#By the time I wrote all this down midnight passed so it's no longer the anniversary

[fear-is-truth]

slow down ── dilf! peter maximoff x f! reader

⟡ NSFW || MINORS DNI 18+

⟡ TAGS: sexual content ・ fem!reader ・dilf!peter ・ unprotected p in v・ english is not my first language so bear with me・not proofread ・word count: 1,831

⟡ SYNOPSIS: domestic life with peter

a/n: i just finished my assignment for criminal law & wrote this fic with the aid of monster energy. kindly ignore the atrocious writing lol

“Hey kiddo! Bedtime!” Peter called down the hallway. He waited, silence.

“You’re not in bed yet! I���m gonna have to tickle ya to sleep if ya don’t get moving!”

Still nothing—except the faint sound of a stifled giggle. Peter’s lips twitched into a smile.

Game on.

He leisurely made his way down the hall, towards the living room, passing Luna’s bedroom door without sparing a glance.

“Huh, that’s weird,” he wondered out loud, playing it up.

“Where’s my kid? I swear I had one, like, five minutes ago.”

Peter exaggerated his search, peeking behind the curtains and glancing under the furniture. More giggles, and he nearly broke character with his own grin. He then made a big show of scratching his head in faux puzzlement.

“Nope, no kid here. Oh well,” he sighed dramatically. “Hmm, could’ve sworn I heard something. Maybe it’s a mouse. Or a cookie thief…”

At that, Luna couldn’t hold it in any longer. She popped out from behind the armchair.

“Noooo! Daddy, I’m here!” she squealed, bursting into laughter. Peter spun around, feigning surprise. “There you are! Thought I’d have to call the FBI or somethin’!”

Squealing with delight, the five-year-old bolted down the hallway as fast as her little legs could carry her. Peter was on her in an instant, zooming past you with a playful wink before scooping her up into his arms, spinning her through the air.

“You’re getting too fast for me, kiddo,” he grunted, as he carried her towards her bedroom, the little girl squirming in his grasp and laughing hysterically.

You leaned against the doorway, amused by the back-and-forth that had become so routine.

“Peter, you’re supposed to be calming her down, not winding her up.”

“I’m working on it,” he called back, depositing his daughter onto her bed and tucking the blanket around her.

“Fine, but when she’s bouncing off the walls at midnight, you’re the one getting up with her.”

Peter shot you a smirk, showing that he knew exactly what he was doing. He reached down and ruffled Luna’s hair, earning another giggle from her,

“Alright, peanut. Let’s make a deal. One more story—only one—Deal?”

Luna’s eyes lit up, and she bounced in her bed. “Deal!”

“Peter,” you reminded him, stepping into the room with a raised eyebrow, “you said ‘one more story’ three stories ago. She’s going to be up all night at this rate.”

Your husband grinned innocently.

“C’mon, what’s one more story? Just gotta make sure she’s really tired.”

He turned toward the bookshelf, fingers dancing over the colorful spines.

“Which one are we reading tonight? Something super long, I bet.”

She giggled, pointing at a well-worn book. “That one, Daddy!”

He picked it up, settling onto the edge of the bed as Luna snuggled under the blankets. “Alright, one loooong story, but then it’s off to dreamland. Yeah?”

•••

After Luna was sound asleep in her bed, and you’ve done your playful striptease, it was time for you to free Peter from his jeans. In the process of removing his belt, your fingers accidentally brushed the strain in his crotch.

“Mghmm… careful there babe.”

He inhaled sharply, and you indulged in the temptation, gently rubbing him through the denim with your left hand while unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper with your right.

His body pressed against yours, and you felt the soft push as the back of your legs met the edge of the mattress. With a smirk, Peter wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You let out a delighted squeal, soft giggles filling the space between kisses as your fingers clung to his shoulders for support. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, feeling the heat of his cock press against your abdomen.

“Please, Peter. I want you, so bad.”

And that was all your husband needed to hear. He laid you gently on the mattress before crawling forward, positioning himself to settle between your legs. Breathlessly, you gripped his shoulders and lifted your hips slightly, moving in sync with him as he lined himself up. Peter began to slowly ease himself into you, groaning into your shoulder, warm puffs of his breath tickling your skin.

He paused for a moment for you to adjust, before pushing further until he was fully sheathed inside you. The delicious stretch of your pussy was nothing short of glorious.

“Oh god… Nghmm — Peter,”

You whined, tightening your grip and leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin as he started moving. He slowed down mid-thrust to mumble against your cheek,

“Love you too baby,”

Peter rested his chin on your shoulder, placing hot kisses along the column of your throat as he moved, He shifted his hips to find a better angle, and you gasped when you felt his tip nudge against your cervix. Your spine arched and your heels dug into his back as he thrust into with such force that your body slid a few inches towards the headboard, the sheets creasing around you.

“A-ahhh— fuck–”

A strained moan tumbled from his lips when he sheathed himself to the hilt. You can tell by the vein popping on Peter’s neck that he wanted to lower his head, but he was fighting every instinct to keep his eyes focused on you, chocolate irises fixated as you both begin to ascend towards the precipice.

The sight of him, biting his lips and brows furrowed in such concentration made the hot coil in your belly tighten. Supporting his weight on one elbow, Peter slipped his other hand down between your legs, and his fingers—those magical fingers started working your clit almost frantically.

“Please— ohmygod, Peter,”

you babbled, clenching your quivering thighs and throwing your head back when he bottomed out once again. His tip was pressed snugly against your cervix, and you swore you could feel him poke into your stomach, but that did nothing but stir your body into overdrive. You heels dug into his backside, anchoring him as the familiar warmth of his come spurted into your womb. Instinctively, the walls of your pussy clamped tightly around his cock, milking him dry.

“C’mon, baby,” Peter mumbled as he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the mouth, “wan’ you to cum for me, yeah? Cum all over my cock.”

The few seconds between you seemed to stretch into eternity before the coil finally snapped, waves of intense, white-hot pleasure alight your bloodstream as your pussy convulsed around his cock. You placed your palms to either side of his face, his eyes trying desperately to find a part of you to focus on.

•••

Moonlight streamed in through the window, bathing a silvery glow over your bedroom as you lay tangled up in each other, legs intertwined beneath the sheets. Peter smirked lazily as he traced a finger along your arm.

“Y’know, I think ‘m finally starting to get the hang of this whole ‘normal life’ thing. Not as fast-paced as I’m used to, but it’s not so bad,”

You laughed softly, nestling your head against his bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“You? Normal life? That’s a stretch.”

“Hey, I can be normal,” he defended with a grin, though the glint in his eyes said he didn’t really mind being anything but. “I did the dishes tonight. That counts, right?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, letting your hand rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You stuffed them into the dishwasher in like a nanosecond. Doesn’t really count when you’re cheating with super speed.”

Peter chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Alright, alright. But I still nailed bedtime. Got Luna to bed without any major disasters—except maybe that story where I gave the dragon a Brooklyn accent. She seemed into it.”

“She loved it,” you agreed, smiling at the memory of their earlier antics.

“You’re good with her, Peter. You’re her hero.”

“Yeah, well, she’s pretty awesome,” he shifted slightly, turning to look down at you, his silver hair tousled against the pillow.

“She’s got you to thank for that.”

You met his gaze, fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Pretty sure she gets most of that from you. The attitude, the energy. The ‘never staying still for more than a second’ thing.”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Gotta keep things interesting, right?”

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your lips brushing against his collarbone as you spoke. “Interesting is one way to put it.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence between you, and Peter’s arm wrapped more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, just the warmth of his skin against yours. He broke the silence with a quieter, more thoughtful tone. “You ever think about how we got here?”

“Where? In bed?”

“No, seriously,” Peter said, fingers brushing through your hair absentmindedly. “Like, the whole thing. You, me, Luna. I used to think I’d never have something like this. Y’know, slow life, family stuff. Thought I’d always be the guy on the outside, just speedin’ through life.”

You shifted slightly to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “What changed?”

He shrugged, his smile softening. “You. You changed everything. Made me realise I didn’t have to run away from it all the time. That maybe I could actually slow down long enough to be a part of something.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him softly, the gesture full of the affection you felt for him. He kissed you back with the same tenderness, his hand cupping your face gently as he deepened it, the kiss slow and sweet like molasses. When you finally pulled back, Peter’s thumb brushed across your cheek, eyes locked on yours in that concentrated, yet familiar way. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m lucky to have you. You and Luna. You guys are my world.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through you at the sincerity. “We’re lucky to have you too, Peter. Even if you’re still kind of a goof.”

He grinned, silver hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head. “Gotta keep you guys on your toes somehow.”

You laughed softly, settling back against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a peaceful quiet. His arms wrapped around you protectively, his thumb continuing to brush absentmindedly against your skin. For a while, neither of you spoke, just content to be together. But as you felt your eyes growing heavier, Peter’s voice broke the silence one last time, soft and almost sleepy. “Hey, babe,” he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for making me slow down.”

You smiled against his chest, “Thanks for sticking around.”

He chuckled, his grip tightening around you. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[rosenclaws]

Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

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a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting. 

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.” 

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag.  You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos. 

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench. 

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be. 

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need. 

[dirtyvulture]

Hey since New Years is close can you do one instead of partying with others Natasha and GP!Reader are fucking on the floor and Nat is edging R until the clock hits midnight and she finally allows R release? Only if you want to obviously

Just wrote something short for you all ❤️

While the rest of Avengers celebrating the coming new year with drinks and food, watching the ball drop in Time's Square from the top floor of the Avengers Tower, you and Natasha have excused yourselves from their party activities for a private one of your own.

"Oh fuck, Nat, I'm so close," you whimper, arching your hips up to push more of your length through Natasha's tightly-closed fist.

"It's not time yet," Natasha says, her eyes flitting to the alarm clock on your nightstand.

"I don't know if I'm gonna last," you reply, pumping your hips up and down. Your hands are underneath your butt, pinned to the floor in an effort to stop yourself from grabbing onto Natasha the longer she denies you release. You promised yourself you would never make that mistake again--Natasha had put a cock ring on you for two weeks and not allowed you to cum. And when she finally did, you came so hard you nearly passed out.

"You don't get to cum until I say you do," Natasha reminds you, removing her fist and you whine pathetically at the loss of contact.

"Okay, okay," you resign.

Natasha grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirts a big glob onto her hand. Your body tenses in anticipation as she reaches for your cock once more, sliding it effortlessly through her slicked-up hand. You moan and squirm at the stimulation, your cock throbbing stiffly and the tip darkening in color.

"Nat, please," you whimper again, not sure if you can hold back until midnight.

"Hold it," she demands, her focus turning to the clock.

"TEN! NINE!" you hear everyone outside your bedroom chanting along with the countdown. Natasha's hand moves faster on your cock, squeezing every time she gets to your tip.

"EIGHT! SEVEN!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you pant, closing your eyes as you will yourself to stay in control.

"Almost there," Natasha says, her hand slowing down. A little dribble of pre-cum leaks out of your cock. She can't wait to have your throbbing length inside of her when she finally lets you release.

"THREE! TWO!"

Natasha suddenly stops stroking you and swings one leg over your waist. She's so wet that she sinks onto your cock effortlessly, taking you all the way to the hilt just as the fireworks outside explode and your co-workers scream and cheer in celebration of the new year.

Your hips buck as you empty your load in hard pulses that have your entire body shaking. Your back arches off the floor and you free your hands to grab onto Natasha's waist, holding to keep her balanced as you pump into her. Her velvet walls milk your cock for every drop of cum you have to offer, and when you're finally down, you sink back onto the floor, sweaty and spent.

"Happy New Year, baby," Natasha leans over to whisper in your ear.

"Happy New Year, Nat."

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

AN: I hope everyone has a happy new year like these two. :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more. 🥰

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: What started as a quest to prove Eddie's 'manhood' ended with a gesture that had you hurtling towards your future--ready or not. (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, lots of bees, mention of parental illness, brief mention of sex work, finally some actual physical contact between them, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter five: float like a butterfly

For the first time since you’d started working nights, you didn’t dread the sound of your alarm ringing. You’d always appreciated its stillness, with only city noises and the occasional guest puncturing the perfect silence. There were some nights where you didn’t speak a word for the full eight hours of your shift; you just read or wrote or daydreamed until the clock struck six.

Except for last night, of course, when you’d passed the time by talking with Eddie and minimally contributed to wallpaper removal. Your mind flickered back to the way he’d placed his hand on yours. The sensation of his palm, calloused but warm, lingering a beat longer than necessary. 

The whole moment could have been deemed unnecessary, in theory. Surely he could have modeled the action on his own and then handed you the tool so you could imitate him. Was it truly to show you how to scrape off glue, or did he have a more gratuitous intention?

Shaking your head, you eschewed the idea almost as quickly as you’d considered it. He was just being polite, a rarity among most of your male guests. Maybe that's why you were so hyper-focused on it; years of clipped conversations and crude comments had you mistaking kindness for something more flirtatious.

Speak of the Devil…

Eddie stood in the lobby, his guitar case slung across his back. He kept one elbow perched on the desk as he spoke to your mom. Whatever he said was making her laugh, a genuine one that brought a light to her eyes. She noticed you first, and when she waved you over, Eddie turned around to see what caught her attention. His smile shifted from open-mouth to close-lipped, more thoughtful and discreet without losing any of its charm.

Slinging your bag off of your shoulder next to the desk, you feigned a casual demeanor and asked, “What did I miss? Serenading my mom?” You nodded towards the guitar case, biting back a smile.

Eddie shook his head, his curls falling in his face. “Tried to make a couple bucks down at the subway station.” He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Not enough for a ticket home, but it’s a start.”

Home. Obviously he was going home. New York had nothing for him, had chewed him up and spit him out like he left a bitter taste in its mouth. He had no reason to stay.

Oblivious to your disappointment, Mom laughed again. “Mr. Munson–”

“Eddie. Mr. Munson is my uncle.”

“Eddie,” Mom quickly amended, “was just telling me about the time he ripped his pants while he was on stage.” 

Rosy red seeped into Eddie’s cheeks, evidently not expecting your mom to share that information with you. “And that was the last time I wore leather pants,” he said. “Lesson learned.”

Deeming this conclusion insufficient, you inquired further. “How exactly does one rip leather pants?” You stifled a giggle, just imagining him feeling a sudden breeze mid-concert.

“Well, ya see,” he started, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica t-shirt and smirking, “I’m what’s known as an enthusiastic performer. And as such, one might find that leather can be quite restricting.”

“So…you got really sweaty and they ripped.”

Eddie hid his face behind a curtain of curls, all but confirming your suspicions. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Heiress,” he warned with a smile, cocking his pointer finger in your direction.

Mom took that as her cue to leave, quickly clasping your hand and excusing herself. Thick tension set in without her there as a buffer. Her presence prevented any conversation from dipping too deep into flirtation; now, there was nothing stopping it. 

Except, of course, the looming fact that he was a guest. And like all guests, he was a temporary fixture in your life. 

“The new wallpaper didn’t come in yet,” you blurted out. Dad had insisted on ordering it from a family friend, saving money but forgoing the promises of timely delivery afforded by bigger suppliers. 

Eddie shrugged, unbothered by the information. “I know.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the pack in offering, but you shook your head. Without missing a beat, he put his own cigarette back and returned the box to his pocket. “Your mom was saying how excited she is for you to finish your classes and take over the motel.”

Panic flooded your lungs and constricted your breathing at the potential crisis he might have inadvertently caused. Did Mom seem upset? Her usual signs were noticeably absent: narrowed eyes, set jaw, lips painfully taut in a silent roar: we’ll discuss this later. 

There was none of that. She was laughing. Happy. Not a hint of disappointment. Yet anxiety still hooked its claws into your skin, a stinging reminder of the anvil dangling over your head. 

“You didn’t say—”

“Not a word.” Eddie waved away the thought. “Just smiled and nodded.”

Your chest went concave with relief, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug. His arms held a surprising strength, as evidenced by his wallpaper removal abilities, and you wondered how they would feel wrapped around your waist. Did he hug tightly, not letting go until all of the air had been squeezed from your lungs? Or did he prefer a softer, lazier embrace, one with a hand free to stroke up and down your back?

