gripped tighter as the buildings swelled down to meet the street.

Leo stuck his head out of your window as though summoned, taking a moment to close the latch before he scaled up to where the others were waiting. At Raph’s questioning look, he huffed, the lights catching briefly on his teeth.

“Just reminding Romeo down there that he’s only a house guest.”

You blinked, your face going loose with shock, “Leonardo, did you growl at that poor tortoise?”

The only answer you got was a smug smirk, and Mikey’s bright belt of laughter.

Much later, in the lair, you sat slumped in the middle of the couch, fingers sticky as you peeled yet another apple. You didn’t even bother to lean forward as you offered a slice over the edge. You weren’t sure how they knew it was there, the only light coming from the soft jewel tones of the older movie on the big screen, but the slice was always accepted, much larger fingers grazing your palm the only indication. 

You smiled, and cut off another slice.

[darkdemeter]

ONE AND THE SAME, LONELY AND AFRAID

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

—- not my gifs, found on pinterest, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

I dunno what to really say about this piece, brain just switched into angsty, (kinda fluffy?) writing mode and I went with it.

Therapy — angst — hurt comfort? — (introverted) reader — insecurity warning — semi-established mutual pining/interest — strong language — socially awkward bean reader — basically reader has a lot of reservations about things that involve other people, more of a self isolated type — self sabotage — we got a mutual-semi happy ending — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

You've always opted to be alone. Recent visits to Dr Raynor, however, work to bring down those walls you hold up. Little are you aware that someone you're talking to is very much the same as you. Lonely and afraid.

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7.6K(words)

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl

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 “Have you been keeping up with the exercises I gave you?” 

  Already she knows the answer. Not even three seconds can you maintain eye contact, eyes feeling glassy each time you near the braving point. It’s futile. People can hear what you’re saying right? Why the need to have your eyes glued to them?

  Your shoulders shove up weakly and Dr Raynor rhythmically paces the pen’s butt against her notebook. 

  “That’s a no,” she sighs, “I gave you those exercises to help you. Eye contact, let’s start with that again: what do you find so intimidating about it?”

  The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your gaze is still glued to a random place on the wall behind her. That is the closest you can give her today. 

  Her lips push together and her eyes thin in that way you assumed all of these doctors do, a tactic to unnerve you into squeezing out the details. To weed out the problems. You don’t like it. Your fingers are crushed in the grip of your other hand sitting in your lap idly. 

  Again, you shrug. “Just that. Intimidating. It’s… a lot.”

  “There’s more to it for you. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that, it terrifies you when someone looks at you. Focuses their attention on you.”

  “Maybe it’s something like that…” You tilt your head slightly. “Maybe it’s not.”

  I don’t like being here. I just wanna go. I still have fifteen minutes. 

  “Your family is worried about you. You have a tendency to be self isolating. Reserved. They’re concerned that you’ve been alone.” She’s spitting words at you. Family concerns have always been the bane of your lonely ways. Their constant insistence to put yourself out there, to go out on at least one date. 

  Try to talk you into meeting people they know, saying that they will be good for you. All because they’ve grown far too comfortable with being with someone, that they can’t stand to be alone themselves. And then, they have to project that onto you. 

  “It’s a choice.”

  “What can you tell me about your intimate life? Partners, significant others.” 

  The jutting of your pouty lip is any indication that a cheeky remark is right on the edge of your tongue. She stops you right before you can say a word. 

  “Stuff toys and pets do not count.”

  “But they’re companions. You wanna know about my companion life, right?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  It takes another five minutes. Pure and slow in time, each waver of the ticking hands beats another seconds off the appointment. But it’s not fast enough for your liking. Tongue tracing the curves of your gums and teeth, you contemplate. 

  Dr. Raynor says your name to draw your attention back - escaped into the cosmos - now forced right back into the couch in her office. 

  “Seeing someone? Talking to anyone?”

  “Sure.”

  “Anything else?” She raises a gesturing hand, a silent command for you to speak further. To give her further information. Personal information that’s yours. Safe in your head. There’s no point giving that out to others.

  “Just talking to him is all.”

  “So neither of you have met in person before?”

  Lips rolling inward, thinning, you shake your head. “No.”

  Your name is drawn from her lips as a low sigh. She scrawls something down in her notebook, albeit a little aggressively. 

  “Money is being wasted each and every time you come in here, sit on this couch and say nothing. Resolve nothing. Time is being wasted, time you could be spending out there, actually bonding with someone who you may call a friend or a significant other.”

  “I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

  Her eyes roll up to meet yours, the split second you manage to meet her eyes, you see the scrutiny. The disdaining judgement and patience that wanes thin for every drop of time in the remaining minutes left. 