Why did it matter?

“Is there a reason you haven’t told them?” he asked. The sound of his voice invaded your senses, pulling you back to reality in an instant. “I mean, they seem nice enough.”

Stooping down to grab your notebook, you nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the problem, I guess.” Your teeth scraped along your tongue as you considered your words. “If they were shitty, I wouldn’t feel so bad about letting them down.”

“Letting them down?”

You nodded, feeling that familiar pit that formed in your stomach whenever this subject arose. “Yeah. I can’t be a social worker and run the motel. And if I don’t stick around, they’ll have to close this place for good.”

Eddie breathes out with a low whistle. “Pretty high stakes.”

“You can say that again.” Resting your elbows on the desk, you buried your head in your hands. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a rockstar?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled. 

He took so long to respond that you looked up, wondering if he’d up and left while you weren’t watching. 

“My dad’s, um, not in the picture, and my mom died when I was a kid,” he finally said, using his left thumbnail to pick at the right. 

“I’m sorry.” And you were: for his loss and for prying into his history. Mortification bloomed and prickled sweat under your arms, and you clenched them to your sides in a feeble attempt to hide any forming stains.

“S’okay. I mean, you didn’t know, so…” his shoulders moved up and down, his mouth drawn into a forgiving half-smile, “now you know.”

Now you know. A little slice of him, presented to you like one of the cakes the local bakery kept locked behind a pane of refrigerated glass. The ones you admired as a kid, reveling in their perfectly smooth icing and intricately piped pastel flowers. They’d always seemed too delicate to touch, so you’d skipped over them in favor of sprinkle-laden cookies.

Logically, you know that the cakes were made for consumption. All you needed to do was ask for a taste. But you could never bring yourself to ruin their beauty. Not then, and not now.

And so, as always, you stepped away and chose the easier path instead.   

“Did you really rip your pants on stage?”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the sudden subject change, but he recovered quickly. “Sure did. Split right down the seam.” He puffed out a short laugh through his nose. “Poor Gareth got an eyeful that night.”

“Are you sure that isn’t the real reason you left the band?” Picking up the nearest pen, you poked the capped end into his forearm. 

He play-winced, rubbing the spot the cap touched, and shook his head. “Nah, this was my high school band. Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Oh, yeah. We were terrifying.” Eddie widened his eyes in mock-horror. “The backbone of Indiana’s satanic panic, actually.”

You raised your brows. “Impressive.”

“Mhm. We only broke up because our bassist went to college out of state. Princeton.” He lowered his voice at the name as though relaying confidential information. 

“Not the Ivy Leagues!” You pressed your hand to your heart, clutching metaphorical pearls. 

Eddie grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’ve heard Princeton is known for their demonic studies program, so that tracks.”

This is nice. This is easy. No mention of schoolwork, or the motel, or parents—or lack thereof. You could do this all night. 

A throat clearing followed by a hacking cough took you both by surprise. Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you found Phyllis standing in the lobby doorway. 

“There’s a wasp nest outside my window,” she said, tugging up one drooping shirt sleeve. The odor of stale cigarettes grew stronger as she walked closer to you and Eddie; even if she quit smoking today, the pungency would always cling to her. 

Uncapping your pen, you reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the stack of Post-Its. “I’ll make a note to get some insecticide spray tomorrow,” you promised, poorly curbing your exasperation. 

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. 

The older woman didn’t put up any argument, but Eddie was obviously displeased. “Like hell you will.” He glanced around, pent-up energy overflowing as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You got a baseball bat around here?”

Your “Uh, no,” overlapped with Phyllis’s nonchalant, “Yeah, of course,” and she left to fetch it.

A sigh escaped you, hinting at your mounting irritation. “Eddie, absolutely not,” you insisted. “Just wait till I get the spray and you can do it then.”

He clicked his tongue with a note of condescension that you didn’t particularly appreciate. “Don’t worry about it, Heiress. I’m from the Midwest; our wasps are like your rats. This’ll be nothing.” When you remained unconvinced, he adopted a teasing grin. “I don’t tell you how to do your nerd stuff, do I? So leave me to my man stuff in peace.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva. “Your man stuff?”

“Yes. Very strong and burly.” He flexed a bicep for emphasis and you threw your hands up in defeat, trying to ignore the soft fluttering in your stomach at the vein bulging through his skin.

Phyllis returned with the bat, the wooden neck clenched between arthritic fingers. “It’s right around the side,” she told Eddie. “Just look for the giant nest. And don’t forget to give this back when you’re done; I’m working tonight.” She thrust the bat into Eddie’s hand and padded back to her room, slippers thwacking against the linoleum. 

Eddie twirled the bat, threading it through his fingers and catching it smoothly. He smiled, unable to camouflage his pride. “See? I got this.” His grasp was determined without a hint of tenderness, a stark contrast to the way he’d held your hand the night prior. Tucking it underneath a denim-clad arm, he took a deep breath and pushed through the front door like he was preparing for battle.

You watched him leave, shaking your head. Evidently, he had a point to prove, but you doubted the chances of his success. Part of you wished you could leave the desk to watch him in action. Another part was relieved that you had the excuse to avoid witnessing this disaster as it unfolded.

As you predicted, not even half a minute had passed before you heard Eddie yelping, his footsteps thudding towards the motel’s entrance. He flung the door open with enough force that it smacked against the wall, scrambling to slam it shut behind him. His chest heaved under his jacket as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He swatted around his head at some lingering wasps. “Son of a bitch!”  

Sucking your tongue to your front teeth, you bit back an I-told-you-so. “How’s your ‘manhood’ or whatever?” 

Maybe that wasn’t much better than outright gloating, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Eddie made a closed fist with only his middle finger sticking up, and he winced almost immediately. “I think one of those little fuckers got me.” He cradled one hand in the other as you walked towards him for a closer inspection. 

Sure enough, a stinger was poking out from the side of his forefinger.

Phyllis came shuffling back from her room, pink lipsticked mouth pursed in concern. “Jesus, kid. Were you trying to piss them off?” The loose skin under her neck wobbled when she chortled. “You swung at that nest like you were Babe Ruth!”

Through a tense smile, you asked her to get a soapy washcloth so you could clean out the wound before it could spark an allergic reaction. “Unless, of course, that interferes with your man stuff,” you said to Eddie, all-too happy to throw his words back in his face.

“Fuck off.” A traitorous chuckle broke through his stoic exterior despite his very real pain. His eyes followed your movements as you grabbed the first aid kit.

You took his warm palm in yours, gently turning it to assess the afflicted finger. The stinger was lodged under his skin, already turning the surrounding area an angry red. 

“Oof, he really stung you good, huh?” Your tone was all sympathy; you figured he’d gotten enough jabs from the wasps. 

Eddie gritted his teeth as you gingerly scraped at the stinger with the edge of your notebook, taking care not to squeeze out any of the venom. You tightened your grip to keep his hand in place, feeling the soft but steady thrum of his heartbeat between his wrist and his thumb’s tendon. It had a melody of its own. 

Slowly, meticulously, you eased the stinger out from where it was wedged.

“Sorry,” you said softly, noting the way his eyes clamped shut as you drew out the stinger and brushed it onto the desk. 

“S’okay.” He managed a small smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The night was still for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft but eager. 

“Tell me more about Izzy.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a penchant for rapid subject changes. 

At once, your head was filled with memories of her: the pigtails held in place with thick rubber bands, the popsicle juice-stained pink t-shirt, the giggles that melted away your stress from a succession of ungrateful customers. He said something else, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts for the words to register. 

“Hmm?”

“The little girl you helped.” Eddie cocked a quizzical brow, suddenly worried that he’d remembered incorrectly. “That was her name, right?”

You nodded. “She was only there that one day. I didn’t see her again.”

Her mother was probably too embarrassed to stay any longer and found another motel. If you could go back in time, you would have reassured her, maybe even offered to watch after Izzy while she worked. You might have informed her of programs where she could find a job that didn’t put her or Izzy in harm’s way. 

Eddie continued talking, for some reason persistent in his quest for answers. “But you said she talked to you while she was drawing. About her favorite stuff?”

Phyllis returned with cloth before you could answer him, and she rested it on the desk with a sigh. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, pointing at Eddie, “but my bat better be in my room before I get back, Yogi Berra.”

He nodded, absently massaging the nape of his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” One burgundy-painted fingertip pointed at Eddie, then at you. “I like this kid.”

How do you even respond to that? An honest, ‘me, too’? An overly sarcastic, ‘he’s alright’? 

You opted for a small, unassuming smile and the reminder to be safe, which was absurd when you really thought about it. Phyllis had been doing this, as she put it, ��since my tits were above my belly button,” yet you were telling her about safety. 

Bringing your attention back to the sting, you clutched the sopping wet washcloth. Phyllis apparently hadn’t wrung it out; water dripped down the side of your fingers and splashed onto the floor in an uneven plop-plop-plop. 

With an abundance of care, you swiped the cloth over the sting site. It was already starting to swell, the skin raised and angry. 

Eddie reflexively pulled away, the tension evident from the way his front teeth formed grooves in his lower lip. 

“Fuck, that hurts.” His free fist pounded into the desktop with so much force that, for a split second, you worried that he might leave a dent. 

“I know, but we have to clean it out,” you said. 

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; you weren't sure you even wanted to know what he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He winced as the frayed fibers grazed him again. “So…Izzy?”

“There isn’t much to say,” you answer honestly. “I mean, she just told me she loved McDonalds french fries and Muppet Babies. Especially baby Fozzie Bear.”

“Anything else?”

You thought back for a moment. “Her favorite animal was dogs, but only the little ones. She said the big ones scared her because they barked too loud. Oh, and her favorite color was light purple.”

The memory is bittersweet, bathing you in both comfort and a dull ache. It was almost six years ago but the little girl had made herself at home in your mind. You thought about her on a daily basis, wondering if she and her mom were still bouncing from motel to motel, or if they’d found a permanent place to settle. Every ounce of optimism you possessed worked to help you believe that they were safe and that she didn’t remember when safety wasn’t guaranteed.

“I knew it.”

You looked up from applying calamine lotion, dabbing the pink-stained cotton ball over any excess dripping off of his finger. “Knew what?” 

“I knew you’d remember everything she told you.” His thumb relaxed and fluttered down until it rested on yours, the pad of his finger on your knuckle.

You reached for a Band-Aid before realizing that opening it required two hands. With more hesitation that you anticipated, you let go of him. “And what makes you say that?” You wrapped the bandage around his finger, careful not to press too tightly around the sting. “There. Good as new.”

Eddie smiled his appreciation. “I, um, had a similar experience when I was a kid.” He swallowed, picking at the Band-Aid until the adhesive side began to bunch up. When he allowed himself to glance at you, he saw you looking back at him, silently encouraging him to tell his story. 

“My mom got sick when I was in kindergarten. The treatment made her tired and nauseous, like, all the time; when she wasn’t sleeping, she was throwing up.” His eyes clouded over and his voice cracked slightly; he cleared his throat and continued. “I was at school one day, and the social worker asked me if I had anyone at home who washed my clothes for me. And when I told her no, she asked me to bring any clothes I needed cleaned with me the next day. So I did, and after school let out, she took me to the Laundromat.” 

If you told him that he didn’t have to keep talking, he'd stop. He’d wipe away any residual tears and excuse himself, and you’d once again spend your shift alone. And so you didn’t say anything, just stood there as his gears turned in recollection.

“She had this game: she’d hold up a piece of clothing and ask if it goes in the ‘lights’ or ‘darks’ pile, and she would get faster and faster until I was laughing too hard to answer.” Eddie exhaled a short laugh and swiped his tongue over his top teeth. “The whole time, I’m thinking that it’s all fun, that this is a normal thing that every kid did. I didn’t realize until years later that it was because my clothes smelled, y’know?” 

Sheepishness colored Eddie’s face in pink splotches as he shifted from man to boy and then back again. 

“Anyway, your story about Izzy kinda reminded me of that. And she might not remember your name or even what you talked about, but she’ll remember someone being there for her. Someone who didn’t act like she was a bother or a charity case. Just a kid who wanted to play.”

His words left you without any of your own. There was so much to digest; chiefly, your newfound glimpse into Eddie’s past. And though you’d only ever known him as an adult, you were still picturing him as a child. He sat atop a counter where others folded their clothes, his brown eyes–looking even bigger than they did presently, given his small stature–gazing up at the woman in wonderment as he giddily sorted his laundry. 

And then, of course, there was the delicately embedded compliment. The reassurance that you had been a positive force in Izzy’s life, even through one brief encounter. 

It was the only part that you could elaborate on without intruding on his privacy. He’d shared something so personal, and while you were desperate to learn more about him, you didn’t want to barge past the boundaries he had so carefully constructed.  

“Yeah, I…just wanted her to feel safe, I guess.” You’d devised a plan while you drew flowers and Care Bears in case no one showed up to find her. Everything had to be done so that she remained in the dark about the situation’s severity; you’d have Mom or Dad check the room, only calling the authorities if Izzy’s mom was unresponsive—or worse. 

In the end, there was no need for you to worry. Her mother was alert and Izzy herself was none the wiser that anything was wrong. You hadn’t even told your parents about the situation despite their potential involvement. Eddie, of all people, was the only other person who knew. 

He nodded and reached over, giving your hand a subtle, tender squeeze. 

“You did.”

Reassurance drifted through the air and clung to you like the sharp scent of tobacco on his jacket. Receiving compliments wasn’t your strongest suit, so you pivoted topics to avoid stretching the ensuing awkward silence any further. 

“The calamine lotion should help with the itching, but you can take some Benadryl if it’s still bad.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, you searched for the medication but only managed to scrounge up a bottle of expired ibuprofen. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down. They’ll have some there.” A little mom and pop shop that sold candy and cheap wine in addition to different over-the-counter medicines, it had been a community staple since before you were born.

The corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkled, lips turning upwards in amusement. “An heiress, a social worker, and a nurse? What can’t you do?”

That was a loaded question, and you were relieved that it was rhetorical so you wouldn’t have to list all of your shortcomings. You settled for flipping him off with an accompanying smile of your own.

“I should probably get that bat before she gets back,” he said, glancing towards the older woman’s room. He lowered his voice and continued. “She kinda scares me.”

“Oh, I definitely would not get on her bad side,” you agreed. “Phyllis’s wrath will make that wasp sting feel like a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” His laugh was music that stirred up a desire to dance, to be carried by the melody like a strong gust of wind, and then he was out the door.

Immediately, you were inclined to find something new to talk about when he walked back in. You’d had two days of companionship and had been spoiled by it; the thought of another night in solitude suddenly seemed lonely.

You couldn’t ask about his parents or the social worker who’d taken him to the Laundromat; that was too personal, too soon. Same with his old band. But music–his favorite songs, musicians, albums–that might be safe enough to explore.

The door opened and brought with it a cool evening breeze. Eddie returned much more confidently than he had the last time, Phyllis’s bat slung over his shoulder. 

“Apparently, I actually managed to knock the nest down,” he reported, sounding as surprised as you felt. 

He stifled a yawn, denim creasing at the elbow when he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. It was then that you noticed the way sleep tugged at his eyelids, dashing any remaining hope of having a conversational partner this evening. Asking him to stay awake for you was just selfish. 

“I’ll see you around, Heiress. Let me know if there’s any more man stuff you need from me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice in quick succession and started towards his room. 

“Night, Eddie.”

Opportunity slipped through your fingers as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps eventually too muted to hear. You shoved your disappointment beneath the surface. Eddie wasn’t your friend; he was a guest who happened to be friendly. Asking him to stick around and chat would be unprofessional. 

If he happened to stop by the desk while you worked, you could make small talk. Otherwise, it would be business as usual. 

Minutes were hours and hours were days. Another trucker needed a room for the night, and you checked him in around four o’clock. 

You thought about the certainty in Eddie’s assurance that Izzy had felt safe with you. He didn’t know her; he barely knew you, and he wasn’t even there when it all happened. Yet his approval illuminated from the inside out and you replay it over and over. 

You did. You did. You did. 