  “That wasn’t even two proper seconds,” she notes, “and yet, you come to your sessions each time.”

  “Because if I don’t, then that same concerned family chews my ear off about it.”

  Another two minutes pass by. You count the ticking hands slowly. Far too slow. When will this fucking nightmare end? Dr. Raynor continues to pounce her pen on the pad’s paper, the sound a distant, drumming beat. 

  “From what I’ve gathered, your siblings all have partners of their own, some of them beginning to grow their families. Am I correct?”

  You nod as your teeth sink into the inside of your lip. “Right in the ballpark.”

  “And you are so comfortable with being alone because it’s all you know. You’re afraid of letting someone in. You rather keep your guard up than ever risk giving someone a chance to love and accept you. I have another patient just like that. Shut off from the world and distrusting.”

  It’s like she read your mind. You almost applaud her for her scooby doo investigation. “Wow, way to keep the confidentiality, Doctor,” you breeze through a forced, tight smile, eyes still cast to somewhere else in the room. “It’s better to keep people at arms length. Easier to detach from.”

  “And is that what you’re doing with this guy? Keeping him at arm’s length?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

Three minutes remaining. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

It’s almost over. 

Then it lingers on your mind… “Tell me because I’m curious, but why are people obsessed with the idea that being alone is such a bad thing?”

It’s closing in on one minute. A single minute she has to deliver you an answer. Of course, usually she disregards questions like this. But today, she indulges. Maybe, just maybe, this is your way of breaking through to her. To finally and truly give her something to work with.

  “I will tell you what I told another patient of mine. Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.”

The chiming of the appointment’s bell signifies its end. You’re eager to stand up from the couch but Dr. Raynor holds a hand up. “Before you go running off back to your lonely hell, I want you to perform at least one exercise.”

  At first, you mean to brush her off, your eyes refuse to meet the piercing stare you know is burrowing into your soul, seeking you out in the darkness of your reservations. “Alright. Sure…”

  “If you’re interested in this guy, I want you to make the first move and ask to meet up with him. Begin to lower your walls.”

  You’ve done it. Just as she asked of you. In hindsight, you should have just ignored her. In honesty, it’s been a while since your heart has bruised your ribs with such intensity in its anxious rage. What if he said no? Neither of you had ever really flirted heavily or indicated that you were head over heels, eager to see each other. 

  As if you both just knew, you were each settled comfortably in this mutual exchange of words. No video, no voice messages or calls. Just words. Conversations about work, some random things happening during the week and other topics people chat about. 

  You were meant to feel brave in that moment. To feel invigorated as you take that daring leap of faith outside the comfort of your own space. A safety net you had taken great care to curate, to save yourself from ever falling to the ground with no will to get back up. 

  In your mind, you’ve seen your siblings go through enough failed relationships that it in some strange way, you’ve experienced it on some outside level. You’ve gained the knowledge that if you let someone - a stranger - in then they will find a way to hurt you one way or another. 

  But what about that lucky person? That destined soulmate everyone raves on about. Could you really stand going through failure after failure, after seeing the damage it caused your loved ones? 

  Why risk it? I’m just putting a target on my heart that says “hurt me, please!”.

  However, with the following silence after, you believe you had your answer. He wasn’t interested in you. He just wants to remain mutuals. You understand that, you accept it wholeheartedly. It saves you from getting hurt, from him getting hurt and that’s all that matters.

  Having your heart broken because you allowed love to blind you to rational thought isn’t something you’re wanting to bring to one of your appointments. 

  Around ten minutes later he responded. His answer leaves you in a state on the bathroom floor, on your arse, back pressed against the sink cabinets and your chest heaving for any amount of oxygen. The world’s closing in around you, it’s turning against you. Eyes watering until your waterline is drowning and blurry, your hands rake through your hair and grasp at the roots.

  The olive branch you extended is received by him whilst your mind spirals into the pools of doubt and sabotage. He’s accepted your bold invitation.

  How can I go on a date? I can’t keep eye contact, I don’t know how to act or what to say! 

  What do we talk about in person? How much is too much?

  Maybe it was a mistake. Would it be rude if you pretended it was a joke? You think it over once, then twice. It plays on repeat what you plan to say to get out of this ordeal you’ve now thrown yourself into. You get another notification that lights up your phone screen. 

    Be nice to finally meet you     7 tomorrow night sound good? ┗ 

    Sure! 7 sounds good heh ┗ 

   there’s a place not far from where I live I like to go to.. unless there’s somewhere else you wanna go ┗ 

Ugh, why does that sound so… so… desperate? I should probably call it off right now before this gets out of hand. 

   I’ll see you there Doll just name it ┗ 

  Your heart flutters at the nickname. It makes you feel childish and you cringe that you find yourself swooning over it, but every time he uses it, there’s something that makes you feel special. Like you’re the only one he calls that. After you text him the address, you pass the phone away, leaving it to sit on the sink’s edge. Hands cupping your face, the tears still seeping along the rim of your eyes with a fighting intent to be free. For so long you have kept them bottled up. 

  And now to be faced with this. You don’t feel ready to be doing this. Your fingers had been hovering over the keys, mind already texting that you had made a silly joke just to see how he’d react. But Dr. Raynor’s words from earlier that day crept into the forefront of your mind, stopping you in your tracks.

  ‘Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.’

“You haven’t been having nightmares lately. That’s good,” Dr. Raynor says, notebook sitting in absence on her folded leg, pen loose between her fingers. So far, she hasn’t had to write much. A few notes, a sentence or two. Overall, she sees a little more progress. Even if it’s just a little.

  “And the girl you’re talking with. Have you two been communicating much lately? Do you think that, maybe, she could be a benefiting factor?”

  “We’ve been talking,” Bucky answers with a nod, voice rumbly. “I don’t know.”

  “Your nightmares stem from the decades of trauma that still need to be thinned out of your system. And there are outlets that can help with the healing process. Nurturing relationships is one of them.”

  As if he hasn’t heard that line before. Being told to nurture his relationships.

  “Tell me more about her. What’s been going on between you both?” For a moment, Bucky remains quiet. His teeth roll his bottom lip, biting down before his lips part. Gaze once settled elsewhere, his eyes find hers with firm contact. 

  The type of contact she wishes she can see from you.

  “She’s asked to meet up. I’m seeing her tonight.”

  “I understand you two have been talking for a while. Around three months now, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

   “And… How does that make you feel? You finally have a chance to meet someone face to face and take this relationship to the next stage.”

  The question had come right out of the blue for Bucky. After a day out in the field with Sam, all he wanted to do was shower, have a beer and see if you had messaged him. And the conversation had carried out like normal with asking about each other’s day, followed by some playful banter. And then, Bucky was faced with the one topic that had been on his mind for the past few weeks, plaguing him with the idea of possibly meeting each other after all this time, to put a face to a name. 

  But to think that this could bridge into something further. Something far more intimate. Bucky’s shoulders push up with a heavy sigh. 

  “I dunno, Doc. I’ve been thinking about meeting her. But being by myself for so long now, it’s normal for me.”

  Dr. Raynor squares her shoulders, eyes staring point blank like the barrel of a gun at her patient. “A hurdler doesn’t avoid the obstacles. You have to take that leap, James, and explore these new possibilities before they slip through your fingers. From what you’ve told me, she sounds similar to you.”

  “And if things don’t go as I hope? If she pulls away?”

  “Then pull her closer. And give her the chance to pull you closer. Start to trust in someone outside of those walls.”

  You pace back and forth along the wide strip sidewalk, the night’s air chills you through your clothing. But at this point that could just be the nerves. Why did you have to be bold, why did you have to actually listen to Dr. Raynor? Arriving just a little before the agreed time, you took the time to rehearse things over. Maybe squeeze in a little practice before you make a complete idiotic display of yourself. 

  By now, you guess it’s just past 7. How the hell are you supposed to know who he is if you’ve never seen one another before? Man, now that you think about it, you really didn’t think this through. 

  Last time I do any of these fucking exercises…

  Quickly stealing a glance down at your phone to get a read on the time, you see you’ve received no message yet. 

  Maybe he… changed his mind last minute?

  Well that really makes you look like an idiot. Shit, you really could slap yourself into tomorrow for getting baited into your own doings. You barely register the thrumming heart of a motorcycle’s engine roaring down the street beside you, purring lowly to a stop. 

  You shrug to yourself suddenly, the leaping of your heart coaxing your anxiety to grow further, as doubt shrouds over. Your feet shuffle to carry you back in the direction of your favourite ice cream joint. Might as well pick up a little frosty snack on the way back home.

  “Okay, I’m stupid. He’s not— oop–!” Someone is the poor victim of your distracted escape, their body is large and broad, arms circling around you to catch you from tripping onto the hard concrete. 

  “Oh, shit! Sorry!” you groan, eyes quick to seek out a face only to glimpse away as soon as you note the intensity of bright blue; gaze focused solely on you as if you were the only thing that existed. 

  “All good,” he says. His voice only brings to shake you, slightly husky and the oh so perfect pitch. You do your best to straighten yourself and from his hold, out of habit, you’d grown used to not being touched unless you were the one to initiate it. A skill - or rather lack thereof - you’re not very proud of. Not that members of your family made it any easier whenever they pointed it out. 