Izzy was safe with you and she knew it. If you swallowed your fears and forged your own path, you could help other kids just like her. But it would come at a steep cost unless your parents could somehow miraculously afford to hire a new employee.

Your stomach turns just imagining the motel’s windows shuttered, a For Sale sign propped up in the door, ready to be snapped up by a major hotel chain for a mediocre sum that would barely pay off the overdue bills. It haunted you.

How long could you do this? How long could you push off your own dreams in favor of your parents’? At what point did you cross that fine line between selflessness and martyrdom?

Exhaustion crushed your body, strong enough to overpower the churning anxiety. Still, your sleep was fitful, and you woke up before your alarm feeling wholly unrested. Achiness radiated through your bones as you dragged yourself out of bed.

You knew what you had to do.

Dad noticed your earlier departure, so used to you leaving at 1:45 every day like clockwork. His brows pinched with perplexity as he determined whether he’d forgotten about a change in your schedule.

“Just running an errand before class.”

His confusion faded, replaced with a grin. “Thought I was losing my mind.” The way he stood under the lighting accentuated the gray flecks in his hair and mustache and solidified that he was, in fact, aging. His eventual retirement loomed closer, more of a when than an if with each passing day.

“Can’t lose what you never had,” you teased weakly. Dad met your joke with a wink; if he had picked up on the falter in your voice, he was gracious enough to ignore it.

You took a slight deviation from your usual route, walking past the bus stop and turning the corner until you reached the mailbox. It beckoned you, taunted you, sneered at your cowardice. The stamped envelope mocked you tenfold; innocuous on the surface but held the weight of betrayal.

It contained your admissions letter to NYU with the “accept” box marked and a deposit check that nearly drained your savings, ready to go.

The mailbox hinge creaked open so loudly that it seemed to echo. All you had to do was drop the envelope down the chute and pray that you made the right choice.

Regret surged through your veins the moment the envelope left your fingertips. You acted on instinct, shoving your hand back down the box to reclaim your letter, but you knew it was a fruitless effort before you’d even failed. It was already lost in a sea of bills and birthday cards. 

“Shit!” Yanking your arm out before someone accused you of mail theft, you tilted your head back in an attempt to stop the impending tears.

With one stupid decision, you’d heaved a shovel into the dirt and begun digging a grave for the family business.

What the hell were you thinking? 

As though it had a mind of its own, your foot swung out and smacked against the tin drum with all of your might. It took a beat for the pain to hit, the throbbing in your toes matching the reverberating metal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You didn’t care who saw, who heard. Anger and self-loathing bubbled over like boiling water and scalded you in shame. Everything was so far out of your control, and you couldn’t rein it in. The world kept spinning fast, faster, too fast—

“Kicking it won’t make the mailman show up, y’know. ‘S not like rubbing a genie’s lamp.” 

Eddie stood on the other side of the mailbox. A plastic bag dangled from his hand, the box of drugstore brand antihistamine peeking through its translucence. His playfulness morphed into concern when he noted your dewy lashes. “Heiress? You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You swiped at your cheeks and sniffed back the mucus that collected in your nostrils. You probably should have been embarrassed that he’d caught you in such a state of distress; maybe you would be once the dust settled. 

He wrinkled his nose dubiously. You couldn’t blame him; why would he be convinced when you were assaulting mailboxes and swearing at the air?

“Seriously. Just having a bad day.” And it was going to get even worse if you missed your bus—again. “Thanks for asking, though.” You managed a grateful smile to prove your sincerity.

Grabbing your backpack from its spot on the ground, you zipped it back up and hoisted it over your shoulder before starting back towards the stop. 

“Hey, wait a sec.” Eddie called out to you, shuffling over until he was by your side. “You, uh, your makeup…” He trailed off bashfully, raising his thumb but stopping before it touched your skin. “May I?”

You nodded, breath hitching as the pad of his finger grazed just below your eye. He gently rubbed, tongue poking between his lips while he focused on removing the smudge without hurting you. 

He was close, almost too close for comfort. There was a small cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving, and you forced yourself to stare at that instead of his wide eyes. 

“There…we…go.” He held up a mascara-stained thumb as evidence. Without thinking, you pressed your own thumb to it. The knuckles of your remaining four fingers slotted between his until you pulled away. 

Eddie laughed, apparently amused by the odd gesture. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” He wiped the residue on his shirt, not caring if it left a mark. “Don’t miss the bus; wouldn’t want you to be late for your nerd stuff again.”

“Mhm.”

You harnessed all of your strength to unglue your feet from the sidewalk. Your body operated on autopilot to its destination while your mind only thought of the heat that leapt from his thumb to yours, or maybe yours to his. 

It was cyclical, you surmised as the bus approached, with no clear beginning or end.

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[disneyprincemuke]

the great war * mv1

a look into the fight that led to the painstaking breakup

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: a lot of cursing, toxic max, toxic you, mentions of cheating

notes: this is part of midnights!! i've had this fight mapped out in my head for so long that i KNEW i had to include it... take a shot every single time i write “three” or use “what” in dialogue (spoiler alert: you’ll get wasted!!!)

fun fact: i wrote the first half of that night i came home from the club

(series masterlist)

you twirl a piece of your hair on your finger, eyes stuck to the screen hanging above you. the headphones sit on your ears comfortably as you bite down on your lip.

in front of you is max’s car being dragged back into the garage by his engineers.

knocked out in p2 for the first time this season, on a track he’s never had much luck with in his career — you can kind of understand why he’d be annoyed. especially when their partner team has made it further than him.

normally, it would have been okay. but this is max’s season as he claims it.

you nod to yourself, and gently take off the headphones. you turn towards the door that leads to the paddocks. there are a few interview panels that max has to go through with the unexpected result.

with all that transpired, max wouldn’t be in the best mood. you’re just trying to make sure that it doesn’t get to his head and doesn’t project it to your conversations later.

your presence in the garage is no longer necessary since max would not bother passing by.

you’re stopped by lily in the paddocks, making some small talk about the restaurant her and alex tried when they arrived a few days ago. you share a laugh about not really knowing how to approach singaporean dishes.

but you agree to try out some local food for breakfast with max if you have the time. immediately, you briskly walk back to max’s driver’s room to make him some coffee.

the jetlag you both get arriving in singapore is never easy, no matter how many times you come back. the visit is always too short to make adjusting your body clock easy.

surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to make it back.

you can’t decipher what made the process so quick: did he kimi raikkonen his way through it, or have the journalists finally learned their lesson when max has had a bad time on the track?

the frustration on max is obvious. he doesn’t greet you when he comes in, just locks the door behind him and makes a sharp turn for the table to his left.

you were seated on the couch to the right.

you wait to see if max would acknowledge your presence, or at least give some attention to the coffee in the mug on the table. but seconds pass as max organises his items, shoving articles of clothing and fan gifts into his bag without a word.

without even turning to drink the coffee that slowly cools from its hot temperatures.

“i made you coffee,” you mutter, finally standing from your comfortable spot on the couch. you walk towards him and stop in the centre of the room when he sharply turns his head to the mug. “just how you like it.”

“oh, thank you.” he can barely make out a firm sentence, his tone faltering and hands shaking as he reaches out for the mug. “i hadn’t noticed, darling. i’m sorry.”

you nod, whispering a reassuring phrase. something about you understand how he feels. “i’m sorry about qualifying.”

instead of a verbal response, like you’d prefer, he simply shrugs. he turns around to finally face you, hands carefully gripping the hot mug as he blows into it.

you smile slightly and shove your hands into your back pockets. “you know, if you’ve got nothing past 11, i was thinking we go to this place lily told me about. she went with alex a few days ago; i heard the local dishes they serve is really good.”

he shakes his head. “i’m really tired. not tonight, darling, i’m sorry.”

for the first time since he left his race car that night, he finally lifts his blue eyes from his blank stare at the ground to look at you. “maybe we can go on monday before we fly off to japan?”

you jaw hangs low, nodding slowly as you retract back to the couch behind you.

max notes this and finally pushes himself off the table he’s leaning on. “let’s order some food to the hotel after this? they’ve got good options for delivery.”

“sure,” you nod slowly.

you move your gaze away from him, now mimicking the blank stare he had on the ground.

you haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately, even having fought right before flying to singapore. it was about something you can’t even remember now; for all you know, it could’ve been something about the toilet seat being left up.

which, now that you think of it, is what you fought about.

“(y/n).” the mention of your name makes you lift your head up, tilting it to the side to urge him to continue. “you made my coffee with two sugars?”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow very slightly. max has always been particular with the way he drinks his coffee. so you’re very sure that you mixed three sugars in instead of two, a mistake you made earlier in your relationship. “of course, i made it with three. that’s how you like your coffee.”

you watch him take another sip, tongue running over his lips as he deciphers the drink in his mouth. he doesn’t say anything else, but he does put the mug down on the table.

you narrow your eyes into a glare. how different can black coffee be in singapore that the three sugars you put inside make such a difference?

a difference big enough for him to mistake it for two sugars?

you sink into the couch, following max’s every move in the small room. seriously, how different can the coffee be here? and why is it such a big deal that it tastes a little odd?

why couldn’t he have just secretly put in another packet of sugar when you weren’t looking like he used to? does he now enjoy the luxury of pointing out your mistakes because of how long you’ve been together?

“what,” max halts halfway across the room and turns to you, “the fuck are you staring at?”

“i don’t know, the ghost in the corner of the room,” your words drip with sarcasm, noticing the way this changes max’s expression. “obviously you.”

“what is it now?” he sighs impatiently, hands resting on his hips as he leans his weight on one leg.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you’re giving me that stupid glare again. when you’re annoyed, you glare at me like that,” he points at you knowingly, “so please. enlighten me as to how i’ve managed that tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow. your heart starts to pound in your chest as you tilt your head in disbelief. “why are you talking like i don’t have a reason to be annoyed at you right now?”

he hums as his eyebrow raises. “you're the one who made my coffee wrong.”

“i made it how you like it.”

“this is not three sugars, (y/n).”

“but it is. i made it, max.”

“i’m sure you did. but this doesn’t taste like three.”

“okay. whatever. i made it with three, though.”

“you know what? fuck you. this isn’t three sugars — i don’t know why you keep trying to defend yourself.”

“and why’d you have to point it out? will it kill you to literally just reach a little to your right in the drawers to add sugar in?” you push yourself off the couch now, hands on your hips as you stare at him. “it’s really not that serious, max.”

he scoffs. “i’ve had a long day, (y/n). seriously, all you had to make was one cup of coffee. it shouldn’t be that hard.”

your eyes widen at his words. you take a daunting step forward and fold your arms over your chest. “i didn’t have to make you that cup of coffee — it was out of courtesy. the least you could have done was say thank you.”

his stare softens, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. as if realisation had dawned on him, “thank you.” he pauses to sigh and the cold demeanour makes its comeback. “for nothing because you didn’t even make it right.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, max? you’re so fucking dense, you can’t even say thank you anymore?”

“and what for? you’ve become unattentive, (y/n)! you’ve gotten lazy with our relationship!”

“lazy would have been just staying home instead of flying out here with you when i have a big presentation this week! i made the effort to come out here and support you.”

“i told you that you didn’t have to come if it’s too much! you insisted!”

“because i’m your girlfriend! i want to be there for you and make time. but if you don’t appreciate that, then fine. i won’t do it again.”

“that’s not even what i fucking said. come on.”

“but it is what you said. if having me around is more trouble than it’s worth, this will be the last race i’ll be at.”

“this isn’t even about you making time to be here? it’s about how you made my coffee wrong!”

“make your own coffee, then! or maybe you’d prefer if kelly did it for you?”

max closes his mouth as he finds the reply at the tip of his tongue sucked out. he looks at you in disbelief, hands now on his hips as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “what?” he shouts.

it’s been nothing less of a toxic cycle. you fight, you say things you don’t mean, you hurt each other, you cry, and then you make up.

but there’s a feeling you can’t shrug off in your stomach as you exchange strings of frustrated screams in his tiny driver’s room. neither of you notice the figure walking by the window before it briefly turns away when your screams come into range.

not even the fact that there is a group of your friends waiting outside at the rendezvous point in the paddocks, awaiting your arrival to invite you both for dinner.

they’ve just started making their way out after a distraught liam simply shrugs when they ask about your attendance at the gathering. the young driver simply shrugs and tells them that he doubts both of you will make it out tonight.

then they all just turn and make their way out to explore the city.

now, you're across the massage table in max's driver's room. the mention of kelly and your issue with the woman's association with your boyfriend sparked up a bigger fight.

you're no longer fighting about the coffee: now it's about who can hit who the hardest and come out triumphant from this fight.

it's now you versus max.

you lean forward propped up by your palms flat on the table as he stands at the other side waiting impatiently.

"what about that time you went to that party when i was away for a race? i told you not to go, (y/n)! you disappeared on me for hours!" max spits at you, hands thrown in the air as he gets into the fight.

"yeah, cause god forbid i have a life while you're out doing your own thing," you laugh dryly with an eye roll. "can't deal with the fact that my world doesn't revolve around you anymore, max?"

"totally not the point of my argument. you disappeared on me while you were out drunk - think of what could've happened to you. i was so worried."

"worried for my well-being or worried that i was out cheating on you?"

the room falls to silence, max dropping his hands to his side. you purse your lips together as you stare at him, your arms now folded over your chest. "what's wrong, max? hit too close to home?"

"and so what if i thought you were out cheating? it's valid if my girlfriend disappears on me on a night out."

you roll your eyes and wave off his concern. "so you admit - you thought i cheated on you that night. is this why you're always like this? the looming question in your head if i was, in fact, unloyal that night?"

he sighs, shaking his head. he turns away from you as he rubs his forehead in frustration. "what is the point of us having this conversation? this is not what we're fighting about at first."

"look at me and tell me you don't trust me anymore." your voice is tired, now multitudes softer than a few seconds ago. "what is the point of us now that this is what we've come to?"

a small part of you realise that this was the feeling you couldn't shake off when this fight had started. it's the inevitable thought of breaking up that would ease everything between you. after all of this fighting, all these misunderstandings and miscommunication, there's only one way to make it all go away.

your eyes sting as tears fill your eyes. you watch as max drops himself on the couch, leaning into the armrest as he rests his hand in his hands. you trudge over to where he is, head hanging low as you feel a sob shake your chest.

you shake your head and look down, avoiding his eyes as he turns to you when you slowly bring yourself down to the couch. "i can't do this anymore, max."

he doesn't answer immediately. you hear a shakey sigh pass his lips, melting into his couch more. "i'm tired."

your breath hitches with a sob. your head starts to feel light as you cry harder. you still don't look at him. "i think we need to break up."

minutes pass without a response from max. he doesn't even move an inch, his loud breaths and your muffled sobs are the only sounds that surround you.

you don't even notice all the scrambling outside from the team, packing up from their meeting to go back to the hotel.

you lift your head and turn to max. he's angled away from you, his fingers picking at his bottom lip with his tear-filled eyes. his breathing is steady as he stares at the blank dark blue walls.

you remind yourself: no answer is an answer.

so you do what you think is a favour to both of you. you get up and grab your purse from the ground, walking towards the door. the most painful part isn't all that he said to you that night, it's the fact that he just let you walk out without another utter of a word.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora

[mayasaurusss]

Having a situationship with Shauna in the wilderness headcanons:

A/n: Guys and gays, a few things. I wrote this in like fifteen minutes, and also I've never wrote either headcanons or explicit sexual content, so consider me an amateur for this. I only did till the doomcoming episode cause I haven't finished watching the first season. Tell me if you'd like a longer version of this with a full on smut scene. I feel so embarrassed of myself.

You and Shauna don't start off as friends. You were just another girl on the team that she did not pay attention to.

When the plane crashes, all of you start to rely on each other more and more and as time passes, Shauna starts to warm up to you.

When you find the lake and take a swim, you and Shauna both decide to pounce on Van.

Later, you and her talk together on the rocky shore of the lake and discover your mutual love for literature. Shauna secretly hopes to make Jackie jealous but wouldn't dare to say that to you.

The first night at the cabin, you and her talk together well after midnight, whispering in eachothers ears and giggling. This makes Jackie roll her eyes and clinging in her sheets in annoyance.