  Distant. Closed off. Stiff. 

  “You okay?” he asks. 

  “Yeah, yeah, I was… just uh, was meeting up with a guy.”

  “Hmph, me too,” he breezes with a deep exhale. You try to ignore the way your peripheral picks up on his body’s outline moving. “She wanted to meet here.” 

  “Huh, good spot. One of my small hang out spots.” Your balled fists only curl tighter into the pockets of your jacket as another chilling wind attacks your body. Maybe you should settle on a hot beverage instead of some ice cream. 

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Really nice.”

  You both stand idle by one another, the air beginning to lace heavily with the tension of your interaction, both awkward in your butting spaces. Bucky spares a more studying glance at you. A sleeveless, cropped turtleneck with a leather, hooded jacket layering over, you opted to keep the palette simple with your dark, skinny jeans and heeled boots. 

  You looked dressed up to be on some casual date. Whoever it was you were waiting on was a lucky guy, Bucky thought. In no disrespect to the girl he was messaging, but he figured he would have shot his shot with you had it not been for this mystery girl. 

  “You hang around here a lot?” he questions to come off as casual and laid back as possible. 

  “Oh, sure. Yeah… I like it here.”

  Bucky finds himself smiling at your response. Strange, he figures, how you seem familiar. Still, he catches on that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at your face. It’s like you're purposefully avoiding looking at him. Did you know him? The aided curse of his sensitive hearing allows him to hear the rapid racing of your heartbeat, like a poor hamster terrified out of its mind. 

  You can feel him staring at you with the occasional glimpse down at his phone, held in his gloved hand. 

  “Goodluckwithyourdate. Bye.” You say it far too quickly, it takes Bucky a moment to decipher what you’ve said. His head snaps back and forth in a double take, catching you already walking down the sidewalk, huddled in close to shield yourself. How he knows that feeling internally. 

  Now you’ve gained his full attention. For Bucky, there was some missing piece to all this. He’s quick to type. Just a little experiment…

   Here, Doll, just waiting on you  ┗ 

His jaw tightens, teeth clenching in his observation. You stop when your phone buzzes to life in your pocket. Retrieving it, you read the message. Bucky only has to wait for about a minute before he sees the message. 

   Ha, I was here first. Where are you?? ┗ 

   You tell me Doll…  ┗

    you don’t happen to be wearing knitted gloves, right? ┗  

  Your brows furrow for a moment. How could he know, you haven’t even–

  Slowly, you lift your eyes from the blaring screen of your text messages. He now knew it and to think he’s the guy you were waiting on. If anything, this is some fortunate, golden strike. 

  As your gaze moves to fall over your half turned shoulder that faces back towards him, he manages to catch half of your visage and the radiant haven of your eyes, what little you allow to show. 

  “I take it you’re Y/N.” He smiles a toothy smile. With any luck, his attempt to charm will work. 

  “And you’re Bucky?”

  He nods in response and you let yourself wander forwards, phone tucked away and your arms folded together. 

  “I–I, uh… wow, this is embarrassing ,” you all but mutter to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

  “How so?”

  “I suck at meeting people,” you utter a little louder. Your shoulders shrug with the motion of your confession. You only dread the look in those blue eyes that you can’t bring yourself to glance up into. What if you see something that gives away his intentions? What if you give away what’s going on in your own mind to him, for him to see all the fear right there like an open book to be read. Knowledge to be obtained and used against you. 

  “Maybe if you looked at people once and a while,” he chuckles. 

  Oh… he likes someone who can maintain eye contact. 

  “Yeah, what a shame. Oh well, nice meeting you.” 

  The abruptness cuts him. Wounds him like a dark chill that runs his spine. His shoulders straighten then and the bevel between his brows grows in depth, the puzzlement of his confusion evident on his face that you don’t take the time to read. Not when he can easily catch contact with your now glossy eyes. 

  Again, you’re making off in a hurry. 

  Pull her closer, it’s the only thought that crosses his mind. 

  “Wait, wait up!” he calls out quickly, voice sharp that he sees your entire body flinch at the command, but you carry on. He doesn’t want to scare you away. His gloved hand cups over your elbow. 

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says with a sigh, “I’m bad at meeting people at times too.”

  “Really?” You don’t mean to sound distrusting, if he interpreted it that way, each to their own at the end of the day. 

  “Yeah, that whole… dating scene is crazy these days.”

  You cannot find yourself more inclined to agree with that. Seeing how much the world has changed around you, and you’re only in your twenties. Plenty of more room to change. Thinking about the future is what you consider an anxiety inducing pass time, one you try not to get carried away with. 