During senace, Shauna clings close to you terrified, when Lottie starts to workship unknown gods, much to Jackie's dismay.

After the Lottie incident Taissa decides to sleep in the attic to prove it's not haunted, Shauna follows close behind her. As you too were making your way to the attic to keep them company, you hear Shauna and Taissa talk, talk of a 'baby'. You can't quite make up what they're saying but are smart enough to understand. You leave them alone and go back down stairs.

Shauna watches you when you chop the wood for the fire: all those weeks in the wilderness and the physical effort you had to endure (usually doomed to the heavier task) had made you stronger. After Jackie so graciously spilled Shauna's secret out, she doesn't do as much as work as she did before: during the afternoon she sits outside talking in the light and pure air of the forest. Sometimes she writes in her journals (so secretly, she wouldn't want you to read her most secret fantasies) reads the few books she brough with her or, most of the time, spies you chopping off the wood.

Something about how you move your body makes her shift, she thinks she looks like one of those horny ladies in old movies watching their husbands or the new mechanic work.

You feel her eyes on you, but when you watch her she's caught up in something else.

Food begins to be scarce, no one eats much but whenever you have a bit of food you instantly give it to Shauna, making her worry for your health but she accepts it anyway, she's really hungry after all.

When the team is sure to die, Jackie has another idea, to host a doomcoming.

All the girls wear their nicest clothes, adorning their heads with flower crowns. You get into one of your best dresses, leaving your arms exposes and unknowingly sparking a heat in Shauna's body.

She watches you drink the alcohol Mari made, how you talk to others and can't help but want you all for herself.

Shauna feels her eyes shifting painfully, her vision goes blurry and she branches herself on a stump. She's hungry now. She doesn't know why, she just wants something to eat. She looks at you.

At one point, everything starts to blurry together and you fell asleep. You woke up at the cabin, someone had brought you back. You're tied on a chair and your teammates are around you.

You feel everyone starting to touch you, but when Mari tires to kiss you, Shauna feels her blood boiling. She roughly shoves her friend away and sits on your lap, her mouth on yours kissing you sloppily and grinding on your thigh while everyone looked.

The others watch, their eyes fixated on the both of you, some try to get behind you and touch you from there but Shauna clings to you so tightly no one can get close to your skin.

You feel embarrassed, you feel hot and bothered but to Shauna, this is a way to make you hers, letting everyone watch her make your mouth and your body hers is her way to make you two bond and claim you as hers and only hers.

[mangoposts]

I'm horny 😜...

can u write a small short story ab anything

“What is it princess? Hm?” Matt teases, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear securely when he leans down to whisper by the side of your face from behind you. Lips ghosting so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin,

“Need you, Matt.” You croak, looking down at the floor and sucking in a breath when you feel his hands creep over your waist, wrapping around you and pulling your backside closer to his front. Slightly grinding his hips upward and leaning once more, this time placing soft, wet kisses just beneath your ear. Each sound of the kiss ringing in your ears and swimming around in your head as your eyes fall shut and you lean further into his touch. Melting into him.

“Need me, hm? Where.” You whine, not understanding where all his teasing is coming from suddenly. Grabbing his hand around your waist, you guide it toward where you needed him most. His delicate fingers landing just above your clothed heat as your head pressed against his broad chest. Sighing out when he cups you over your clothes and kisses your temple sweetly.

The room felt hotter than hell the longer he kept his hand there, unmoving. And you only felt more desperate as the seconds passed,

“I need you inside me, Matt. Please.” Your hand returns atop of his own, now dipping it beneath your layers of clothes and directly over your wetness. Moaning quietly when he complies, stroking his fingers against your clit slowly and teasingly. Sucking and licking more kisses into the flesh of your neck while you grind down against his hand.

“All you had to do was ask for it, baby.”

So sorry for how boring this is i just wrote as i went and it’s midnight 😝

[loverhymeswith]

hello🙈 i’ve been thinking about a mini story based on “exile” by taylor swift with one tommy shelby… former lovers. shelby sees her at a party with a new beau and gets jealous (“i can see you starin honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me”) it’s a back and forth dialogue type song IDK i think it would be slay

Exile

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: A familiar figure stirs up feelings you'd rather not face

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mention of drugs.

A/N: Thank you Anon! I love this song and it fits Tommy SO well. Also, I wrote this on a beach. No idea how the setting ended up being NYE. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta read and the ending ❤️

I've added my existing taglist but please note this is not part of the Let’s Be Alone Together universe.

Him

It's fast approaching midnight at The Savoy Hotel. The dawning of the new year is almost within reach. Tommy Shelby drains his glass of champagne, wishing for whiskey instead as he slowly scans the room.

Tickets for the party tonight had been akin to gold dust, a chance to rub shoulders with the upper echelons of London's elite. But Tommy would rather be anywhere else in the world. 

Preferably, Birmingham.

He'd take a bottle of homemade gin, tucked away in the quiet familiarity of Charlie's yard in a heartbeat over this stuffy champagne-fueled ballroom. But no one ever said success was easy.

Tommy had come here tonight for one reason and one reason alone. If his plans to move into the world of politics had any chance of coming to fruition, he would need to mingle with the privileged crowd. To learn their weakness. Their darkest secrets. To take advantage of the liquor loosening their lips.

He's managed to withstand maybe a handful of hours at best before growing tired of all the posturing and arrogance, the not-so-subtle self-aggrandising and the congratulatory back slaps.

Looking for a way out but willing to settle for a distraction, his gaze continues to drift along the sea of tuxedos and expensive dresses.

Unexpectedly, he falters.

These days, it takes a lot to catch Tommy Shelby off guard - between France and his more recent ventures, it would be fair to assume he had developed nerves of steel - but off guard is exactly how he feels when his attention lands on the beautiful woman standing by the bar.

He'd recognise her anywhere. Sometimes, he thinks he searches for her in his dreams. 

Tommy feels the muscles in his jaw clench before he's able to compose himself. A foolish sign of weakness that he can’t afford to display. Not here. 

But it's difficult. A test of his usually unwavering resolve. Because she's not alone. 

There's a man. Younger than Tommy; tall, dark-haired, and slim, the old-money practically oozing off him. Any closer and Tommy would be able to smell it.

Tommy grabs another glass of too-sweet champagne from a passing waiter. Something to occupy his hands, and just in time. Old-Money's arms are wrapped around the woman's body, a possessive gesture and one he recognises well.

Once upon a time, she spent her nights in Tommy’s arms.

Five whole years might have passed - evidently long enough for her tastes to change - but it feels more like five minutes since she walked out of Small Heath and out of his life, a hastily scrawled note declaring she'd had enough.

Three simple sentences. One for each year they had been together. At the time, Tommy had replayed the words over and over until they no longer held any meaning, but liquor and bloodshed had long since turned those memories to slush.

It all boiled down to his plans for the future. Her fear of the potential enemies and danger which those plans might beget.

Whoever said that love would conquer all?

Tommy doesn't taste the sparkling wine as he tips the glass back, draining it in one mouthful. 

The champagne just won't do. He needs something stronger to take the edge off, but his path to the bar is blocked.

Biding his time, Tommy watches the couple. In fact, despite the sourness growing in the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to look away.

Old-Money leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispers something that even Tommy’s lip-reading skills cannot decipher. 

What is plain to see, however, is her lack of amusement. She tenses, discomfort evident in the clench of her jaw and the tightness of her shoulders. Her laughter, when it comes, is forced, never reaching her eyes.

A lightning bolt of unfiltered rage burns through Tommy’s veins, dulling his remaining senses like Arthur’s cocaine, but he quickly tempers it down. It’s not his problem. She's not his problem. 

She's not his to defend.

Not anymore.

Her

It's almost midnight. Ever since your arrival at The Savoy, your attention has been drifting to the clock on the wall. Waiting for the bells to chime and free you from this misery.

The party had been his idea, your date for the evening clearly operating under the assumption that money makes a man more attractive. An assumption which couldn't be further removed from the truth.

Though The Savoy might be the hottest ticket in town, everything about tonight makes you miss Birmingham - Small Heath, to be precise. New Year's Eve at The Garrison. The excitement. The unpredictability. 

The Peaky Blinders.

Your stomach involuntarily flips at the intrusive thought. You've come too far now to be thinking about the Shelby brothers. All memories pertaining to your former life belong firmly in the past.

Ignoring another pompous comment from your date, you glance up from your drink, desperate for an escape. Perhaps you can slip away in time to avoid the awkward but obligatory midnight kiss.

That's when you see him. 

A ghost - a demon - from your past, seemingly conjured into existence by the power of your thoughts alone.

The very same piercing blue eyes that have long haunted your dreams now stare you down, unblinking, from across the room. His full lips are drawn into a hard line.

Thomas Shelby.

Despite your brain knowing far better, your traitorous heart still flutters.

He looks good. Too good. 

Unfairly good.

The expensive dark suit is sinfully cut to his powerful body and his once-severe haircut has been allowed to somewhat grow out. 

Clearly, he's come a long way since the days of bruised and bloody knuckles. In the presence of polite society, he looks like he belongs.

The last five years may have been kind to your former fiancé, but with a start, the realisation dawns that the same can't be said of you.

Because five years later you still haven't recovered from the incurable affliction of loving Tommy Shelby.

Despite what some might say, you hadn't walked into the relationship blind. You'd known the head of the Shelby family for long enough to accept that a life together would be full of surprises, and not all of them good. But for love, you'd given him half a dozen chances.

Honesty. 

That's all you'd ever wanted. To be treated as his equal. His partner. To not be kept in the dark about decisions which could potentially put you both in harm's way.

Yet still he'd schemed and plotted. Twisted and manipulated. Deceived. He had told you it wasn't lying. That for your own safety, he was simply withholding the truth. As if that somehow made it ok.

Inevitably, after three years together, your patience reached its limit. Making good on a promise to yourself, you'd left, starting a new life for yourself in the capital, far away from the demons of Watery Lane. 

But you'd been foolish to believe that any amount of miles could repair the damage done to your heart. Arguably, damage of your own making.

His name has followed you like an ever-present shadow. His handsome picture staring back at you from newspaper articles. Even in black and white, those beautiful eyes just added insult to injury.

And now he's here in the flesh.

Tommy's stare is unwavering, but he makes no move to come over. Still, it's only a matter of time before he seeks you out. After your cowardly way of leaving, it's easy to imagine he has some choice words for you, but you’re not ready to speak to him. Not here, where manners and decorum are all the rage.

Willing yourself to break eye contact, you notice a side door to your left. Relief washes over you. Freedom or at least a small reprieve. Anything is preferable to this form of slow torture.

Him

Tommy watches her leave - a recurring theme, it would seem - her hurried exit presumably on account of his unexpected presence here tonight. She definitely spotted him amidst the crowd and she did not look pleased.

He should let her go. She's not his problem. She's in his past.

Isn't she?

A minute passes before, not entirely of his own accord, Tommy finds himself following in her footsteps. He's always been inexplicably drawn to her. Apparently, even heartbreak isn't enough to change that.

When he finds her in the lobby, her back is turned but she whips around as he murmurs her name.

"Tommy."

The earlier surprise he saw flash across her delicate features has been replaced by a  carefully rehearsed indifference. One he recognises all too well. 

She's at pains to pretend his presence isn't affecting her. A feeling to which he can certainly relate.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she adds when he doesn't immediately respond. "I didn't think this kind of thing was your scene."

He doesn't miss the accusation in her tone. 

What she really means is why are you here?

Slowly, Tommy inclines his head, lest she notice the falter in his gaze. Impossibly, she's even more beautiful than he remembers. It's surely a cruel twist of fate that brings her here tonight. Just when things were looking up for him. Just when he thought he'd put the past to rest.

"Likewise," he agrees. 

"Business or pleasure?" She wonders aloud before scanning the lobby, keenly on the lookout for another escape route.

The words, driven by a lingering hurt, fly from his lips before he can check himself, his attention not so subtly shifting to the blonde woman entering the lobby. "There's no reason it can't be both."

Her

Of course, he followed you. It's a problem you could really do without. You're walking a thin line just by talking to him. Experience tells you there's only two ways this will play out. 

Wondering whether there's any possibility of getting away unscathed, you offer him a polite smile and gesture towards the blonde woman now loitering in the corner. "Well, I'll leave you to your… pleasure."

He studies you carefully, his sharp features set into a cool mask of apathy, but you recognise the hurt hidden behind his icy eyes. 

The hurt which you caused.

"I'd tell you the same, except I doubt your friend knows how to pleasure a woman. You looked miserable back there." 

Despite the sentiment, there's no trace of concern in his cruel words.

"My choice of date for the evening isn't up for debate, Thomas," you tell him curtly, despite silently agreeing with his observation.

"Nothing ever is with you, is it?" he muses, his lips slightly pursing.

And there it is. 

Clearly, he's not going to let you get away until he has aired his grievances. 

Perhaps you owe him that courtesy at the very least.

Dropping your own mask of indifference, you take a step towards him and take his warm hand. To your surprise, he doesn't resist.

"I had to leave, Tommy. You were never going to turn things around. You were never going to change. But for what it's worth, I am sorry about leaving the way I did. I should have been better. I should have been braver."

Tommy shakes his head, keeping his tightly guarded emotions at bay. "You left without warning. You never even heard me out."

"Without warning? God, Tommy. How can you stand there and say that? How could you possibly have missed it? I left you so many signs."

Tommy looks away, his eyes rapidly searching for something just out of sight. The only indication he's feeling anything at all. "I guess I never learnt to read your mind."

"You never learnt to listen," you fire back. "Or communicate at all for that matter. Would it have killed you to be honest with me? To tell me what you had planned?"

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "I was trying to keep you safe."

The realisation that he's never going to change his tune stings more than it should. You drop his hand. "I wish I could believe that." 

The truth, in your eyes, is that he never trusted you. He's never trusted anyone. How could you be expected to give your heart over to a man who would never let you into his own?

There's a beat of silence. Enough time for you to regret letting this conversation play out for so long. Nothing good can come from digging up the past. You should go your separate ways before any further irreparable damage is done.

"Was it worth it?" Tommy asks finally, a bite of frustration slipping through his calm facade. "Leaving everything behind for this?" He gestures around. "Are you happier now?"

"Yes," you lie, but your resolve is rapidly weakening under the intensity of his blue gaze.

The door to the ballroom swings open and a small gathering of revellers spills into the lobby, saving you from admitting the very thing you've been afraid of. 

That leaving Birmingham had been a mistake. 

Tommy reaches for your arm, tugging you away from the crowd and into a recess by the cloakroom. As a result, the two of you have infinitely closed the distance.

His chest, broad and still so inviting, is now inches from your own; his calloused hand is still wrapped firmly around your wrist, his thumb pressed against your pulse point.

Can he feel how fast your heart races?

"For all your talk of honesty, you won't face the truth yourself, will you?" He sighs lightly, something like disappointment coating his words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You scoff, feigning ignorance as a last resort.

Before he can respond, a loud cheer erupts from within the ballroom, saving you once again.

"That's midnight," you murmur just as Tommy glances down at his elegant gold pocket watch.

"Midnight," he agrees, his eyes flicking back up to your own. "Happy New Year."

You stare at him for a long moment, taking stock of his defining features. Long, dark eyelashes, the kind that would ordinarily be wasted on a man - but not Tommy; razor sharp cheekbones and a jawline to match. Crystalline blue eyes you could so easily drown in.

Almost imperceptibly, he shifts closer, large hands finding your waist with ease.

"Do you still believe in tradition?" He wonders, but it's a rhetorical question. You both know he doesn't need an answer.

Your last sensible thought before he leans in to kiss you: God damn Tommy Shelby and those ocean eyes.

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy

[rmd-writes]

hello rmd!! as i was rereading what like it's hard for the nth time, i just realized that they never said i love yous in real time (does that make sense???) or there was never a scene where they said their first i love yous because it was 12 mos later when it was on writing (which is perfect) so i wanted to ask if you have any ideas or scenarios or hcs in which they said if first??? like idk from your drafts or something?? obvs cannot get enough of this au!!!

hi nonnie! I saw this ask on the weekend, didn't have time to answer it and then forgot until just now - sorry!

I'm so glad you like this story, it really means so much to me that you've reread it at all, let alone more than once! 💖💖 What you said does make sense and when I was writing it, I wrestled with Alex and Henry not saying their first "I love you" on screen so to speak because I wanted to give them that moment, but I also needed to move the story forward!

I don't have drafts to share because I never actually wrote the scene but I have thought about it and I think that they would have both known that they were in love for some time before they actually say it.

A couple of months after the baseball game, Alex is in the middle of trial prep and working impossibly long hours (more so than usual). Henry hasn't seen him for over a week beyond Alex crawling into his bed at midnight and passing out with his chest pressed to Henry's back, then rolling out of bed again far too early in the morning to go to work. So, in a bid to actually see his boyfriend while he's awake, Henry stops by Alex's office one night with dinner.

Alex is running on more caffeine than is advisable (his usual intake is inadvisable, he's exceeded that. Brianna has refused to bring him more coffee so Alex has resorted to getting the junior staff to do it for him instead, to much disapproval from Bri). When Henry texts him to say he's downstairs with dinner at 8pm Alex realises that he hasn't eaten at all that day except for a shitty muffin that Bri stole from a conference room and just about forced down his throat at 2pm because she was sick of Alex being hangry. He races down to the lobby to see Henry and almost knocks him over because he hugs him so hard. He takes a second just to rest his head on Henry's shoulder and inhale his scent because he fucking misses his boyfriend.

Regretfully, Alex doesn't have time to sit and eat with Henry, if he's going to have any chance of making it home (no, he's not going to think about the fact that he just thought of Henry's apartment as 'home', it's just an expression, don't fucking mention it) while Henry is still awake.

"Fuck, I love you for this," Alex says, kissing Henry lightly on the lips before taking the take out container that Henry offers him and walking away.

He doesn't clock what he's said until he's halfway back to the elevator. He turns around slowly when it hits him and Henry is still standing there, smiling.

Alex walks back to Henry. "So, I said what I said," he says, almost defiantly.

"You did," Henry replies, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"And I fucking meant it." Alex takes a breath. "I love you."

Henry's smile lights up the lobby, hideous fluorescent lights be damned.

"I love you too."

They kiss for far longer and with more passion than is advisable in Alex's workplace but neither of them care.

"Go finish your work," Henry murmurs against Alex's lips.

(Alex makes it back to Henry's apartment at 10.30pm that evening. He tells Henry he loves him with his whole body, writing it into his skin with his words, the press of his lips and the cut of his teeth. Henry says it back over and over and over again, as he presses Alex into the mattress, with the featherlight touch of his fingers and the roll of his hips and his breath warm against Alex's neck as he speaks.)

don't estop me now series (aka rwrb lawyer au - I'm begging you to please read them in the order I've published them in for maximum enjoyment)

[glazelilysoup]

how you met alhaitham

content: reader is gn, alhaitham is blunt, implied as a spantamad researcher, reader is sleepy, i don't think the house of daena has an upper floor but a girl can pretend, might be ooc, i don't think there are any legitimate warnings, its just fluffy

info: this was supposed to be headcanons with multiple characters, but i got really into it and wrote too much. might do similar concepts with other characters (as originally planned) in the future. i wrote this over the course of 3 days and it was usually at midnight, so it's not the greatest. gets progressively worse the more you read.

word count: 1.4k

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times like these were enjoyed immensely by both you and the scribe. it often became the most anticipated part of your days. it began with the fact that alhaitham had wanted more space than usual, and as a result, had gone to the largely unoccupied upper floor. there were fewer shelves on these higher floors, largely used for works of fiction. it wasn't often researchers indulged in anything but facts, so the area became frequented by those looking for solitude.

he took note of how every large table had multiple people sitting there- after all, a crowded library will still be crowded even in the most secluded spots- so he walked clear to the other side of the astoundingly huge library. it was a mirror of the other side, the same amount of tables in the same spots. just like before, every table had two or more people at them. he internally scowled before he viewed you in his peripherals. you were at a smaller table, alone, hidden away by a bookshelf.

you looked like you wanted to be alone, with your nose buried so deep in that book of yours- information on irminsul, he noticed. he surmised that wanting to be alone in the company of someone who had the same goal would be preferable to sitting next to someone as annoying as kaveh. he saw the small glance you took at his hand once it rested on the back of the chair, quickly going back to focus on your studying.

"may i sit here?" it was strange to hear the scribe be so quiet, but it was a library after all. you gave a terse nod, one that would have easily been missed had he not been the ever-perceptive scribe.

as time went slowly by, the scribe realised he may not have been as perceptive as he thought. every 50 pages or so, at a good stopping point, he would observe you for a few moments. you looked like you would pass out at any moment. a while later, you had adjusted your posture to have the book flat against the table and your head lingering just above it. not long after, your head was resting on your elbows, arms crossed, with hushed, relaxed breathing the only sound from you. no longer did you turn the pages.

alhaitham pondered his options for a moment. he could wake you up to spare you the embarrassment of being asleep for so long. on the other hand, you had looked very tired. he could let you sleep. he couldn't empathise with your current situation, so he settled to leave you be until either you woke up of your own accord, or until he left.

in all honesty, he was somewhat shocked to find that you were still asleep when he decided to leave. it had been hours, and there were exponentially fewer people than there were when he had arrived. "hey," he frowned when you had not even so much as stirred. he didn't want to be rude, but he resorted to his method of waking up kaveh. he slammed a book down on the table. it instantly proved fruitful as you jumped immediately, squeaking out a small "sorry!" he guessed that this was a more common occurrence than just this time.

"i apologise for the rude awakening. i had tried to wake you up other ways, and they hadn't worked." he found your shy expression and the pink that dusted your cheeks at this revelation to be quite endearing.

"oh lord- it's alright, i shouldn't have fallen asleep. uhm, would you mind telling me what time it is?"

"i believe it's slightly past eight o'clock." that's no good, that's no good at all, you promised your roommate you would make dinner tonight. you scrambled to collect your things, choosing not to notice how he watched you panic.

"thank you for waking me up, but i really must be going now," you didn't make it very far before he stopped you.

"hold on a second. you're still tired, i can see it in the way you move. i don't think it would be wise for you to walk alone in your current state. would you let me see you home safely?" it was truly appalling, the sheer amount of bluntness his words held. your pride told you to refuse because you were fine. but common sense was screaming at you to say yes. tiredness tugged at your eyes, blurring your vision and pulling your eyelids down.

again giving a small nod, but he was perceptive enough to pick up on it. as you exited the library, he asked you something, "i don't think i caught your name," oh, right. with how infamous the scribe was, you had already known him, yet he had no clue who you were.

"oh! it's y/n," he mouthed the word a few times, practising how it rolled off his tongue.

"y/n... i quite like that name," you saw the smallest hint of a smile and could've sworn you were hallucinating.

the next time alhaitham went to the library, he didn't bother with his usual assessment of how busy the library was. instead, he headed directly upstairs to your usual spot. one he got to the table, he didn't bother asking to sit, either. he knew you would let him. it had gone largely the same as last time, you fell asleep after an hour or two, and he had woken you up when he left. he walked you home just as he had before, as well.

those walks were always comforting, and though the sun was setting by the time the two of you left, his presence filled you with warmth.

this routine was repeated most days, and you two became quite good friends, often making thoughtful conversation should you see each other. provided you have free time, of course. unfortunately, alhaitham has been running low on just that recently. his position as the scribe became rather demanding, but you weren't too worried. he always made enough time to reach the library to wake you up, and sometimes he got there early enough to read. he wasn't the kind to keep to a routine, but this particular one gave him a semblance of normalcy that he quite liked.

one day, when he arrived at the house of daena, you were nowhere to be found. he felt a sort of... melancholy wash over him. when you had found him the next day and informed him that you simply hadn't the time to go to the library that day, he was glad that it was just a miscalculation, and that it wasn't any fault of his own. in his subconscious, he felt a pang of guilt for not being there lately. he vowed to arrive a bit earlier from now on.

the next day, alhaitham arrived at the time usually he did before he became incredibly busy. he had sat in the seat directly next to you, instead of across the table like usual. you raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it further. "y/n, would you humour me for a moment?"

humour? that was the last word you expected to come from the scribe's lips at this moment. "i guess it depends on what humouring you entails."

"go on a date with me," you nearly choked on your saliva, he didn't hesitate at all, "i just so happen to find your presence more enjoyable than most. is that such a bad thing?"

"not at all! it was just- unexpected," it took a moment to regain your composure, "i'd love to go on a date with you, 'haitham." he raised a brow at the nickname.

"i'll be here same time tomorrow to get you," and then he brought out his book and started reading as if nothing had just happened. once again, his blunt nature served only to shock and confuse you. after a while, sleep caught up to you, as usual. only this time, you had fallen asleep sitting up. strange, alhaitham thought, you always rested your head on the table when falling asleep. he figured you would adjust to lying on the table soon enough. he soon felt something hit his shoulder. as he looked over, he saw your head on his shoulder.

and although his face showed no change in expression he couldn't help but feel his ears get warmer, and for a split second, he could've sworn his heart ached.

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© glazelilysoup 2023 | do not modify or repost

[imwall-e]

W&TWS || Doubts

Summary : He is a super-soldier of more than 100 year old, struggling to find a place in this new world. She is a young student of 23, struggling with life. But they know they can find comfort and help in each other.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings : a bit of angst and anxiety, also fluff and always Bucky being the best

A/N : I am back to writing this fanfiction. It is more a journal to me, but it feels good to write like that and to share the story of Bucky and Willow. I hope you love it !

Series Masterlist

May 10th 2021

The exams had started the week of her birthday. Willow had barely revised, but was still doing her best to answer the questions and write good essays. She had a feeling, however, that it wouldn't be enough, but she was at peace with that. After all, this degree no longer suited her. All she had to do was make a decision: try her luck at the catch-up exams (because yes, she would definitely have to go), or give up altogether.

Strangely enough, her reflections led her to William. They had only been dating a few months, and she had taken just as long to get over what he had done to her. The wound still hadn't completely healed. A new question came to mind: was it a good idea to start a relationship with Bucky?

True, they had only exchanged a kiss, but perhaps everything was still moving too fast? Perhaps she needed to take her time? She wrote down all her anxieties on the paper she'd used for drafts, and promised herself she'd tell Bucky about them the next time they called.

He had gone back to New York a few weeks earlier, and it was difficult for them to communicate. She knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work in the long term. Especially in two different time zones.

She didn't want to get too attached like in her previous relationships. But Bucky seemed so kind. So thoughtful. However, bad times in the past forced her to be wary of many things, and many people. Even Bucky.

The teacher supervising the exam indicated that there was still an hour to go before the end of the exam. She glanced at her paper: barely four pages... She sighed, gathered her things, handed in her paper and went home.

The journey seemed long. Longer than usual. When she arrived, she was greeted only by her dog Dino. Her mother must still be at work. She took the opportunity to relax a little: take Dino for a walk, have something to eat, continue reading a book. Around 6pm, she took a shower and fell asleep a few minutes after getting into bed.

May 11th 2021

When she woke up, it was past midnight. The house was quiet. Her bedroom door was closed, probably by her mother who had preferred to let her sleep in. She reached for her phone and was blinded for several seconds by the brightness.

A few notifications from her group of friends told her that she wasn't the only one who had failed the exam. Dysariel's plan was holding up, which surprised none of them, after all he always got the best marks.

However, it was two other notifications that caught his attention. They were from Bucky:

Bucky Bear At 10.30pm: Hello Sunflower, I hope your day went well and that you managed to pass your mid-term. Give me your availability for tomorrow, I want to call you for your birthday. At 00:00: If my clock in New York is telling the right time for you, it's time for me to wish you a very happy birthday, my Sunflower. I haven't heard from you, so I assume you've fallen asleep. Thinking of you. PS: I also have a surprise for you that should arrive later today.   Sunflower At 00:15: Thank you, Bucky Bear! I'll be available from midday. I don't have any exams in the afternoon. Do I get a hint about my surprise? I'm thinking of you too. Bucky Bear  At 12:16am: Sorry, but if I tell you, it won't be a surprise! I've got to go to one last meeting. Go back to sleep, you need your rest. I can't wait to see you again.

His messages made her smile. He hadn't forgotten her birthday. He was going to surprise her. She had to concentrate on the positives. She wished she could go back to sleep now, but she knew she wouldn't be able to. So she grabbed her computer, plugged in her headphones and started watching videos. 

She was woken up by her seven o'clock alarm, just two hours after going back to sleep. She nearly fell asleep on the train journey to university. 

This morning she had an English grammar exam from nine to noon. However, she already knew that she would get out early because it was the subject she had mastered the most. Two or three exercises were more complicated and she could guess that she wouldn't get all the points. The most important thing was that she would at least pass the subject.

Zephyr, Dysariel, Axel and Ophélia went out more or less at the same time as her. They stayed another hour to eat together at one of the local fast-food restaurants. They talked about everything and anything. And Bucky.

"So," asked Dysariel, "how are things going with your handsome soldier?"

"Fine," replied Willow, blushing. I'm just a bit scared..."

"Of what?"

"That it's going too fast. Besides, the age difference is great, I mean he's over a century old."

They laughed together and all advised her the same thing: they were sure that what was between her and Bucky was special, but she had to take her time and think about her well-being.

Then came the time to go home. Zephyr went first, his parents being stricter about his going-out times. Then it was Ophélia's turn, as she had almost two hours by train to get home. Dysariel had things to do and wanted to revise for the hardest exam on Thursday: US history. Axel and Willow were the last to leave.

They had barely taken a few steps out of the main building when Axel remarked to Willow, "Look who's here." Indeed, Bucky was coming towards them, in a superb black suit. "I've got a train to catch and I think you deserve some time with him. Happy birthday again and see you on Thursday!" Before Willow could reply, Axel had already crossed the pedestrian crossing. When she turned her head towards Bucky, he was standing next to her, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands.

"Happy birthday, Willow. I hope you don't mind that I came unannounced, I definitely wanted to surprise you." He looked tired but happy to see her again. As for her, she couldn't say a word because she was so surprised. She could only throw herself into his arms.

He held her close. Her long blonde hair smelt of monoi, the scent they both associated with summer. Bucky could already see himself taking her on holiday to the beach, or to New York to meet the people he considered to be his family.

Together they got into the car. "I was thinking we could go for lunch somewhere?" Bucky suggested.

"We've already eaten with the others. Maybe tonight?"

"Yes, of course. Say, I've booked a hotel room for the week, at the park where we spent our first date. We can also spend the day there tomorrow. Are you interested?

"Why not."

Bucky noticed that Willow didn't seem as cheerful as usual. He gently stopped the car at the side of the road, and turned to her, "Is everything all right?" Worry showed on his face and Willow couldn't help crying. There was the stress of the exams, the happiness of seeing Bucky again, the fears that were interfering with her thoughts.

So she told him about all the doubts she had about their relationship. She apologised several times. Bucky took her face in his hands: "Willow, look at me. It's all right, I'm not angry with you. Unless you never want to see me again, we'll take our time. We'll go at your pace. I promise you that. Now, I just want to know if we spend the afternoon and tomorrow together, or if I drop you off at your place?"

"I think I'm scared because of what happened with my old boyfriends."

"Willow, you don't have to tell me about it. Only do it if you want to or if you're ready."

"I am."

"Then we'll talk about it, but let me take you out for dessert. I know when you get really anxious and it calms down, you get hungry right after."

The fact that he remembered little details like this warmed her heart, and a big smile lit up her face. Bucky started the car again, one hand resting on Willow's thigh. Willow put her hand on his. She was already feeling a little lighter.

I hope you love this chapter, I'm writing the next one ! Do not hesitate to like, comment and reblog if you feel comfortable to do so !