  “Tell me ‘bout it,’ you huff. You flex your ankle, the heel scuffing softly against the pavement, hopefully grinding some form of inspiration to make you less awkward. Though you fear the damage has been done. 

  He chuckles. “Glad we’re agreeable in person. C’mon, mind giving me a tour of your little hang out?”

  “Sure,” you agree with a small smile, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair, “I know a little place up this way.”

  “I like your gloves,” Bucky says, clicking his tongue, when spared a moment he glances off to the side in his miserable cringe, what the hell was that move?

  But he didn’t expect for your chin to be raised a little higher and a much warmer smile to grace your lips. Wow, he still couldn’t get over it. A cute, beautiful girl like yourself happening to be the one he’s been communicating with all this time. 

  “Thanks.” You suppress a giggle, the sound small in your throat. “Look. Glove twins.”

  Seeing you raise your gloved hand up, he saves you from any further embarrassment and meets yours almost immediately, palms straight and pressed together in a mockery to a high five. 

  “Well, look at that.” His lips tug into an amused grin.

  For a second you meet his gaze, but as quick as anything, the connection is lost. As you drop your hand back to your side, you feel warmth creep into your cheeks. How your lack of eye contact can be a burden at times. All you want to do is look at this guy, get a read of him without the need to sneak fleeting glances whenever you could. 

  All you can settle on now is that he’s down right cute. Handsome. 

  No way this guy is single. How some chick could just give him a false number. My number. 

  You wander further down the street together, side by side, occasionally arms brushing against one another before you stop and jab a thumb at the small bar. “Here it is. Heh, quaint place. I, uh… like coming here. Obviously.”

  While he’s distracted with his observation, you take a few seconds to actually look at him.

  Casually dressed, so much like yourself. Chiselled features, intense yet stunning eyes you believe you’ve ever seen, and broad. Damn well towering high above you. Next to him, you feel like a gummy bear. Why that comparison, you have no idea, but you find it fitting. 

  Thus so far he doesn’t put himself as intentionally dangerous or harmful, not towards you anyway. You’d bet all that’s in your wallet he’d cause some serious damage if he wanted to. 

  “Nice little joint.” You hum softly and nod in agreement, eyes sinking low to instead scan the fabric of his jacket instead of his reaction when you know his gaze is on you. 

  You bob your head in the direction of the door, indicating him to follow you inside. But Bucky, if anything, was raised in the century of etiquette and manners. Especially in the company of a woman. Your smaller, gloved hand reaches for the door until his own comes forward, pulling the door open for you. 

  “After you, Doll.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  Again, that warm crimson settles in your cheeks, causing the rest of your body to heat up, soon enough you won’t need the gloves and jacket to keep you warm. 

You lead him over to a window booth, sliding in over the overworn cushions and he takes the one opposite you. Not too soon after does the regular waitress greet you with a pearly smile, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. 

  “Y/N!” she gasps widely, “So good to see you. What can I get you and your man tonight?” She flashes a wink down towards you both. Out of sheer interest, Bucky’s eyes drift to land on you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly into a smirk. 

  “Wh– he, oh no, he’s not– we’re not… just the regular, thanks.”

  Tongue tied. You fucking hate situations that plant you on the spot, on your arse. Like an ungraceful landing after jumping the wagon. Fuck, you’re making yourself look even more weird in front of him. Why this sudden need to act like a normal human being around him is present, you find it confusing. But from trial and error, you’ve always somehow managed to mark yourself as a strange one. 

  It was better to keep things short between interactions. But with Bucky, something has come over you that makes you want to trust him. Be open with him. But you know you can’t. People can hide their true nature for lengths at a time that they deem necessary. You’re not about to give this guy a loaded gun to turn on you. 

  With a nod, the waitress nods and writes down in her notepad, she looks to Bucky expectantly. 

  “I’ll have what she’s having and can we get two beers with the order.” 

  “Can do. That will be with you both shortly.” With an affirmative nod, the waitress heads off to deliver the new order. 

  “If you just want to dip any time during… this, then I understand.” For the second time tonight, Bucky’s face contorts with deeply rooted confusion. His smile is the product of his being unsure whether you’re serious or joking. “Why would I do that?”

  Your shoulders move up sharply with a shrug. 

  Because you don’t want to be around me. 

  “I’m not leaving you by yourself. You asked to meet up and I’m here.” 

  Touching words that you wish to believe in them wholeheartedly. Surely though, he’s only saying that out of courtesy. 

  “I tend to stay out pretty late towards the weekend.”

 Now it’s his turn to shrug. “So do I.”

  Once the food and beers arrived, you found it easier to distract yourself, able to roll the bottle between your hands, feeding off of your meal bit by bit throughout conversation. 