[robinsno1lesbian]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒 - 𝐑.𝐁. & 𝐍.𝐖.

you had a speech, you're speechless love slipped beyond your reaches and I couldn't give a reason

nancy wheeler x robin buckley

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: years after what happened in hawkins, nancy and robin meet again and things take a different turn from what they'd expected

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4663

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content! (MDNI), porn with plot & feelings lmao, mild angst, implied cheating, mention of alcohol, vaginal fingering, oral sex (as always let me know if i missed anything!)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 1 year of ronance?? one thing: i wrote this on ao3 at first but when i was about to post it, they messed up the entire format. i sort of fixed it (took HOURS) but it might still look a bit odd?? idk just ignore that part i'm too lazy to fix it right now, it's almost midnight lmao! <3

when robin first saw her standing in the doorway, her heart dropped. not because she wasn't happy to see her because, god she was, but because it felt like seeing a ghost. a person from her past she would've never expected. especially not now, in the middle of a rainy july night she had planned on spending all alone on her couch.

nancy wheeler doesn't look like a ghost though, she looks so very real. her hair has grown much longer than robin has ever seen it and her face has changed too. she seems so much older but in all the right ways. in the ways, robin knows from whenever she looks in the mirror herself. they aren't kids anymore though that's just about how long it must have been since she last saw her.

she is dripping, summer rain drenching her clothes and soaking her hair. she's got her arms wrapped around herself, light blue eyes widened in surprise as if she wasn't expecting robin to actually open the door. strange, robin thinks, considering that she quite literally came to her apartment. but any of this, any thoughts and doubts vanish the second nancy speaks. it's just one word, but hearing the sound of her voice again is enough for her to feel an odd sense of comfort.

"robin-" she says, her facial expression something robin can't wrap her head around. she has half a smile on her lips and yet her eyes betray her. they're somehow scared as if she fears robin would send her away again. they hold a bit of surprise too that probably comes from the fact that this is her first time seeing robin too.

and just like that she stands there, in the hallway of robin's house, leaving a trail of waterdrops behind and smiling in a way that immediately captures the other woman's heart, even after years that have passed. as if she was never truly gone.

"nance..." robin mumbles, her raspy voice cracking when the nickname falls from her lips. "what- god what are you going here? i mean- i- god" she shakes head and steps all the way out of her apartment and into nancy's space. she can't even help herself but wrap her arms around the other girl's body and pull her into a hug. she can hear her gasps and loosens her hug for just a second, afraid that she has made a mistake, but nancy holds her in place and returns the hug with a soft "oh".

she can feel her wet clothes soaking the fabric of her own but she doesn't care. she doesn't care about anything but the fact that nancy is here, with her.

"oh my god" she mumbles and leans back, palms still holding her by the shoulders to look at her from up close "oh my god".

nancy chuckles, her smile spreading across her whole face. she seems relieved.

"you should-" she turns around to give a quick glance into her apartment. thank god she chose to clean up earlier. "you should come inside" ──────────────────

robin's couch bounces slightly under their weight as both women drop down onto it: nancy wearing a skirt and blouse that haven't gotten as wet due to her coat and robin with a bottle of wine and two glasses that she fills up for them.

she isn't sure when or why she has gotten this bottle, considering that she was never really a wine type of woman. but this seems like the right occasion or a least she hopes so.

it's not like she never really knew much about that either. she feels unusually exposed like this, well aware of nancy's eyes on her as she hands her the glass.

"so.." robin finally finds her voice "what brings you here?"

nancy takes a sip from her glass before she answers and robin's eyes immediately fall upon her jaw and the way it moves as she swallows the liquid. she drags her eyes away from it when nancy puts the glass down.

"steve gave me the address" she begins. "i was in town and...i didn't know where else to go"

"hold on" robin furrows her brows. "why are you in town?"

nancy inhales slowly. "i mean...i wanted to see you...i think...i- i kept thinking about you and i didn't have anything else to do"

robin wants to be surprised, wants to ask a million questions but how could she when nancy said that she wanted to see her ? that she kept thinking about her ? these words have her heart racing in her chest in excitement. the kind of excitement that reminds her of her youth and of all the times she had spent loving nancy. from afar at first and then from up close too, though no one ever knew about that.

it was their little secret, the one thing they had and shared in times when everything else had been ripped from them.

it was not what they should have done, robin knows that and she knows nancy knows too. it was tragic and heartbreaking and yet it was beautiful for as long as it lasted. and then, from one day to the other, it had all been gone.

"how long has it been?" nancy asks and tilts her head.

she looks beautiful like this, robin thinks, with her knees drawn to her body while she has an arm propped up up the armrest. she looks older, too; her hair has grown longer and her eyes seem to be less...tired? or exhausted, maybe?

either way, robin knows what must've caused this; the sleepless nights that followed the events of 1986 had left a mark on all of them. that seems to be gone now, though. or at least a lot less present.

robin wonders if nancy still falls asleep to the sound of jonathan's breathing. if they're still as strong as they were at 18. but she can't bring herself to ask that. she can't bare to hear the truth about the nights they had spent together back then.

although she can imagine it perfectly fine: "we were children robin" nancy would say, nipping on her glass of wine occasionally. "we didn't know what we were doing. it meant nothing". only the voice of imaginary nancy in her head makes her heart drop. it didn't mean nothing to her. of course not.

but nancy had jonathan, chose jonathan. even after the nights they had spent nuzzled up against one another beneath the weight of the blanket, telling stories about the things they would do once all of this would be over.

years have passed ever since. years of occasional calls, questions about life but always avoiding those topics. years of telling each other they would meet again soon and somehow they never did. robin wonders what changed.

"i'm not sure i want to know, actually" robin chuckles. "too long, that's for sure" "yeah" nancy nods, her gaze lingering on the coffee table absentmindedly for a split second. "too long"

she turns the wine glass in her hands before she finally speaks: "so, robin buckley" her head turns to look at her, her deep blue eyes sending shivers down robin's spine.

"how have you been here?"

"oh you know-" robin shrugs. "getting around...i have a pretty solid job, an apartment i like..."

"is-" nancy cuts herself off for a second, as if she's reconsidering her words, before she does speak "is there anyone?"

"oh" she blushes slightly, praying that it is dark enough to conceal the soft shade of red of her cheeks. "no...i mean, i guess there have been women but...it never felt right"

never felt right with anyone but you, is what robin means to say. she wants to scream it, at the top of her lungs, like she should've done when nancy left hawkins. maybe if she would've done so, things would be different now.

"what about you?" she asks instead, chewing the insides of her cheeks nervously.

the sight of this makes nancy chuckle to herself; years have gone by and this is still robin. all grown up now, long curls held out of her face with a hair claw so that her freckled skin is on full display. but it's still her: the tall girl who reached for her hand in the upside down, who held her when no one else did, who put bandages to the wound that have scarred now but are still a permanent reminder of who they are. who had always been so unapologetically herself.

"it's...difficult" she answers, drowning the last bits of wine in one gulp to give her the strength to go on. "jonathan and i we- well we were engaged as you know-"

the words are enough for her to internally flinch. she does know. she remembers the day she got the letter, inviting her to their 'engagement party' in big, loopy letters. it all seemed so final then. not like it hadn't already felt final before, but this seemed to be it.

"yeah" she nods.

"but that kind of...didn't work as we had planned" nancy looks down at her hands, at the spot where the engagement ring used to sit -tying her to a person whom she could never love the way he deserved it.

robin's gaze follows her, eyes widening slightly when she finds the spot empty. "what happened?"

"i don't think our visions of a future matched the way we thought they would. he had all those dreams and...i knew i couldn't give him that"

she nods along to her words softly.

"when did you...?"

"it's been a little while" nancy explains and puts the glass on the coffee table. "it's fine we don't- let's not talk about him right now okay?"

she knows robin deserves the truth. probably the most out of all people. but nancy is also well aware that this truth, her truth, could ruin them more than life already has. and she isn't ready to lose robin.

"of course, of course" robin agrees. "whatever you prefer it's just..."

she reaches out softly and ever so slowly until her hand reaches nancy's. their fingers link in an instant and for a split second, they're in the upside down again, darkness all around while creatures of terror are screeching in the distance. they're both 18 once more, secretly head over heels for the other while knowing they could not be.

just like all these years ago, skin meets skin and all the worries in this world become white noise to their feelings.

nancy blinks and her eyes find robin's. they're 26 again, in a beautiful apartment that is more robin than anything imaginable. times have changed, they have too.

"you got this" she whispers, just like nancy once did. "and even if you don't, i got you"

a soft smile creeps upon her features, softening the sharp edges of her face that she never grew out of. robin is happy she didn't. she has always been the most beautiful woman robin has ever laid her eyes on and yet mid-20s look good on nancy, probably even better than 18.

"maybe i should have stayed" nancy mumbles. "robin did i...did i make the wrong choice?"

she clears her throat, slightly taken aback by the answer. her younger-self would have yelled now. she would have yelled and screamed and cried about how she did make the wrong choice and how she broke her heart by leaving.

but she has grown.

nancy hadn't been ready, unlike herself. it had been unfair, but that's the way it was then. robin had sworn herself she wouldn't waste her time waiting for a woman that had chosen her own way.

now she knows that she has waited all along.

"you didn't, you- you weren't ready nancy" she explains. "this couldn't have worked like this"

nancy tilts her head and gives her a look that tells her just how thankful she is. she also leans in a lot closer than she did before. but maybe robin is imagining that part.

"is there still time...?" she breathes. oh she's definitely not imagining that. she can feel nancy's breath on her face. "can i- god, please let me fix this"

and then she closes the little distance that is left between them.

her lips feel softer than they did back then. she must've dropped the anxious habit of chewing on them. but robin doesn't care about that right now, and pushes the thought away for another time.because nancy, her nancy, is kissing her again.

it's been years of longing for the taste of those lips and yet robin remembers. robin remembers everything.

they still feel like flying on clouds and taste like the summer of '86. their mouths meet softly at first, testing long-forgotten waters. they're a long series of pressing carefully and giving in for the silent plead. that's until nancy's part slightly and robin can't help but follow suit immediately.

nancy allows robin to take control over the kiss, unlike she had done back when they first kiss.

the sensation of tongues sliding against each other has her head spinning too much to remain in control over anything.

robin wastes no time in pulling them up, her lips never leaving nancy's as they move through the apartment in a haze.

"h-how do you- i mean- is this-" robin curses herself for this damn rambling that comes up at the most inconvenient of all times. the other woman doesn't mind though. she just smiles.

"your bedroom, robin" she whispers.

"oh, yeah...yeah right" robin says, biting her lip.

that same smile is still plastered over nancy's face when she mumbles a sweet invitation of "come here" and wraps her arms around her again.

they stumble down the hallway of the apartment, occasionally walking against corners and walls without breaking their kiss. there is a trail of clothing following them on the wooden floor, a sweater, a blouse, and a tank top lining up until where they're standing. nancy chuckles against her lips as the taller woman struggles to find the doorknob behind her, all while she is getting pressed against it by her. once she figures it out, robin wastes no time in pulling nancy inside. suddenly very self-conscious, she stands in front of her, finally allowing robin to take in the beautiful sight in front of her.

she is standing right in front of robin the woman who she loved all these years ago. who she still loves, if she's being honest. but this is probably not the time for this conversation, nancy decides. not when she's wearing nothing but a lacy bra and her jeans still, just waiting for robin to undress her.

"you're- you're so beautiful, nancy" robin whispers, her eyes glued to her body. there's no shame in her shameless gaping. for the first time, she can actually do so without feeling utterly ashamed. and she's making some good use of that. blush creeps up her chest and robin's lips curl into a smile.

"you're beautiful too" nancy returns and steps into her space. robin is wearing a rather decent, black bra, but god it looks good. she reaches out, her palm meeting robin's upper arm just beneath her shoulder. neither of them speaks, heavy breathing the only proper noise they can manage as she runs her hand upwards softly. over the outstanding collarbones, the hundreds of freckles she has counted more times than she cares to admit, over the soft flesh of her pulse point, until her fingers wrap around the back of her neck.

robin has moved her hands down to settle on nancy's waist and, just like that, she pulls her in. they lean in slowly, slower than they've ever done it before. seizing every second they can get of this.

it is nancy who eventually closes the distance by pulling robin towards her with her hand on her neck.

their moths meet parted, hot breaths past each other's lips while they press their foreheads together.

"i want you" nancy mumbles and is rewarded by robin's mouth pressing against hers. their tongues slide together within seconds. they move together softly at first, taking their time to explore each other's mouths. but when robin sucks nancy's bottom lip into her mouth and nancy audibly gasps at the feeling, the last bits of remaining ice is broken.

this is also all it takes for the kisses to reach new heights, hands roaming freely while they're still hooked to the other's lips. eventually, though, robin breaks the kiss. nancy is about to complain, at least that's until robin's lips attach to her neck and her parted lips -prepared to let out a complaint- open wider to let out a sinful gasp, followed by "oh Robin".

her mouth is doing some absolute magic work on her neck that has her legs shaking and leaves her with no other choice but to hold on to the back of her head and pray that she won't stop anytime soon. robin isn't planning on stopping, of course. this, the feeling of nancy's fingers curling up in her hair, her racing pulse beneath her lips, her soft moans like fuel to the fire that's burning within her, it's all so much. it's pure bliss. it's not nearly enough.

as her tongue licks a long stripe up nancy's neck, her fingers find her nipples through the thin lace of her bra. nancy mumbles some incoherent words of how she needs it off of her but robin gets the hint and reaches around her body, unclasps it with surprising ease that has nancy wondering just how many women robin has been with since her, and let's gravity do the rest of the work as it drops to the floor.

nancy's eyes meet hers and she feels almost shy now, with robin still in her underwear while she has been stripped out of her own. that can be changed though, she realizes, and steps forward to get robin into an equal state of undressing.

robin chuckles to see how eager nancy seems to be to ger her naked but doesn't mind one bit. she guides the other woman to the bed, where she sits down on the edge of the mattress before pulling nancy onto her lap.

her fingers run over her cheeks, cupping her face in her soft hands while she looks down at her through the dim light.

"i missed this" she whispers quietly, so quietly robin isn't even sure she was supposed to hear it. her voice is layered with so many emotions but nancy wheeler is not gonna get emotional about sex. yet the image of robin is enough for her to start crying if she just focused on that for long enough. "i missed you".

"i missed you too, nance" robin replies. her voice is as raspy as it ever was, like music to nancy's ears.

"please touch me!"

and so she does. she brings her lips to her chest and kisses all over her skin. nancy leans her head back immediately, her eyes fluttering shut at the heavenly sensation of finally having her mouth on her body again. she still has a hand behind her head and guides her softly, giving her a suggestive tug of her hair, closer to her hardened nipples. robin understands within seconds and wraps her lips around them before sucking softly. her eyes meet nancy's as she does so and she is delighted to see that nancy's lips have parted and she is panting at the new feeling.

"oh god...yes!"

her lips begin trailing further downward after a bit more of this, further and further, as far as their current position allows it. at the same time, she has both of her palms on nancy's back to hold her close.

"beautiful" she whispers. "so beautiful...so pretty..."

then, when nancy least expects it, she spins them around so that she has her laying beneath herself. nancy lets out a noise of surprise that turns into sweet laughter once she realizes what robin is up to.

she watches her with curious eyes as the other woman props herself up over her with both of her arms. it gives her just the right amount of space between their bodies to wrap her arms around her body and, with a questioning tilt of her head that robin confirms with a nod, take off her bra too. once she has loosened it, she allows the fabric to slide down her body.

her fingers dance over robin's ribcage faintly, feeling the swell of scars that she carries from the battle in hawkins still. she hopes that each line of her fingerprints might help them heal.

robin's breathing is labored when nancy's hands find her breasts and she gives them both a gentle, careful squeeze.

"holy shit nance-" her voice is richly layered with want for the girl beneath her and carries little cracks with it that shoot right down to nancy's center.

she leans down again, kissing her already swollen lips. she would probably allow nancy to play with her tits for hours -maybe one day she will actually ask her to do so, assuming that this is more than a one-time thing- but she wants her, needs her. nancy sucks on her tongue and robin groans audibly, a noise from deep inside her throat. finally, her lips move downwards again, except that this time their position is not an obstacle for that. she kisses her way down, until she is laying between nancy's legs, her fingers hooked around the waistband of her skirt. she lookes up at her and mumbles "can i?"