  “Like I said before, don’t feel obligated to stay out late. Don’t want to keep your girl waiting.” A small tactic, albeit you disbelieve that it’s very discreet, it’s an obvious tell that you want to know if he’s single or not. You’re no expert in the dating pool but that just has to be right up there in some top ten listed prompts.

 “Not leaving you. I don’t have a girl waiting on me, don’t worry, Doll.” You almost choke on your next bite, drowning it down your throat with a gulp of beer. You almost meet his eyes, opting to focus just below them. There is absolutely no way in hell this guy is single. 

  Bucky figures he’d shoot his shot, now that the identity of mystery girl and you were one and the same. 

  “Hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind I’m stealing you for the night.”

   Why did he word it like that?!

  “Ha. Boyfriend,” you sigh, mouth pinching towards the side. Briefly, you notice the furrow in his brows. 

  Dammit, why is he so fucking cute?

  “No boyfriend,” he drawls lowly over the rim of his bottle. 

  You shake your head. “Nope.” 

  He can tell by the way you roll the singular word, emphasising the p with a sharp popping sound. Bitterness. 

  “Why?” He watches you intently as he takes a drink of his beer, meanwhile, you're turning your bottle left and right, like trying to crack the code to some safe. 

  Didn’t want to risk getting hurt. 

  “Just…” You pause with a heavy sigh, heat covers your eyes that you now direct to stare down at the table. “Never made the effort, if I’m honest.”

  “You like being alone.”

  “Prefer it, actually. Easier that way.”

  Of that, Bucky completely understands. After everything he’s been through, being alone has just made things simple. Lonely but simpler. He notices the many couples and maybe it would be nice to have someone there. But how can he find normalcy after everything he’s done? Is he deserving of it?

  He wants peace. Dr. Raynor believes that’s bullshit but she can’t understand that he wants peace for himself. To feel comfortable. Accepted. Perhaps loved, if any deity or supernatural entity from above condones it.

  But then, why are you so comfortable in your loneliness? He wonders about it.

  “My doctor keeps telling me to try and engage with people. Open up. That sort of shit.” 

  “Mine too.”

  Another funny coincidence you both find in each other. During your time talking over text, you both managed to find out you attended doctor appointments. Therapy and not by your own choice either. By some other force that dictated you needed help. 

  “People are so afraid of being alone these days. World’s dangerous, sure, but so are the people you thought you could trust. But people are desperate, I guess. They’ll risk it.”

    Bucky cannot help the way the corner of his eyes curl slightly, lips stretching into a pursed smile to contain his amusement as much as possible. 

  “What?” you ask, head tilting slightly, your eyes having now settled on the booth’s texture right over his shoulder. 

  He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You often on the defensive when it comes to people?”

  “Have to be. Don’t know their intentions. Could be anything.”

  “And what about me?”

  You shrug again, gaze torn between meeting his and keeping it far, far away. “Like you said before, if I looked at people once and a while. But I can’t. So I’ll never know, I guess.”

  He frowns slightly at this. If your body language is telling him anything right now is that his question pushed you into a corner. You felt trapped when confronted by his curiosity. You didn’t answer him, not exactly, but if your response did anything it’s that you tend to avoid answering when you get pushed. 

  You don’t seem to be the overly aggressive type up front. But if backed into that corner, that is when you may very well lash out. A defensive tactic. A once victim tactic. 

  Both of you are pulled from the thicket of your scattered thoughts and silence when the waitress returns with the check. You begin to shuffle around in your pocket, obtaining your half of the meal when Bucky stops you. 

  “My treat,” he says and hands his money to the blonde worker. 

  “N-no, that’s okay. I’m fine with paying my side.”

  He tuts you with a shake of his head, eyes penetrating your very soul for the moment you meet it. 

  Don’t look at me like that please… heart’s going too fast. Just let me pay for my food. 

  “I was born and raised in a time that I pay for the date. Let me cover it.” 

  Not that you have much choice to argue. He’d already handed off the money and the waitress took away your finished plates and beers. 

  Your bottom lip curls outwards into a pout. You feel bad that he felt like he had to do that. For him to pay out more than what was required. 

  In that regard, he leans back slightly, chin held higher a little more. He believes he’s won this round. But if anything, you’re adamant to pay him back.

  “Here.” You slide the bill towards him, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly to your challenge. “Just accept it, please? I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t waste your money.”

  Reluctantly, he nods and accepts the money and you mumble a soft thanks. 

    Time flew by as you both wandered together, giving him a general tour of the area. Small bouts of banter passed between you both, and general topics of discussion like work and time passers were made to fill the void of silence. Even still, you kept everything at surface level, never really exploring any deeper thoughts, much like him. But those very rare glimpses were only brief glimpses into one another’s life. 