"please" nancy nods. "please"

robin pulls down both her underwear and the skirt and brings it all the way down her long legs before throwing it over her shoulder absentmindedly. she keeps looking right into nancy's eyes though, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by gaping at her pussy. nancy wouldn't mind though, if anything, she would greatly appreciate it if robin finally gave her the attention she wants.

she spreads her legs even wider and finally, robin's eyes wander lower. she visibly licks her lips and inhales sharply at the sight in front of her:

nancy is wet. she's so wet and wanting for her.

she fights back the internal urge to press her thighs together, because that would mean robin would probably lean back and that is the last thing she wants. instead, she grabs the back of her head and bucks her hips upwards. robin gets the hint and lets it happen, lets her pull her face into her. she puts her hands to her inner thighs and holds her open as she licks a broad, long stripe through her with the flat of her tongue, before circling her clit with the tip of it.

it seems as if she hasn't forgotten a thing after all this time, as if she still remembers all the spots that have nancy seeing stars. she wraps her lips around her clit after some more licks and sucks gently, immediately earning an arch of nancy's back and a broken moan of her name in response.

she keeps teasing around her clit with her tongue and then occasionally dips down to gather more of her arousal on her tongue to bring it up.

"fuck nancy" she breathes, voice all hoarse. "you taste so fucking good"

nancy only tries to pull robin closer at that. she feels so hungry right now. she wants more, she needs more. nancy doubts she has ever felt this way before. not with Jonathan, definitely not with steve back then. and even the nights she has spent with robin...nothing could compare to what this feels like. back then they had to rush things, had to keep it quiet, had to love each other in utter silence. now she can love her freely, she can let robin love her freely. for the first time she doesn't have the weight of shame on her shoulders.

robin is still sweeping her tongue through her, but she does it slowly. firm and with purpose, but it is obvious that she wants to take her time with this. just like nancy does.

"oh robin..." nancy's eyes have fallen shut, which gives her no warning when robin begins toying a singular finger to her entrance. her eyes fly open at that but before she has time to fully comprehend it, she pushes it inside and she cries out loud. the noise has robin clenching around nothing between her own legs because she can head just how good nancy is feeling because of her.

she pumps it into her a couple of times, attentively watching what nancy seems to like before the woman above her lets out a whiny "more please" and she adds a second one to it. the pushes it into her slowly but nancy takes it all, moaning as she stretches her further.

"oh- oh my god robin- right there fuck" she moans.

robin wastes no time in getting her mouth back on her and syncing the licks of her tongue over her clit with the thrusts of her fingers. "you're so pretty like this" she mumbles against her and the vibration of her voice goes right into nancy's aching cunt. after a couple of minutes of this, of slow thrusts and licking, she starts picking up her pace. she can feel nancy growing slightly impatient; hips rolling with each curl of her fingers and fingernails scratching her scalp in a desperate attempt to have her closer.

she gets a reaction out of her immediately. the volume of her moans increases and she can feel her legs shaking around her head.

"robin- shit robin- i'm- i'm close" nancy gasps, her back arching off the mattress while she rocks her hips forward in quick motions, chasing her orgasm. "please- please robin please"

"shh" robin hushes her and puts a palm to her stomach to ground her back down onto the bed. "don't worry nance, i told you i got you"

and with that, she picks up her pace again, much quicker this time. high pitched moans echo through the room as nancy grabs for robin's other hand that is still sitting on her thigh and holds onto it for dear life as she comes. robin fucks her through it, and allows her to ride her orgasm out on her tongue; she just lays it flatly against her, and nancy does the rest of it.

nancy's moans are louder than she has ever heard them. she sounds so fucking pretty, robin thinks to herself.

eventually, nancy's orgasm has washed over her and she comes down from her height. she is panting, her chest rising and falling while her eyes are still closed and she is leaning back.

"holy shit" she breathes and chuckles, the aftershocks still rippling through her limbs.

"yeah..." robin mumbles, chin and fingers covered in nancy's cum. "holy shit"

"god" nancy opens her arms. she sounds still breathless but her gaze settles firmly on robin. "come here please"

that's all the woman needs to hear. she slowly withdraws her fingers from her, still careful not to accidentally overstimulate her right now. once she has pulled all the way out, she crawls up her body and nancy wraps her arms around her to hold her especially close. she kisses all over her, every part of her head she can reach: her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. "thank you" she manages in between kisses. "oh thank you robin..."

robin just smiles, allows her to hold onto her as she recovers from her orgasm.

she's not sure what this means yet, not sure what will happen once they finish whatever this is. she knows she wants nancy to stay. not just for the night but for much longer. she knows that letting her go again would be too much for her to bare after she has lost her once before.

so she holds her just a tiny bit closer to her own body, strokes just a little bit more of her skin she can reach, and whispers sweet nothings to her to steady her racing heart. makes use of everything she can get as long as she has it, the fear of nancy leaving slowly creeping into her head.

little does she know that nancy, who is running her fingers through her hair as she enjoys the soft kisses and touches on her skin, has already made up her mind. that for the first time ever, nancy is not afraid to make a choice this fundamental.

nancy knows what she really, truly wants. she knows she wants robin.

and she will show her just how much...

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. currently very tempted to write a part 2 so...

[raainy-daze]

The Snatcher.

[previous.] ➼ chapter two. ➼ [next coming soon…]

rise of the tmnt x gn!reader [PLATONIC], rise!leo x gn!reader

summary: someone keeps stealing everyone's things. nothing they've stolen has any correlation, and it's anyone's guess why they're doing it. as time goes on, the list of crimes grows longer. reader just hopes no one realizes it's them.

reader goes for their second target, a set of michelangelo’s paints. unfortunately, as april and donnie’s investigation kicks into gear, they find themself on the list of suspects. what are they meant to do now?

word count: 1,894

a/n: HEYOOO i’m NOT abandoning this surprise. every time i say writer’s block has left me, it hits me like a train, so i’m gonna be totally honest this time: this may not get part three for another several months. it entirely depends on how well my brain chooses to cooperate.

on a different note, we’re approaching one year of this account! i like to think i’ve done somewhat good with my writing so far. anyhow, hope you all enjoy this!

By next Tuesday, everyone had been thoroughly interrogated. Again, except Draxum, who was having none of it.

The tape rolled on your interrogation. Well, if you counted a phone camera as a tape. For the sake of poeticism, the tape rolled on your interview. You were sitting at a table opposite the camera, or rather, April's phone, very clearly holding in a laugh. April sighed, and her voice was heard. “(Y/N), where were you on the night of April 16th?”

“Didn’t we already establish this?”

Although it wasn’t seen on the video, you remembered April had brandished a clipboard. “Look, Don’s the one who wrote the questions, not me.”

“It's for the sake of a record!” His hand barely came into frame as he emphasized his point.

You decided to entertain the question. “I was in the lair with everyone else. We were watching Atomic Lass Dies Again–”

“Atomic Lass Dies Again 2 ,” Donnie corrected you from behind the camera.

“Okay, okay, didn’t realize that was a necessary detail.” You held your hands up. “Yes, we were watching Atomic Lass Dies Again 2.”

“I recall you weren’t seated the whole movie. Where were you when you weren’t watching the movie with everyone else?”

“I was in the kitchen, refilling the popcorn bowl.”

“Three separate times?”

“Twice. The third time, I was looking for a phone charger.”

The scratching of a pen against paper was heard. “And after the movie ended?”

“I was with Leo in his room.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking through memes and shit.”

“And you were with Leo because?” Donnie interjected.

You raised an eyebrow. “He's my boyfriend. I thought that was a pretty clear reason.”

“You weren't... plotting?”

“If you mean plotting out our next Minecraft build, yeah, sure.”

“And you left when?” April interrupted the line of questioning before Donnie got out of hand.

“Oh, I’m not sure. Sometime around midnight, I guess?” Not technically a lie, depending on how you defined ‘sometime around’. You left it vague.

“So, well within in the time frame of the crime?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But April and Sunita were the only ones who weren’t present in that time, right?”

“Okay, well, did you see anything when you were leaving?”

“Well…” You began recounting what you saw before the crime took place. “Leo was still up when I left. Mikey’s door was left open when I passed, and he was passed out with some YouTube video playing in the background. I think it was some top 10 scariest roller coasters video or something? I’m pretty sure I was the last person to leave, everything was shut down in the living room.”

April nodded. “So if your story’s correct, that would mean it either had to happen before midnight, or it was one of Donnie’s brothers.”

“Or Splinter,” he interjected.

“I guess? I don’t know, I can’t really see your dad having a motive for it.”

“Old people are weird.”

“Especially Splinter,” you agreed.

And the video ended, everyone brought back to the present, April 22nd, 5:09 p.m., in the lair once more. “This is the final interview we recorded,” April stated, disconnecting her phone from the projector. “We took this Monday the 18th, the day before the second incident occurred.” She walked over to the whiteboard. There was a 'victim' column now, listing only Donnie. April now wrote Mikey's name beneath his.

•°. *࿐

Last Tuesday...

You weren’t actually supposed to be in the lair right now.

It was the middle of the day, and you knew none of the guys were home, thanks to Mikey’s social media. Did this count as breaking in? You weren’t entirely sure. Oh well.

You walked behind Splinter’s armchair, not really taking too much care not to be seen. You could hear him snoring, and when Splinter was out, he was out. He would have no clue you were ever here.

You knew exactly who and what your target was. You didn’t stop to look at anything else, you went right to Mikey’s room. The door was open, so you had no worries about fingerprints on the door, though you had brought gloves just in case.

You looked around his room and winced. It was… a bit of a mess. You'd expected it, but it still wasn't very encouraging. You had to shuffle around carefully to make sure you left everything in place. You hopped over the laundry pile to stand over his desk. Damn it. Everything was piled up on the desk, you could hardly tell what was where. You sighed and pulled out your phone, taking a picture of the desk. Then, you reached into your bag, pulling out the plastic gloves you’d taken from your parents’ cleaning supplies.

Once you pulled the gloves on, you began carefully sifting through his belongings. Using the photo you'd just taken, you made sure you put everything back where it belonged, right down to the exact degree of rotation. But with every section of clutter you went through, you were getting increasingly frustrated as you kept digging around and coming up with nothing. You even pulled open a few of the drawers, gentle so you didn't knock anything out of place, only to find nothing.

Finally, somewhat annoyed, you left the desk. If it wasn’t here, then where was it?

You looked around. Then your eyes landed on one splash of color in the ocean of it. You squinted, trying to decide if you were really seeing what you were seeing. You were.

“What kind of psycho paints on their bed ?” Mikey’s paints were lying next to a not-quite-dry canvas laid down on his bed. You spent a full ten seconds staring at it, just processing what you were looking at. That felt like a disaster waiting to happen. His brushes were sitting in a glass of water on his bedside table, at least. You snatched up the paints, and were about to shove them in your bag when you thought better of it. There were still drops of wet paint around the caps, and you didn’t want all your stuff to get stained bright green. So instead, you chose to just carry them in your arms and pray you wouldn’t drop them.

You strolled past Splinter, still snoring, and made it out without no trouble. They weren’t even close to home when you left. Wednesday, April 20th, 3:39 P.M. The Snatcher strikes again.

•°. *࿐

Back in the present, everyone stared as April finished the tail of the y on Mikey's name.

“Everyone, we've got a serial snatcher on our hands.”

“Snatcher. Uppercase S,” Donnie corrected.

“How do you know the capitalization of something I'm saying out loud?”

He shrugged. “I just do. Anyhow, not to say I told you so, but I told you so!”

“Are we sure he didn't just... misplace his paints?” Sunita asked, in the most sympathetic way possible.

“I DIDN’T!” Mikey was reacting almost as dramatically as Donnie had, but with tears as opposed to anger and suspicion. You honestly felt kind of bad seeing it. You hadn't thought the paints were that important to him. He had a billion, after all. “I LEFT THEM RIGHT THERE! ON MY BED! I KNOW I DID! I LEFT THEM RIGHT BY MY PAINTING!”

Raph was patting Mikey on the back, trying to comfort him while April sketched out the new crime scene right next to the previous one.

“Hey, Mike, don't be so upset.” This was just a dumb prank, you didn't want to make him actually cry over it. “Look, I'll buy you some new ones, okay? We'll go to the craft store later,” you offerred.

“Oh, but (Y/N) , it's not just about the paints!” Donnie interrupted you. “It’s the principle! We don’t just have a Snatcher anymore, we have a serial Snatcher!”

“That sounds fucking dumb.”

“Shut up, Cassandra.”

“And April already said that.”

“Shut up, Leo.”

You were pretty sure it was more about the paints for Mikey, but whatever. Let Donnie have his investigation. It was more fun that way. The whiteboard was pretty impressive, honestly. At least, it was now that April had organized it. When you'd first seen it, Donnie had kind of just scribbled everything anywhere he could put it. April was in charge of it now, and was officially making a 'suspects' column. Everyone watched with bated breath as she wrote, waiting to see if their names were present.

Leonardo...

A dramatic gasp. “Me? Well I never!”

Raphael…

“But why would I take my brothers’ stuff?!”

Cassandra…

“WHAT?! THIS IS UNJUST!”

Ah, fuck.

And you.

You made no response but a practiced perplexed expression.

April explained why she'd come up with this list. “Leo and Raph are the only two of the brothers who haven't had anything... well, snatched.” There were a couple snickers around the room - mostly just you and Leonardo. The Snatcher title really was being embraced. “For all we know, this could just be a Hamato brother thing. After all, no one outside the family's been proven as being involved. And, well, Leo does have a reputation,” she muttered the last part.

“Wow, biased much?”

“And, well, kind of a similar principle for you, Cassandra. No offense, but this does feel like something you'd do. And I mean, we've seen you professionally steal stuff.”

“That's behind me.” Cassandra huffed.

“And me?” You were dying to know what could've given you away.

“Suspicious behavior.”

“... Suspicious behavior?”

“Suspicious behavior.”

“...” The two of you shared a long moment of questioning eye contact. “... Do I get anymore context beyond that?”

“Sorry. Confidential information.” Donnie answered for her.

You ran through everything you'd said and done in the last week. You couldn't think of anything particularly incriminating. Did she actually know something, or was she bluffing?

Jesus Christ, what is this, Death Note?

When the meeting was dismissed, you and Leo turned to each other, immediately sharing your thoughts.

“I can’t believe she suspects us! I mean, I don’t even know what those batteries are used for!” Leo had a hand to his chest, trying to emphasize just how innocent he was. He didn't have to prove anything to you, you knew exactly who it was. You also knew they weren’t batteries, they were a bunch of cables for a GPS antenna. You knew because you stared at them by your closet every night before going to sleep. They cast weird, overlapping shadows on your wall that looked a bit like a nest of some sort. You had no clue how they were so tangled when Donnie had barely even touched them.

But you didn’t say that. It’d make you look suspicious if you were keeping track.

So instead, you just played along. “I know, right? I mean, I wasn’t even here when Mikey lost his paints.”

Once you were done with your 'can you believe how ridiculous this is' debriefing, the two of you sat there on the couch together. He had an arm over your shoulder, scrolling through memes on his phone. You would joke about them with him whenever he showed you one, but the gears in your brain were turning. You had to get April off your back, and quick. She was onto you, and you had to come up with a plan to fix that, and fast.

Time to pull some strings.

[ow-old-men]

Faces / Changes

Two immortal shapeshifters find each other. Again

——————————⋆♱✮♱⋆——————————

The first time Jaime becomes painfully aware that he is lovely, Kassem wears an unfamiliar face.

It’s not the first time. They’ve stumbled across each other with bodies fresh and impermanent, faces morphed or hidden before and it won’t be the last either. Time has slung them into each other’s orbit uncountable times already. The first time - at what Jaime has heard other, more temporary beings, describe as ‘the dawn of time’ - he’s pretty sure neither of them were much more than formless clouds of heat and potential. If Jamie had figured out how to give himself anything resembling eyes a few millennia before he did, there’s no doubt in his mind that Kassem would have been beautiful, even then.

No, the newness is not anything newsworthy in and of itself and that is not why the realization suddenly carves through his chest like a knife.

Kassem is leaning back on his hands in the shade, his face remade in a cascade of unfamiliar angles, his hands suddenly slender and free of the freckles Jaime spent a week mapping out sometime last century. He would recognize him anywhere.

Jaime puts his hand to the small of some woman's back, parts the sea of people gathered on the square and walks. He knows that Kassem has seen him, knows where this ends and that it still has to begin somewhere. So he stops a couple of meters away from the low table Kassem is sitting at. He wavers on his feet, two women dressed in flowy robes pass between them.

“You look good,” he says and can’t help that there is a breathy, too honest quality to it. Like he’s run miles through the cold, breath stuck in his throat and cheeks flushed. Kass just looks at him, smiles mostly with his eyes. Eyes that, Jaime suddenly notices, have retained their teint of burned amber. A flash of sunset though his midnight gaze. He would have been no less terrifically beautiful with eyes made wholly anew, and yet Jaime finds a pang of gratitude tingles through his spine.

“Thank you,” Kassem says, and like always, he manages to say it like it’s hiding some shared joke, “you too.”

Jaime runs a flighty hand over his own biceps, shrugs almost unapologetically. “Same old, same old.”

Kassem smiles until his eyes nearly close with it. He nods, almost imperceptibly. “Come sit anyway.”

Jaime does.

“What have you been up to?” Kassem asks and raises a teacup to his lips while Jamie shuffles carefully down beside him. Their knees do not touch under the table, but the few centimeters of air between them buzzes like a beehive.

He shrugs. He makes it a point not to count the years and simply let time bubble past like a river. He knows not how many years he is accounting for now, and right now he remembers only dimly exactly what he’s been. Briefly he was a wildfire along the coast of North America, wading through the flames that felt as much a part of him as this current face he wears. For an even shorter amount of time, he planted corn and traveled slowly further south, wearing a man’s face and a wide brimmed hat pulled down low. Mostly he’s waited with no real sense of what all this waiting will net him. At times he wrote flighty diary entries, through the fire scorched the majority and all were in some script he no longer thinks anyone but he could decipher.

“I hear you went on tour?” he says instead and that makes Kassem hunch his shoulders with a sudden burst of laughter.

“A tour?” he asks and the laughter bubbles in his throat and in his voice. Jaime adjusts how he’s sitting, feels the buzzing pride in his hands.

“You wrote, last time, some poetry” he says and is again betrayed by the tone, wistful and secretive like he hadn’t planned for it to be. “I’d hoped you got to share some of it?”

And this time it’s Kassems turn to shrug. He twirls the teacup once, then twice, looks up and Jaime is treated to the freckles suddenly scattered like secrets high on his cheeks. “Most of them weren’t meant for other people.”

At times, Jaime feels crude, almost unfinished, compared to the man beside him. He is a creature of heat and fire and malleable sudden change, and yet he finds that he’s become primarily a creature of habit.

His face is easy, now that he’s learned it’s shape. It stays intact and rarely flickers. He tries, for fun or out of boredom, to reimagine what he could be and finds that he catches glimpses of himself suddenly in mirrors and he’s become the thing he fought to change.

His self seems unavoidable. The shape of his nose the only one he can seemingly dream up. And yet he knows that he changes, right then and there. No blooming freckles, no glint blazing through his iris, but there is something.

“Well, I thought it pretty great.”

“Of course you did.”

He raises his hands reflexively. “I know great art when I see it.”

He’s not sure, but he’s pretty sure Kassem rolls his eyes at him. One of his hands lands on the table with the distinct clink of a ring wrapped around one finger. And it’s like the sound dislodges something in Jaimes chest. Or dislodges something hanging above his head that’s lingered there for a while. He stares, transfixed, at Kassems hands and finds, for the first time consciously, that he is beyond lovely.

Beautiful in a way that defies the very definition of that word. He could be anything - has been anything and then some - and yet the thing that is not beauty would still cling to him. It settles like a dying star in the pit of his stomach. It is almost unbearable when Kassem at last looks over, one brow slightly raised. It is both a question and a declaration that he already knows. Mostly it’s a dare.

Behind them, the crowd shuffles on through the market square.

“Would you care for a walk?” Jaime asks after a beat, exactly like he’s been prompted too. Kassem measures him up once, a darting heartbeat of a look over. Then he nods and stretches a hand out to the side after his cane. The eye contact never wavers.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The sun is still enormous and orange. Jaime knows from the taste of the air, that the sea isn’t far, but he has no idea what narrow streets he’d have to walk down to get there. It doesn’t feel important anyway. There sits a bubbling laughter in his throat and a flighty restlessness in his palms while Kassem walks and retells most of the time they’ve spent apart.

Then he falls silent. Jaime can almost hear the waves, at least he thinks so. The very air glows in soft orange.

Kassem runs a hand across the back of his skull. One of his thumbs digs into the strong tendon right where the skull and spine become one. His hands are soft.

“I think I’d know you anywhere,” he mumbles and pulls Jaime close until their lips meet. Hungry and soft and familiar. Halfway, Jaime wants to pry his eyes open and see if Kassems face changes and yet stays the same.

He doesn’t. He keeps them screwed shut and takes and takes. His hands find their way to Kassems shoulders, seemingly without needing any instructions. Holds him careful and desperate. He knows, can feel and in no way control, how his own face morphs - folds and becomes. It doesn’t matter. He’s learned by now he can’t become something that doesn’t look like the thing he is. Can’t become something that wouldn’t fit in the way Kass cups a palm around his jaw.

So he stays the same. And changes.

[aylacavebear]

Dimensional Shift - Chapter 2

Story Summary: Maria was just a regular girl, worked at a gas station, wrote fanfic, and loved Supernatural. She even created her own supernatural creature for her writings. When the aurora borealis comes to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, one Halloween night, everything changes for her in ways she never expected. Will she be able to navigate this new world she's thrown into?

Word Count: 878

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Controlling parents, angst, family issues, weird events, drinking.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

It was late, nearly midnight on Halloween. She’d watched a couple of episodes of Supernatural after her shift at the corner store while eating dinner, then got back to writing. She had been so engrossed with her latest fanfic that the time passed without her knowing it as the words flowed from her fingers onto the screen before her.

When midnight hit, though, the lights in her studio apartment flickered, and the aurora borealis could be seen outside. That shouldn’t have been possible, not with her living in South Dakota. Maria got up from the table and headed toward the window above her day bed. 

Of course, her mind went to Supernatural; it was all she thought about, especially if anything odd happened, and this was more than odd. She could also almost feel the electricity in the air around her as she reached the window and looked outside. Maria would have found the sky beautiful if she hadn’t thought like a hunter out of Supernatural. The greens, blues, yellows, reds, and purples all seemed to blend together in odd ways as they danced across the night sky. Several shooting stars, which were meteors, streaked across the horizon. Her mind raced with questions: what the hell was happening? 

The power then went out in the entire city before a bright, blinding white light shined everywhere for a second, then it was gone, as was the aurora borealis, and the power was back on. Maria’s heart was pounding in her chest, and it felt like it was hard to breathe while the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and goosebumps ran down her body. 

Can’t sleep now, she thought to herself as she walked into her tiny kitchen, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and a glass before sitting back in front of her laptop. She poured herself a glass, but when she went to go back to her fanfic, it wasn’t there. Most of her personal information from the thing was gone, almost as if it didn’t exist. She spent the next hour attempting to figure out what had happened and why her things were missing, including her favorite fanfic sites that she had written for numerous times. 

She sighed through her nose before taking another drink of her whiskey, it no longer lightly burning the back of her throat as she was halfway through it.

Great, what the hell was that damn light, she thought to herself.

She got back on her laptop and attempted to search it out, knowing someone had to have captured it with their phone, but she found nothing. That was when she noticed the date on the bottom right corner of her laptop, 9/16/2008.

“That’s not even possible…” her voice trailed off as she stared at the date. It was supposed to be October 31, 2022. 

Maria believed in the older beliefs, where things started, and knew that All Hallow’s Eve allowed the veil between the world of the living and dead to be thinner than usual. Still, she had never really put a lot of faith in much of any religion in her life. 

“Could it really have taken me back in time, and if so, why am I still the same as I was?” Maria’s mind raced.

She went back to her laptop and attempted to look herself up. Why not right, just to see, but there was no record of her, her parents, or her family anywhere online, not even on social media. She leaned back in her chair, sipping her whiskey, perplexed and puzzled. Her father’s law firm didn’t even appear on a single search. Her drink was gone, so at this point, she just began drinking from the bottle but didn’t even realize that she didn’t feel any buzz; her mind was too distracted by what had happened. She continued looking for anything online, even friends she used to talk to, but found no record of them either.

According to the time on the bottom right corner of her laptop, it was only nine at night. Her head was spinning, but it wasn’t from the alcohol. She hadn’t noticed that all her contacts in her phone were gone; the photos that had once held pictures of her with her family and friends had completely vanished, as had the tattoo of a black cat on the front of her left shoulder. It wouldn’t even make any sense to her until the morning, and she had no idea. 

Maria had finished her bottle of whiskey, mostly frustrated at losing her writing but also at the fact that she couldn’t find any information she had been looking for to figure out what had happened with the aurora borealis, the short power outage, and that bright light. She spent another hour online, still looking for some shred of anything to ease her worrying mind, but still found nothing before she finally called it a night, crawling into her bed and sleeping.

Her dreams were always the same, at least this last year; they were of Supernatural and Dean, of the fanfics she had written and ones she still had yet to write. She had no nightmares, just her fantasies playing out while she slept.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - S4E1

Dimensional Shift Master List

Main Master List

[greatsaladavenue]

Replies to anons

I’ve heard Imagine ofcourse but I do like more solo stuff post Beatles by Paul and John then by George. Sorry Mom.

 Been a Beatle fan longer than I haven’t, my Mother is the Beatle fan, her favorite has always been George, and really super-stans him.

 She has seen Paul in concert but I have never heard a Paul post- Beatle song before 2022! Or John – aside of Imagine and, Live and let die and them christmas songs.

 Solo: George-”All things must pass album + When we was fab, All those years ago , Got my mind set on you.

Paul – McCartney, Ram + Tug of war, This one, Little lamb Dragonfly, , However Absurd, No More lonely nights.  John –Plastic ono band + Dream9 ,Working class hero, I know, I know, Mind games, Beautiful boy.

  Ringo – Photograph, Back off boogaloo, Midnight Vienna.

 My favorite is John because even before I knew anything about the Beatles or who wrote or sang what I liked John led songs. I still do. Don’t think he’s better that the others. In my world they where better together and neither was really better than the sum. I know what he did, I know he is bad and all that. Guess what I don’t really care.

 I have a type in looks and john fit there. My Dad and brothers are the musicians in our family but Dad and is more a Elvis fan, (he + a brother died some many years ago but see it's Paul in me talking of them ) my brothers likes them too but they are more hard rock/metal fans. (in music I have the 70-80's metal genre ! the favourite band I Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. GEORGE usually gets my vote post-Beatle look as favorite looking Beatle, old man is RINGO!

 I grew up in the late 80/90’s when rock music started to really to go down and rap took over. "Harry Potter" was huge, It was nice to be part of something like that but then Rowling happend... I even had a short boy band period. Eminem was the biggest artist on the planet. I like 80’s and 90’s rap too. I pretty much like older music and a big fan of 80’s pop music too, Prince, Michael Jackson. I really love music and not just the Beatles along with some other artists and bands has more song that I like or has grown on me with time. I guess it’s true that older music was better.

I sort of feel a bit lonely with my Beatles  nobody around me IRL cares or think they’re overrated. I can agree that sometimes the beatles fandom can be a bit too much with the ”The Beatles did eveything first” and hate other acts who also was very important for music. Ofcourse it matters that the Beatles was white, ”sic” as most of the fanbase.  I have so many favorites and I love that I do.

McLennon is what really got me into the fandom. I’m straight myself but I’d never like want to fuck a 80 + year old man but I would be a Beatle groupie back in the days and don’t care which one I would do all of them. However I don’t really care what and if something happend between them I just see what i see, I hear what I hear. J+P are not straight

 I’m a mclennon thruther they where in love with each other! They where gay for each other. I don’t push Mclennon on anybody but here on Tumblr I do. I don’t think I believe eveything I read here is true, I also think many trolling this fandom and some seem to make fun it and comes off as a bit offensive to them as IRL queers. I can understand why Paul’s not coming out. I wouldn’t either in this or as part of the older fandom.

However I’m all for RPF, Yaoi, Yuri and femme the hell out of them. They do have that humour. Also they did all of it themselves, Iol, meaning if they didn't act this way we wouldn't be here. And I don't mean it as famous people they get a queer card.

I’m happy to continue reading your fics and fortcoming posts here. I really am!  I’ll probably keep my existence here as a re-blogger  because Beatles fans aren’t always nice about "us nutcases here" ( but it's better here than on other forums) and too many trolls end up here on tumblr mclennon. all the Beatles have haters and super-stans. Both is just as bad in my opinion. I love them so much, all four of them so much I don’t really have a favorite in Beatles, JOHN still gets my vote I'm a John -girl but they are still so connected. I do like more John-Beatle-songs than by the others tho and was super gorgeous.  

McLennon is my secret sin. I can’t unsee it or explain in any other way. There's a hole missing in the Beatles history as much as in their lives (J+P but also George how he was "left out" tho Paul and him knew each other before. Wouldn't Paul be saying more insane stuff about him too?) things would fill the blanks with McLennon! How can people not see that is my biggest issue. But far too many still today would say like if you got kids, has a wife, has sex with girls, you can't be gay. Yes, they both married women. but Well.. It's mind-blowing. They were so into each other.

My favorites Beatle songs and solo also keep changing all the time:

But The Beatles: Albums: From With the Beatles. Rubber soul and the White album.

 A day in life is a masterpiece.

I also end up listing Happiness is a warm gun, Something, Here, there eveywhere, Across the universe, Help, I will, All my loving, And your bird can sing, Tomorrow never knows etc!

McLennon: Again!

I absolutly believe it was was real. They where in love. The end goodbye. Sex yes they had sex in many ways. But whatever, when how they did it or talked about it or kissed? I'm sure some of the answers is in fan fiction lol. Reality is worse than fiction. Lol. But sometimes  I don’t think they never thought it was a big deal, like it was part of a song to Paul or whatever, and John’s did something to do with glasses. Like that's not me, this is me look at me. No i don’t know but quite often I just think it’s exactly what they are saying and didn’t label it. Other times I think they knew perfectly well what they did and they made own words so only they would know. Now we have Paul's sane but !? version for 40 + years vs John's bat shit craze -like 6+ years. of course it gonna shape our version of them and what happend between them.

 I do think whatever happend in the end John left and walked out of it how, when, why again is another story. I honestly don’t think he ever was secure of anything in his life and Yoko didn't help. I can't or more like don't want to believe eveything that is written about her tho. But the way she looks at him in the beginning she did love him then and there. She has at least made good things too for the fandom, made hits herself, worked for peace and less guns etc.

Paul more like gave up. I don’t blame or think India caused it but it deffo did not help! But neither did think of themselves at least at that point that they would try to claim anyhing of course Paul wanted a family and John knew that. I don't really see how they could have "solved" in any other way. At that time.

I have more thoughts about it. Here's when my mind keep changing. Whos missed who the most? who's more depressed? Woah don't forget it also WAS and IS tough to leave friends and bandmates behind, please do include that. Not everthing is gay either! But I’m pretty sure more than we know knew about it or at least thought the same thing.

They where ALSO friends, brothers,close,bandmates and shared this magic connection with George and Ringo. Sometimes I believe they got jealous of each other’s closeness, especially post beatles and they did tried to re-create this with other people too and this is perhaps the most telling, besides quotes, interviews,pictures, videos and songs. Yeah many songs are about that and each other.

 I don’t push away the idea of other ships happening in the band or other male lovers but if it was only them, to either of them it may have add to some of the confusion. So I don’t hold that against it. Actually I don’t really care much about their lives or families outside of the Beatles. Lol. Neither of them.

My favorite Beatle girl is Cynthia. I just think she’s beautiful. And the only girl who didn’t marry a Beatle-Beatle. I don’t really think John would have stayed that long if he didn’t at some point love her. Or any of the other he "kept around but left behind".