  At least you both could report to your respective doctors that you tried, still in the dark that Dr. Raynor was the host of your separate appointments. 

  Coming through the way you came you reach your initial meeting spot, the sidewalk more open with people now on their way back home at the later hour. 

  “No, Sam just talks too much,” Bucky grumbles in his chuckle, an amused grin forming on your lips. He could just make out the rows of teeth. 

  “Sounds like a fun guy.”

  “Definitely.” You hear the grumbling breathlessness in his tone. When he glimpses to his side he finds your eyes, quick to steal whatever he can get of those capturing colours that are far too swift to avert. 

  Fuck. Can’t even make it to five seconds. I’m getting nowhere with this eye contact exercise.

Following him, he leads you over to his bike and your eyes narrow curiously. So it was him that owned the motorcycle you heard earlier that evening. 

  “I guess this is where we part ways for the night.” You bounce your head in the direction of your place. “Was good finally meeting you, Bucky.”

  That didn’t sit well with him. A lot can happen on the walk back to your place and he didn’t feel completely ready to let you go for the night. Eyes tearing between you and his bike with quick thinking, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. He hoists a leg over his bike, straddling the seat and rolling his arm to beckon you closer. 

  “Why don’t we go for a quick ride? Then I’ll drop you home.”

  “Nah, besides I’ve never… I-I’m good. I like the walk home.”

  Bucky is quickly picking up a sort of pattern. Still, he can’t shake the need to just hang around you a little longer, nor the guilt he’d have for just leaving you. Chivalry at its finest, he shakes his head sternly, dismounting the bike, you see the way his body moves fluently with the action.

  Fucking stop doing that!

  Your mind is dancing two different dances. Rational thought and that bubbly, giddiness that often leads swooning victims into blinded trouble. 

  “Alright, we’ll walk together then.” 

  “Wait– you can’t just leave your–”

  He begins to lead you off in the direction you’d motioned to before. “I’ll come back for it.”

  “Bucky.” He sees the defiant pout and crossing of your arms. Indeed, a cute sight to behold.

  He smirks, and shit, you couldn’t meet anything above the bridge of his nose then, but did you admire what you could. 

  “It’s your call. We can either walk or take the bike.”

  He’s played a few rounds of this game already with you. Numerous times you’ve had to choose between one option or the other, a few of those being a tad embarrassing, but his assurance provided some semblance of comfort. 

  But what felt like a game before now feels like more than that now. Before it was fun, easy and not serious. This, however, was not a round you can simply forfeit from. It’s either option one or two. 

  Your chest expands with a large inhale. Blinking, you contemplate and weigh the options. “We’ll take the bike.” 

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make a rider out of you, Doll.” It didn’t help the flush that scorches and freezes your body simultaneously when he adds a wink to his witty flirtations. 

  You try to not let it get to you. Not to let goosebumps riddle your skin and send your nerves endings aflame. But he’s making it hard. He leads you back towards the bike and he grabs the helmet. 

  “Here, you can use this.” 

  You focus on the protective helm and though you mean to protest, worried about what he’d do about himself, he’s already tucking your head in. 

  You make a small noise as he wriggles it in place and through the visor, you can finally meet his eyes. 

  With the blacked out visor to shield your eyes, you finally and truly admire the - unfortunately muted - hue of blue that entrances you, intense as the hottest levelled flame. He’s smiling down at you.

  “How’s it fit?”

  “Good!” you call, giving him a thumbs up. He nods with that assurance and directs you to mount the bike behind him. But you’re going shy on him and he cocks his head slightly, brows knitted in their concern. 

  Even when you preferred to be the one to initiate contact, that didn’t mean you were used to or fond of it. What if you held him too tightly, or what if you touched him somewhere he wasn’t comfortable with.

  Mounting the bike behind him, you at first put about an inch or two of space between you both. “Get on closer.” 

  You fail to hide the mousey squeak when his hands pull at your thighs, tugging them forward until they rest against him, your hands find purchase on the broad space of his shoulders. 

  He does it cautiously, he seeks out your wrists when they slide down the scape of his back, and you - warily - let him pull them around his torso. He exhales slowly, giving himself a second to comprehend having your hold around him. Why does he feel this way? Now that he has you like this, he can’t bear to think about losing it.

  “Hold on tight now,” he instructs and with a heavy bob of your head, thanks to the helmet, he lets the engine purr to life and he feels your arms grow a little tighter. 

  Rolling the bike back a little, he lets a car pass by before he speeds off down the way, the bike’s roar pulses through your entire body until for sure you’ve gone numb and you only hold onto Bucky tighter. 

  The surge of adrenaline fills you until you’re on high, blood boiling hot in your veins as he flies through the traffic. For taking things usually at your own pace, it felt good to have a little speed kick in. 

  Taking a sudden turn to the left would have made you question your decision to take the bike - should have scared you - but it didn’t. Not with Bucky. For what feels like ages now, you feel that you can trust him.

  “How you doing back there?” he asks, straining his voice to yell over the bike’s power. You doubt very much he’d be able to hear you, not when you only just managed to hear him, you opt to nod your head vigorously. He feels it against the muscles of his back and his lips tug upwards. 

  Accelerating slightly more, he feels your body grow giddy, jostling a little as you laugh behind him while he weaves through traffic. It really shows that you’ve never been on a bike before now. And since that’s the case, he’s determined to make it an unforgettable experience. 

  With any wishful thinking, you’ll want to go for another ride with him. 

  Bucky puts the now overwhelmed engine to rest for a little while, all thanks to his plan to impress you. “Here we are.” He lets his eyes rake over the few story building, a little settlement of apartments, currently parked round back that shows a short paved walkway to your backdoor. Going through the front door was usually hectic with your neighbours, good people honestly, but after a tiring day it could get a bit much.

  This way, you could be left alone. 

  “This is me,” your voice says through the helmet. You dismount before him and unlike Bucky, your movements aren’t as well versed. But for him, that just adds to your charm. 

  You let him stand close to you as he retrieves his helmet, being gentle to pry it off. 

 Once that visor is gone, so too does your resolve to look into his eyes, the connection lost with the helmet’s absence.

  “Thanks for driving me home. I… had a good time.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bucky’s lips thin into a smile. This was it then, the end of your little outing together. He doesn’t want to come off strong but how can he be so sure that you’ll be so bold again? How long would he have to wait?

  That’s why he’s pulling you closer again. It may be scary but at this point, he’s willing to risk it, if it means to have another meeting with you. To see you again.

  “Well, goodnight Bucky. I’ll talk to you—” You’d only begun to turn towards the narrow walkway when you’re stopped. Pulled back until you’re practically flushed against Bucky’s front. He’s pressing something into the palm of your hand. Thin, like paper. Peering down, you see the bill you’d given him. 

  However, you don’t have any other choice when his other hand tilts your chin up. 

  Oh no.

  “Give me five seconds,” he breathes out, voice hopeful. Your chin trembles, only just able to look at him through your lashes, but even then your focus dives downward, but his fingers remain to keep your head from bowing. 

  “I-I can’t…”

  “You can. Take your time.”

  Why he’s doing this, you have no clue, and why he’s willing to be patient; it’s just downright confusing. Who in their right mind would have time for this? At times, you barely have enough time to deal with your own shit.

  To save himself from waiting for a literal eternity, you rip the bandaid, and you meet his eyes. No visor, no secretive glimpses here and there stolen. You stare straight up, right into those blues that can very well drown you. 

  Your lungs tighten and struggle to maintain a steady pattern, you feel the welling of tears glass over your eyes with each second you count. Slowly. 

  One… two… 

  His eyes remain gentle with you. Tender and kind. You’re not seeing anything… bad, like he wants to hurt you. he could be hiding it really well. But for yourself, you’re sure he can see every single rational and irrational fear, every painful memory in your teary eyes. Your vision begins to cloud, like the fight to stay above the crashing waves. 

  Three… four…

  Buck’s hand lowers slowly but you don’t register it. You can’t. It’s something that occurs in the background, unattuned to it. You see in those wonderfully coloured hues that he's just as haunted as you are or even more. 

  He’s lonely as you are. Afraid as you are. Shadows of his own past, you can see them. Made him into the person he is in front of you. And you can’t blame him, no matter what it is that haunts him. 

  You see a once victim in him just as much as you see in the mirror every morning. 

  “Same time next Friday?” he asks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. His chest expands as he holds his breath. 

  “Sure.” You share a smile between you two, cheeks glowing warm and bright red. 

  “I’ll pick you up.” 

  Him leaving the proximity of your personal space leaves you gasping for air, blinking the tears in your eyes rapidly, you watch him retreat to his bike. Until next Friday, you’d wait to see him then. 

  “Talk soon, Doll,” he calls out with a wave once he’s atop his vehicle. Looking at it now, you can still feel the vibrations in your legs. 

  “Mhm. Until then.” 

  You take your leave then, entering your apartment and shutting the door behind you in tandem with him riding off into the night. Planting your back against the door to ground you does little to affect, still you’re floating. 

  This new feeling welling inside your chest, a flutter in your stomach… It scares you. Is this feeling why people are afraid to be alone? You don’t know what to think. 

  All you do know is that you gave him ten seconds.